The next day, Dylan woke up and, as usual, headed to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione. This time, Ron and Harry didn't look so gloomy. In fact, they were both grinning from ear to ear. Before leaving the school, Harry even waved at them with a smile. Clearly, Harry had already told Ron about the Marauder's Map.
On the way, Ron muttered quietly beside Dylan, "I can't believe Fred and George had such a brilliant thing! Why didn't they bring it out sooner? Last time, Harry was all alone at school; that's just not loyal!"
Hermione frowned. "That's against school rules! If Harry gets caught, he might even be expelled!" Dylan glanced at Hermione. As if this girl hadn't done plenty of things against school rules herself. Because it was best for as few people as possible to know about the Marauder's Map, even Neville wasn't with them. In fact, Neville wanted to walk with Dylan, but Dylan found a casual excuse to send Neville off with Dean and Seamus. Fred and George didn't come this time. After all, they were the same age as Cedric, and as students of the same year, unless they were like Cedric, taking this time to go on a date in Hogsmeade, they wouldn't necessarily leave school every time there was an opportunity.
"Dylan, do you think Harry will get caught?" Ron looked at Dylan. He and Hermione had agreed with Harry that they would go to Hogsmeade first, and then Harry would secretly use a secret passage to leave the school. He'd wear his Invisibility Cloak and meet them in Hogsmeade. Now, as they hadn't reached their destination yet, Ron couldn't help but feel a little worried.
Dylan waved a hand. "Don't worry, you'll definitely see him in Hogsmeade."
"Really?" Ron's eyes lit up, immediately turning his worry into joy. "With you saying so, Dylan, it must be true!"
Dylan: "..."
The group followed the large crowd to Hogsmeade. Dylan didn't wander around with Ron and the others. Cedric had already taken his girlfriend to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Dylan didn't like the tea here, nor was he keen on being a useless third wheel. He could have skipped coming altogether this time. However, Dylan did fancy some Butterbeer. So, after a moment's thought, he decided to just wander around a bit and then head back. Plus, he might even stumble upon something interesting here.
Ron and his friends went to meet Harry first. They probably took Harry for a quick tour. By the time Dylan had finished a mug of Butterbeer, Ron, Harry, and Hermione walked in. Dylan had chosen a somewhat secluded corner, with not many people around him. When Harry and the others entered, Ron looked around and quickly spotted Dylan. Harry's face lit up when he saw Dylan.
"Dylan, have you already started eating?"
Ron walked over. "Dylan, you won't believe what Harry did outside just now; I nearly died laughing! He actually pulled Malfoy's trousers down!" Ron laughed heartily. "Malfoy's legs are so skinny, like two broomsticks!"
The group walked closer to Dylan, staring in surprise at the table laden with food. There were several mugs of Butterbeer, a roasted chicken and ribs platter, hickory-smoked ribs, and more.
"How much does all this cost?" Ron swallowed, eyeing the roasted corn and potato chips scattered among the roasted chicken and ribs. Having not eaten much breakfast, his mouth was watering so much it was almost dripping.
"Well, there's nothing else to do. If you're going to sit and drink, of course you need something to eat with it," Dylan shrugged. "The food here isn't expensive; it actually doesn't cost much at all."
"But, so many mugs of Butterbeer, can you even drink all of them, Dylan?" Hermione asked, looking at the seven or eight steaming mugs on the table.
"Actually, these are for you," Dylan said, pointing to the steaming mugs. "Just ordered them. Drink up."
"Did you know we were coming?" Harry's eyes widened.
"I just had a feeling," Dylan chuckled. "Even if you didn't come, I could finish all of these myself."
Ron's eyebrows shot up in delight, looking like two bouncing elastic bands, then his eyes curved into crinkled moons of laughter, his eyelashes trembling with them. Perhaps it was the prospect of free food that made him laugh so hard. His left dimple was like a small pit, and his cheeks were puffed out, as if he had two sweets hidden inside.
