"You'd better give me a good explanation right now, or I'll be knocking on the Headmaster's office door in the middle of the night."
The figure was draped in a deep crimson robe, their hawk-like eyes fixed on the group, voice booming with authority.
"Sorry, Professor Hogg, we were just…"
George waved his hands, mumbling an excuse, but Professor Hogg suddenly raised a sleeve to cover the lower half of his face, stepping back and cutting him off.
"You know that's not what I want to hear. And I'll remind you again—give me an answer, and make it quick."
"Because you lot should be tucked away in your dorms, fast asleep, not wandering around Hogsmeade, reeking of… whatever this is."
His brow furrowed, his sharp gaze flickering over George's face, his tone carrying an odd edge.
Cedric opened his mouth to speak, but Adam placed a hand on his shoulder, stepping forward with a polite smile.
"Good evening, Professor Hogg. We were just doing something every student tries at least once. Things got a tad off track, but you understand, don't you?"
Professor Hogg locked eyes with Adam, the two staring at each other in calm silence.
Just as Cedric was starting to worry for Adam, Professor Hogg let out a sudden chuckle.
"When I was a student at Hogwarts, we weren't nearly as bold as you lot. Back then, the Headmaster was Armando Dippet, and he had no patience for rule-breakers—especially after everything that happened at the school."
He drew his wand, and in a flash, Adam whipped out his own, hidden in his sleeve. The tense standoff made Cedric lunge forward, grabbing Adam's arm.
Professor Hogg's eyes lingered on Adam's sleeve, a knowing look in them. "Relax, kid," he said softly.
"You're cautious, and you've got a sharp eye, but your draw's a bit too obvious. Still, keeping your wand out of sight? That's a good habit…"
Before he finished, he flicked his wand, a spark of light hitting George.
George shuddered, as if he'd been dunked in water. The strange smell clinging to him faded significantly.
"There we go, gentlemen. You're lucky it was me who found you tonight and not another professor."
"Enjoy your evening, but don't linger in Hogsmeade too long. No one knows what might happen in the wizarding world after dark."
With a faint smile, Professor Hogg turned and headed off into the night.
Adam watched his retreating figure, something clicking in his mind. Gripping his wand tightly, its tip glowing a faint orange, he called out, "Professor, have we met somewhere before?"
The crimson-robed figure paused briefly but didn't turn back, just waved a hand and vanished into the shadowy distance.
Silence fell, broken only by a chilly autumn breeze that made George shiver.
"I know it's wild that Professor Hogg used to sneak out at night too, but can we find somewhere warm to sit for a bit?" George said.
"Since you lot came to my rescue, drinks are on me at the Three Broomsticks."
"Deal!"
The three voices rang out in unison.
They pushed open the creaky wooden door, and a wave of warmth mixed with the sweet scent of butterbeer washed over them.
Inside the Three Broomsticks, the ceiling was low, with thick oak beams holding up iron chandeliers that cast a soft, golden glow across the wooden walls.
Along the walls stood rustic barrels, hand-painted with ivy designs. A stag-antlered fireplace crackled with pine logs, sparks dancing but never escaping, held back by an invisible charm.
The scene reminded Adam of the Hufflepuff common room, though he couldn't quite place why.
At a corner table, a group of older wizards clinked their silver spoons against their mugs, humming an odd, old-fashioned tune. Their pointed hats hung carelessly on the backs of their chairs.
They glanced at Adam and his friends as the door opened, their eyes widening briefly before they turned back to their chatter.
Behind the bar, Madam Rosmerta stirred a steaming copper pot of mulled wine. She looked up through the haze of heat at the group standing in the doorway.
"Oh, Merlin's beard, how did you lot sneak out of Hogwarts?"
She wiped her hands on a towel, sighing as she noticed George shivering in the cold. "Come on in, kids, don't just stand there."
They settled at an unassuming round table, and Madam Rosmerta brought over a steaming mug of brown-sugar tea, setting it in front of George.
The woman—strikingly beautiful, with a graceful figure and a few crow's feet that did nothing to dim her charm—leaned down and smiled at George. "Drink this. It'll warm you right up."
George's cheeks flushed an awkward shade of red. For once, he didn't crack a joke, just nodded shyly.
Fred and Cedric, watching the exchange, stifled their laughter, their faces turning red from the effort.
Adam dug a Galleon out of his coin pouch and raised a small hand. "Hi, could we get a few butterbeers and some snacks, please?"
As Madam Rosmerta nodded and took the coin, Adam glanced at her and said, "Were you in Hufflepuff? This place feels a lot like our common room."
She looked surprised but nodded, then glanced at their scarves. "But aren't you Slytherins?"
Noticing their awkward expressions, she gave a knowing chuckle and headed back to the bar.
Adam caught George staring off into the distance and waved a hand in front of his face, but he didn't budge.
"Mate, even if she's charming, you don't have to stare that hard," Adam teased.
Cedric burst out laughing at George's expression.
George whipped around, glaring at Cedric. "I'm not looking at her! I'm looking at that!"
Adam followed his gaze out the window. Across the street was a shop with a quirky red storefront, its window packed with bizarre trinkets. The sign above read: Zonko's Joke Shop.
Adam shrugged. Typical Weasley.
"By the way, when we were heading out, I think I heard someone mention something about escaping a 'Shrieking Shack' or something," Adam said, tapping the table.
Fred and George reluctantly tore their eyes from the shop, clearing their throats.
"That was Cedric's fault," George said. "He said you were under some banshee's spell…"
All three pairs of eyes turned to Cedric, who waved his hands frantically, stammering, "It's just—Adam was acting so weird! It was straight out of a book!"
Adam frowned. "Banshees lure people with their wails to evoke sympathy. What book were you even reading?"
Cedric scratched his head, unsure. "Er… I think it was The Quibbler?"
The table fell silent, the awkwardness broken only when Madam Rosmerta returned with their butterbeers and a few plates of delicate food.
"Isn't this a bit much?" Adam whispered.
She winked, her eyes twinkling. "On the house. I've never seen Hufflepuff kids sneak out of the castle before, but don't make a habit of it."
They nodded politely, mimicking Adam's manners, and thanked her softly.
Adam lifted his mug, the steaming liquid inside glowing like molten toffee in the candlelight. The first sip brought a gentle malt sweetness, followed by rich, buttery warmth, with a faint spice lingering like a winter's day distilled into a single drink.
It was delicious, but he wrinkled his nose. "This is what they serve…"
Madam Rosmerta laughed, wiping foam from his lip with a handkerchief, her expression turning stern. "No alcohol for underage wizards. You'll have to wait until you're old enough to visit Hogsmeade properly."
"Fair enough," Adam said, raising his non-alcoholic butterbeer. The others clinked their mugs with his, chatting idly.
George and Fred grumbled about Zonko's being closed at night.
Cedric stared out the window, itching to try flying a broom in Hogsmeade.
Adam, meanwhile, teased his pet niffler, which had poked its head out of his robe, wondering where to stash it in his trunk.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something outside and yanked the others under the table. They exchanged confused looks.
Just as Cedric started to peek up, a familiar voice rang out from the bar.
"Sorry, Pomona, Hagrid, for dragging you out so late…"
George and Fred froze, sweat beading on their foreheads. That voice belonged to their Head of House—Professor McGonagall.