Christmas was approaching, and Hermione decided to take this opportunity to go to Hogsmeade village to relax.
She thought she had sorted out her feelings, and it was impossible for her to never set foot here again just because of some things, right?
She had also caught up with the many courses brought about by the Time-Turner, and after sufficient study, it was necessary to reward herself.
She recalled that the first time she went, she only went to Honeydukes Sweetshop, and she hadn't been to other places in Hogsmeade, so this village was actually quite new to her now.
Outside, it was snowing heavily. She wore a brown and yellow striped knitted scarf around her neck, a fluffy crimson hat on her head, and a thick coat on her body, walking slowly forward, leaving her footprints one by one on the snow-covered ground.
The streets were extremely lively. Even in such cold weather, it didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the students and residents. The Christmas atmosphere was exceptionally strong. Many shops had even put up Christmas trees at their doors, and the residents' doors were also filled with wreaths made of holly, with strings of magically lit candles hanging on the trees.
Hermione curiously looked at everything in front of her. The local customs of the wizarding village were displayed one by one before her eyes. A choir composed of short wizards with pointed hats sang loudly on the street, and there were also tall male wizards riding oxen and wandering around, making her unable to help but compare it with the place she had once lived.
The wind was fierce and the snow was heavy. Even though Hermione had put on gloves, she still felt like she was about to freeze, so she kept breathing on her hands, her eyes constantly searching for a place where she could rest and get warm.
"The Three Broomsticks Pub?" She looked up at the sign, then pushed the door open, with a hint of nervousness and excitement in her mind. In her perception, a pub was not a very suitable place for minors to come.
Compared to the cold brought by the wind and snow outside, it was obviously much warmer here. Many wizards were sitting at the tables, ordering a drink. Some were drinking alone, while others were chatting enthusiastically, even arguing red-faced over some anecdotes and rumors. At this time, a woman with a beautiful face and a graceful figure would appear to calm the tense atmosphere.
Just as Hermione was about to find a place to sit down and order a drink suitable for her age, she saw someone she definitely didn't want to see right now.
— Ron. He was sitting at a small table, blushing as he secretly sized up the busy landlady.
"Walking into this room was a mistake." Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed open the pub door again, walking out.
She decided to go to Honeydukes to take a look.
She would buy some candy to take back to her parents. She still remembered that her parents were very satisfied with the peppermint candy there.
Then she ran into Harry there.
"Are you going to find him? Then go ahead," Hermione said.
"I don't know the way anymore. Their map doesn't extend to Hogsmeade," Harry said somewhat awkwardly.
"Fine, I'll take you there." Hermione looked at Harry and sighed helplessly.
She wasn't too worried about Harry's safety now. Besides the people celebrating the holiday that she had just seen, there were also many Aurors patrolling. Moreover, when she left the pub, she saw Professor McGonagall and several other familiar faces all entering that pub. Perhaps besides Dumbledore's office, that pub was now the safest place.
Hermione put herself in Harry's shoes and thought that he had indeed been pitiful enough during this period of time. It was excusable for him to relax, and she couldn't possibly snitch on him right away, right?
"Did you bring the Invisibility Cloak?" she asked softly, and then said, "That Mr. Moody is said to be searching the Forbidden Forest now, otherwise I would advise you to go back now."
Harry nodded, but he hadn't been completely honest just now. It was true that he didn't know the way, but the location of this street certainly wouldn't stop him. What he hoped more was to create an opportunity for his two good friends to reconcile.
"Let's go," she said.
Unfortunately, when they arrived at this small house, Ron was already gone.
They walked quickly through the dilapidated wooden door. Harry was wearing the Invisibility Cloak, and Hermione tightened her collar to try to cover her face as much as possible. She still hoped to leave a good impression on her teacher.
"Two butterbeers," she said to Madam Rosmerta at the bar.
"Uh..." Rosmerta looked her up and down repeatedly, her face extremely tangled, not knowing whether or not to provide it to her. The girl a while ago had given her serious psychological trauma.
"Are you sure you can drink?" she asked cautiously.
"Yeah." Hermione nodded lightly, trying to avoid attracting other people's attention, while also wondering why she would ask herself this question.
"Alright then, I hope you're telling the truth," Rosmerta said, then handed Hermione two glasses of steaming, frothy butterbeer.
"Please give me a small glass of Gillywater."
Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly came from behind Hermione, causing Hermione's body to tense up involuntarily.
"A sherry trifle with soda and ice and an umbrella—" Professor Flitwick said, smacking his lips.
"I need a glass of redcurrant rum."
Hermione couldn't identify this voice.
"Oh, okay, please wait a moment." Rosmerta turned around to respond to their orders and began to get busy again.
"Harry?"
Hermione walked to the place where they had just sat together, but found that Harry was also gone. Even though he was wearing the Invisibility Cloak just now, he was still holding some candy he had bought from Honeydukes, but now it was all gone.
"What are you doing over there?" Hermione thought. She saw a long-legged stool being dragged, and heard the creaking sound caused by the friction with the ground, but there was no one around.
"It's really worrying." Hermione shook her head and walked in the direction of Harry, casually pulling a stool from a table where no one was sitting and sat down next to Harry.
"Don't run around, Harry." Hermione's voice was extremely low, "Didn't you see that Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are next to us?"
Harry didn't speak. Hermione couldn't possibly let him reveal himself now, so she could only silently push the slightly cold butterbeer to the opposite side of herself, and then watched the height of the full glass of wine begin to slowly decrease.
Suddenly, the downward trend stopped.
Because Hermione heard the name "Black."
She seemed to understand why Harry wanted to get close to this side.
At this time, Rosmerta had already brought them the drinks they had ordered, and was also holding a glass of light red wine in her hand, finding an empty seat and sitting down gently.