"Dylan can predict the future! This isn't the first day you've known that, is it? Dylan must have anticipated we'd come and specially ordered all this for us!" Ron plopped down, grabbed a mug of the non-alcoholic, bubbly drink, and sniffed it. "Such a rich malt aroma!" Ron raised the mug, tilted his head back, and took a large gulp. Milk foam stuck to his lips, but Ron didn't bother to wipe it off. His other hand grabbed a roasted chicken wing from the platter. He gnawed on it, making loud crunching sounds. "Ah! This Butterbeer is ten times better than my mum's sugary concoctions!"
"Do you dare say that in front of Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione, who had also sat down beside him, thanked Dylan, then delicately picked up a mug and took a small sip.
"Hmph! I was just saying it!" Ron grumbled. The two of them seemed to be getting along quite well again now—at least, they weren't at each other's throats as much.
"Mmm, it's sweet and quite delicious," Hermione said, feeling the warm sweetness of the Butterbeer and the malt aroma spreading in her mouth. A warm, comforting feeling spread from her throat to her heart. Hermione relaxed against the back of her chair, glancing at Ron's ravenous eating, and couldn't help but purse her lips. "You always eat so rudely. When will you be as elegant as Dylan?"
Ron, who was slurping on a rib, paused. He glanced at Hermione and snorted. "I don't have Dylan's power, so why should I be elegant? To put on airs?"
Hermione: "...You've got a point there."
Harry watched the two bickering, a wide smile stretching to his ears. He looked at the Butterbeer in front of him, holding the mug with both hands. Remembering the tension of sneaking into Hogsmeade just now, the warm sensation in his palms made him feel much more settled. He raised the mug and leaned forward slightly. The soft foam touched his lips. As he drank, the sweetness was accompanied by a warm, bubbly sensation that instantly warmed his stomach. He looked up at Dylan, then at Ron, who was gnawing on a chicken bone, and mumbled, "This Butterbeer is great." Although Hermione bickered with Ron, she still handed him a napkin when she saw him eating with a greasy mouth.
The few of them sat among the wooden tables and chairs. Around them were the lively sounds of chatter and laughter, and the crackling of the fireplace. The aroma of Butterbeer mingled with the scent of food. He felt completely at peace.
"Is there enough for you all? If not, let me order some more food for everyone!" He had plenty of money, but no place to spend it.
"Let's eat what we have first," Hermione said. "Dylan ordered quite a lot."
Dylan nodded. "Consider it my treat for everyone. If you don't eat enough after that, then Harry can treat you."
Harry grinned. "Please, eat as much as you like."
Then, Dylan raised his mug, his gaze sweeping over the others gathered around the wooden table. The morning light wasn't particularly bright. Several candles illuminated the pub. The halos of light cast a warm yellow glow around the edges of their mugs. "Merry Christmas?"
Harry quickly gripped his mug. But before he could even lift it, Ron's gnawed rib fell with a "clatter" back onto his plate. He fumbled, wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin. When he grabbed his mug, his elbow bumped it, making the mug wobble. A little foam slid down the side.
"Oh! Right! Drinking together, how can we not clink glasses?" Hermione said with a laugh, raising her mug. The four mugs clinked together.
"Clink!" The crisp sound made the foam at the rims of their mugs splash out a few droplets, landing on the wooden table, looking like scattered stardust.
"Merry Christmas!" The group tilted their heads back and drank most of their mugs.
"Ding-dong." Suddenly, a bell rang at the entrance. Harry and the others had just put their mugs down when they felt a chill drift in from the doorway. The pub's wooden door was pushed open, and cold wind, along with a few snowflakes, gusted inside. Harry looked up.
He saw Professor McGonagall, wrapped in a silver-grey tartan scarf, her back ramrod straight, striding into the room. Behind her followed a sprightly Professor Flitwick—and Hagrid. Hagrid was talking to a stout man in a dark green suit whom Harry recognized well. It was the Minister for Magic—Fudge! Hagrid and Fudge blocked the doorway, their figures almost completely filling the entire entrance.
