During the road to Hogsmeade, a village on the plain at the foot of Hogwarts, the crowd of students mixed so that I no longer saw familiar faces around me. And when we reached the village itself, I got carried away examining wonderful wooden and stone houses that seemed to come out of an English fairy tale; high and sharp tiled roofs, pleasant decoration, cobblestone road underfoot, bright shop windows on first floors of houses. And main thing; no pretentious signs and smoking or flying obscenity here and there, like on Diagon Alley; everything in unified English style. While I examined details, the crowd of students broke into groups and with a stream bursting with enthusiasm dispersed around the village. And who remained?
Standing practically at the entrance to the village, immediately after the bridge, amidst gloomy dark-green grass and ferns growing in the distance, I looked out for those I know among groups of students and rare adults.
"He-he-he," treacherous laughter broke out of me by itself when I saw two girls familiar to me with scarves of Slytherin colors.
"...how fast they ran away," Parkinson looked around, correcting the collar of a green coat.
"Should have been more attentive," Daphne answered her, trying, on the contrary, to gain more freedom in her black coat.
"Ladies," I appeared "out of nowhere," wedging in between them and deftly picking up both by the elbow.
"Granger!" they screamed simultaneously from surprise.
"Oh, thank you, ladies," I led them along the street. "Or else I already started forgetting my surname in friendly and familiar environment of my House."
A whole cavalcade of absurdly happy fifth or sixth years rushed past us. Kindergarten; pants on straps. But their enthusiasm is contagious.
"Hector," Daphne looked at me with reproach, but didn't remove hand from crook of my elbow. Actually, just like Parkinson, following friend's example. Herd instinct of human manifests even in such trifles, and I am susceptible to this too, why hide sin.
"Yes?"
"Your insolence has no limits."
"Precisely," confirmed Pansy, looking around, probably in search of green scarves on students. "Such behavior does not befit an adult wizard."
"Adult? Ladies, don't rush to live. Growing up is inevitability that will come regardless of our desires," we approached an amusing-looking sweets shop, through windows of which counters simply sparkling with bright colors were visible.
"But childhood and youth," I continued, leading girls to this sweets shop, "passes irretrievably. Another five years, and no one will stand behind our back, insuring. We will have to make important decisions on which very much depends, and there will be no mentors nearby to correct. Pranks, ill-considered and impulsive acts that one wants to commit so much will be impermissible."
"In short, Nostradamus," Daphne smirked, and I opened door before them.
"In short? Seize the moment. Let's look for tasty things for ourselves!"
Of course, we turned out to be far from first here, but due to variety of representatives of all age groups and Houses, everyone didn't care about two Slytherins and one Hufflepuff. Sweets here, in "Honeydukes," were for every taste, color and degree of perversion of fantasy; various animated chocolate sweets, Every Flavour Beans and other enchanted dregs are worth something. My eyes ran wide from variety of colors and forms, and elf shard seemed to shake head, looking at this truly childish disgrace. But worth giving credit to those who invented all this; what can be more alluring for kiddies, and adults too?
After sweets shop we went for a walk around the village. Girls shopped notably, came out to a couple of Galleons, which I, as a decent gentleman, laid out from my pocket.
Magical jokes shop "Zonko's" we bypassed by common silent consent. As it turned out, such is not in our interests at all. Although I would have dropped in to look at what wizards thought up, considering boundlessness of energy available for embodiment of ideas.
Pansy tried diligently to look out for someone among students flashing here and there for the first hour of walk, but soon gave up, and when Daphne and I started conversation about potions and latest news from potion-making journals, joined discussion altogether. These journals, by the way, like many others, are customarily left on big table in our common room so that anyone wishing could familiarize with news interesting to him. They say that Madam Sprout herself orders all periodicals, and prefects lay out new stuff, putting irrelevant copies into House library. Gradually one topic of conversation replaced another, and Pansy, it seems, even forgot that she walked arm in arm and spoke with "unworthy" wizard. Actually, just like Daphne. Generally, I noticed more than once or twice that Parkinson expresses her "pfft" regarding Muggle-borns only when need to sit on Malfoy's ears. Well, I noticed even on first day that she is one of "ideological processing factors" of Malfoy, so not surprised.
Shop of best weekend outfits for wizards, if one believes the name, naturally attracted attention of young ladies, and only after an hour we left it, becoming owners of dark-green beret for Pansy, package with something unknown to me for Daphne, and winter gloves from skin of some magical thingamajig for me; I really didn't have winter ones.
Standing on threshold of this shop, which was almost at the end of village, we looked around, looking for direction for further walk, while other students tired by lunch time already walked around Hogsmeade much more sluggishly, and sizes of companies decreased.
"Aside!" distant and strict female voice reached us. "Into building!"
Turning to voice, we saw girl in red robe and with wand in hands running in our direction. Familiar feeling forced me to literally throw head to sky. From behind roof of clothes shop two Dementors emerged and at huge speed headed to us, stretching their bony hands like corpses' in my direction, frightening fairly. Yes, frightening; such monsters will frighten anyone, and person will lie if claims opposite.
Sudden fear generates one of two fundamental reactions in human; fight or flight. I, as already found out, run poorly. Wand appeared in hands by itself. Out of corner of eye I saw how girls looked up following me, and shadow of horror appeared on their faces.
"Expecto Patronum," I exhaled quietly, making correct wave with wand and purposefully pumping abyss of uncontrolled neutral energy into it.
Back of head felt phantom pain from imaginary slap on back of head, which would have certainly flown to me from teacher of elven shard together with unremovable curse of infertility; no need to reproduce for individuals who spend sea of energy so thoughtlessly.