"What wind has blown you here, Minister?" This was Rosmerta's voice.
"Don't call me Minister." Fudge twisted his stout body uncomfortably, changed the position of his feet under the table, and then said, "I guess I'll be completely stepping down one of these days."
As he spoke, he flipped open a newspaper and pointed out the reports about him to the people in front of him. They were all negative, the mildest of which called him "mediocre and incompetent."
"Uh…" Professor McGonagall couldn't find any good words to comfort him for a moment, because the departure of the Dementors was indeed a great relief.
Flitwick simply sat on a high-legged chair, silently sipping his drink, not wanting to join the conversation.
"I was clearly thinking of everyone's safety."
"Damn it, it's all because of that Black's escape." Fudge slammed his fist hard on the table in front of him, causing it to shake. "Everything's been a mess since he escaped…" Fudge said dejectedly.
"You know, I still can hardly believe it," Madam Rosmerta said thoughtfully. "Of all the people who've gone over to the Dark side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have expected… I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what he was going to become, I'd have said you'd had too much to drink."
"He's a thousand times worse than you can imagine." Fudge's attitude was very stiff, and he was extremely disgusted with the fugitive who had seriously affected his political career.
"He and Potter were so close, like brothers." McGonagall sighed, thinking of the two most troublesome pranksters.
"But this guy betrayed them. I originally thought Azkaban would be his final destination, but I never expected him to escape now,"
Fudge began to talk on and on, even without deliberately lowering his voice, from the Fidelius Charm to the battle in which Peter Pettigrew was killed by Black. McGonagall and Flitwick occasionally added a few words, while Rosmerta kept sighing.
"He was even the poor boy's godfather. Good heavens, now that he's escaped, he actually wants to hurt him." Fudge became agitated, his neck flushed red, but soon his shoulders slumped again. "Now we can only hope that our department's most elite Auror team can catch him as soon as possible." He said with a hint of anticipation, as if this would be able to restore his reputation, which had fallen into the abyss.
"Cornelius, if you still want to have dinner with Dumbledore and discuss the issue of Azkaban prisoner security, we should go back to the castle now." McGonagall reminded him, as if remembering something.
"Oh, I almost forgot." Fudge touched his head. He looked out the window. "It's still early. You go back first. Dumbledore should still be searching the Forbidden Forest with our elite—Mr. Moody." Fudge stared blankly at his unfinished drink, making excuses.
He still didn't want to talk to Dumbledore. Even if he was forced to, he wanted to delay it as long as possible. He was already at a disadvantage in their conversations, not to mention that he had recently owed Dumbledore a huge favor.
If a large-scale prison break had really happened, he wouldn't be thinking about whether he could hold on to his position, but about who to find to defend him against charges of dereliction of duty.
Great kindness is like great hatred. Even if he wasn't quite that far, facing Dumbledore always made him feel uncomfortable.
"Alright, we'll go back first."
A sound of glass and wood colliding came, and in the blink of an eye, Fudge was the only one left at the table.
"Harry." Hermione said softly, reaching out to grab him, only to find that there was nothing but air in front of her.
"He wouldn't do anything stupid, would he?" Hermione's heart was in her throat. Even she felt indignant when she heard those words. The impact on Harry of his parents dying because of betrayal by the person closest to them and whom they trusted the most was something Hermione didn't dare to think about.
She asked herself, if she learned such a truth, she might also be blinded by hatred, her reason consumed by anger, and she would seek revenge on her enemies.
Just as she was worried that Harry would do something foolish and was about to step out to find him, a familiar voice entered her ears again.
"Uncle Fudge, long time no see. Please allow me to send my father's regards to you." Hermione turned her head and saw Malfoy in a light gray coat standing in front of the table where everyone had been talking, politely greeting Fudge, then casually pulling out a chair from under the table and sitting down gently.
"Oh, how is your father?" Fudge said.
"Father is very well." Malfoy nodded, then changed the subject: "But Uncle Fudge, your situation isn't too good." Malfoy looked at Fudge intently, seeming to imply something.
Fudge's face darkened for a moment, but he still maintained the demeanor of a politician, not replying.
"I heard that your subordinates are starting to stir? Is your position still secure?" Malfoy pressed closer, asking questions that became more and more sharp, and more and more embarrassing for Fudge.
He said with an iron face: "I don't know when Lucius's son became so rude, eager to ridicule elders. I'll have to have a good talk with him someday."
"Perhaps someday you'll even need an appointment to see my father. He won't waste time on useless people."
"Absurd!" Fudge's breathing began to quicken, and he slammed his hand heavily on the table in front of him. He was very angry, but the scene that Malfoy had constructed for him was so real. He still remembered how glorious he was when he had great power, but in the blink of an eye, his position had become precarious. See, now even a young brat dared to ridicule him in front of his face, and he hadn't even stepped down yet!
"What does Malfoy want to do?" Hermione inexplicably retreated back to where she had been. She remembered that this was the first time she had heard him ridicule someone so unscrupulously, even someone who was nominally his elder.
"I'm just telling the truth." Malfoy shrugged, saying indifferently, then turned to wave to the bar: "Madam Rosmerta, please give me a lemonade, thank you."
"Please believe in my goodwill, the Malfoy family's friendship with you will last forever!" After ordering, Malfoy reached out and handed Fudge a small piece of parchment. The words on it were written in black ink, appearing very small and dense. Fudge couldn't see it clearly for a moment. Just as he brought his eyes closer to the parchment,
Malfoy spoke again, and these words were like a thunderclap in Fudge's ears.
"I've found a lot of information about Black, Uncle Fudge." Then Malfoy showed a mysterious smile, quietly watching the bewildered Fudge. (To be continued.)
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