Ron and the others had clearly seen the newcomers as well. A piece of bone almost fell out of Ron's mouth, and his eyes grew wide with panic. He discreetly kicked Harry's knee under the table. Harry finally reacted, his face paling. Why were Professor McGonagall, the Minister for Magic, and other professors all here? Oh, great! Now the Minister for Magic, the Head of the School, and even the Deputy Headmistress were all here. If he got caught, Professor McGonagall could punish him under school rules, and the Minister for Magic could even condemn him legally! Caught between two fires, how was he going to manage this?
"Go on, put on your Invisibility Cloak quickly," Dylan's voice drifted softly into Harry's ear.
"Ah? Oh, oh! Right, the Invisibility Cloak!" Harry finally came to his senses, his heart pounding, and quickly pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. While Professor McGonagall greeted Madam Rosmerta at the bar, Harry swiftly pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head. At the same time, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out nearby. "Minister Fudge, would you like to try some hot Butterbeer here? The cinnamon-spiced version is very popular, I enjoy it myself."
"Oh, yes, of course," Fudge replied. At this moment, there were still a few scattered students in the pub. Rosmerta chuckled. "Don't worry, the Butterbeer sold to minors here is all non-alcoholic."
Fudge chuckled, "Ho ho ho," and, addressing the few students who were also completely surprised by the professors' sudden appearance, he warned, "Now, children, don't get too carried away here. Even if it's non-alcoholic Butterbeer, don't drink too much." He turned and then lowered his voice, "I think now, we can stop allowing minors to come in."
Rosmerta glanced at Fudge. "As you wish, Minister." She extended her wand and gently pointed it at the doorway. Immediately, a flash of light appeared. The row of skeleton figures at the entrance shuddered, receiving new instructions—to prevent any further minors from entering.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and nodded. "Then I'll have a small glass of violet water, please."
Hagrid's muffled voice spoke up. "That reminds me a bit of when I was still underage, and I secretly—"
"Ahem!" Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. Hagrid immediately snapped back to attention. He chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head with a large hand. "I mean—four pints of mead, please, Rosmerta."
Professor Flitwick quickly followed. "Sherry fizz with ice and a parasol."
"Oh, excellent choices, all of them! What would you like, Minister? Still the Redcurrant Rum?"
"Yes, my dear, I can't believe you still remember what I like to drink. Please bring me one—would you like to have some? We can share." Fudge's voice sounded very cordial, but it also sounded deliberately put on. To be more precise... it felt like Butterbeer coated in frosting. And he loved to drag out the ends of his words.
Dylan eyed them. Hmm... Now, wasn't this where things got interesting? He subtly raised his wand and cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm around them. This was inspired by the Muggle-Repelling Charm. Its specific purpose was to make wizards as unaware as possible of things within the spell's protected area. However, they were already sitting quite far inside, and with the chair backs blocking them, it didn't draw the professors' attention.
Dylan moved the mug of Butterbeer in front of Harry to the side. Harry, under the Invisibility Cloak, looked disheartened as his Butterbeer, which he'd only taken two sips of, was taken away.
Meanwhile, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and the others sat down. They weren't too far from Dylan and his friends. Faintly, the professors' conversation could be heard.
"Then this drink is on you, Minister." Madam Rosmerta, after preparing everyone's drinks, came over with her own mug and sat down.
"Of course, it's my treat."
"What brings you here, Minister?"
"Oh, just some business. How's business lately?"
Madam Rosmerta chuckled. "With Dementors searching my pub daily, my business is, of course, absolutely thriving. So thriving that I've had to rely on a few students to keep things going lately." She narrowed her eyes, her expression not nearly as cheerful as her words suggested.
Fudge didn't seem embarrassed; he simply curved his lips into a slight smile. "It can't be helped, my dear, you know there's an escaped murderer possibly in Hogwarts—or somewhere nearby."
Rosmerta pursed her lips. "Are you trying to tell me Sirius Black is in Hogsmeade?"
"Oh, I didn't say that."
"Tell me, then, what is this all about?" Rosmerta took a sip of Butterbeer. "The Dementors have been a real headache lately."
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