HP Magic Biography

In fact, the carnival didn't stop until after ten o'clock. Anyway, for Fan Lin, the warm fire and the submissive Hermione were completely two worlds with a silent magic.

And Harry ends up joining them, which is obviously not very plausible for a person who is very sick to participate in a carnival.

But compared to this carnival, what Harry was looking forward to more was the trip to Hogsmeade the next day.

It was dawn on the day we went to Hogsmeade, clear but windy. After breakfast they formed a long line in front of Mr. Filch, who checked their names off a long list of all those who had permission from their parents or guardians to go to the village.

Harry felt a little bit of a pang of conscience, thinking that if it wasn't for Sirius, he wouldn't be able to go at all.

When Harry lined up in front of Filch, the caretaker sniffed him hard, as if trying to pick out something from Harry, and then he simply nodded and raised his chin again, haha Leigh walked past him, onto the cold, sunny stone path.

And Fan Lin also suffered the same treatment, which surprised Fan Lin. Because of Mrs. Norris, the relationship between Fan Lin and Mr. Filch has always been pretty good, but the arrival of Umbridge still changed. this situation.

Um - why did Filch smell you like that? asked Ron as Van Lin, Harry, and Hermione walked briskly down the road leading to the gate. I think he smells like a dung bomb, Harry smiled. I forgot to tell you...

Then he told about the letter he sent to Sirius, and then a few seconds later Fig burst in, demanding to see the letter. To his a little surprise, Hermione was very interested in what he had to say, even more interested than himself.

He said he got word you ordered the stink bomb? But who told him?

I don't know, said Harry, shrugging. Maybe Malfoy, he'd find it ridiculous.

Maybe, but I'm more inclined to think that this is Umbridge's method, let the administrator monitor us, but... Fan Lin smiled, and let a squib monitor the two wizards, thanks to Umbridge As far as I can imagine, Mrs. Norris will definitely not help Umbridge, and both Fan Lin and Hermione can guarantee this.

Could it be that those small dried fishes in Crookshanks were fed for nothing?

The four walked between tall stone pillars topped with winged beasts, and turned right onto the road to the village, the wind blowing their hair into their eyes.

She was thinking about Fan Lin's words all the way until she entered Hogsmeade,

There is no doubt that girls are always sensitive when it comes to Umbridge.

Where the hell are we going? Harry asked, The Three Broomsticks?

I don't know. Fan Lin said, yesterday he was just distracted and didn't pay much attention to whether the girl said or not.

Oh—no, said Hermione, waking from her contemplation: No, it's always crowded and noisy. I've told the others to meet us at Pig's Head, that's another pub, you You know, it's off the main road. I think it's kind of...you know...secret...but the students don't usually go there, so I don't think anyone's eavesdropping.

They went down the road, past the Zucco Joke Store, where they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, unsurprisingly, past the post office, where the owls set off at regular intervals, and turned into a side road , at the end of it there is a bistro. A splintered wooden signboard hung from a rusted bracket above the door, depicting a stern boar's head, its blood dripping on the surrounding white cloth. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached, and the three of them hesitated at the door.

Well, come on, Hermione said nervously, and Fan Lin took the lead and walked in.

It's nothing like the Three Broomsticks here, where the big bar has a shiny warm, clean feel to it. The Hog's Head is a small, dark and very dirty room that smells strongly like goat. The windows of the bar were thick with grime, so that only a little daylight came in. Instead, there were short, bare candles on the rough wooden tables in the room. The floor looked like compacted mud at first glance, but as soon as Harry walked up it he realized that it was actually a stone floor that seemed to have accumulated thousands of years of grime.

Harry remembers Hagrid mentioning the pub in the first year: Met a lot of interesting guys in Pig's Head

Hagrid said so once, to explain how he won a dragon egg from a hooded stranger. Harry had wondered then, why Hagrid wasn't surprised that the stranger kept his face covered, and now he found that covering his face seemed to be very popular in the pig's head.

There was a man in the bar, his whole head bound in a dirty gray bandage, who managed to swallow countless cups of smoking, hot stuff through a small opening in his mouth. At a table by the window sat two figures whose silhouettes were hidden by hoods, and Harry would have thought they were Dementors had they not been talking in thick Yorkshire accents. In a shadowed corner by the fireplace sat a witch, wearing a thick, black veil that fell to her feet. They could only see the tip of her nose because it protruded slightly from the top of her veil.

I don't know, Hermione, Harry muttered as they walked through the bar. He paid particular attention to the witch wearing the thick veil: Have you thought that it might be Umbridge under that veil?

Hermione took a look at the veiled witch. Umbridge is shorter than she, she said quietly. And anyway, even if Umbridge came, she couldn't stop us, Harry, because I double-checked the school's rules. We didn't break the rules, and I asked Professor Flitwick if he would allow the students to To the pig, he said yes, but he strongly suggested that we bring our own cups. And I checked every rule I could think of about study societies and refresher groups, and it's totally allowed. I just don't think we should be flamboyant what we did.

No, said Harry dryly, especially when it's not strictly a study group, is it?

The bartender came out of the room and approached them quietly.

He was a grumpy-looking old man with long gray hair and a beard. He was tall and thin and looked at Harry vaguely, as if he knew him well.

What? he muttered. Four butterbeers, please, said Harry. The man reached under the counter, pulled out four very dirty, dusty bottles, and slammed them down on the bar.

Eight copper nuts, he said.

Thanks, Harry said quickly, handing him the silver coin.

The bartender's eyes scanned Harry, lingering on his scar for a few seconds. Then he turned and walked away, putting Harry's money in an old wooden cabinet whose drawers would slide open automatically to collect the money.

Fan Lin and Hermione retreated to the table farthest from the bar and sat down, looking around while waiting for Harry and Ron.

The man in the dirty gray bandages tapped his knuckles on the counter to get another smoky drink from the bartender.

But what Fan Lin cared about the most was the bartender at the Pig's Head Bar.

It's not the first time he came to the Pig's Head Bar, but the last time he came, he didn't see the owner of the bar...

As if sensing that someone was watching, the bartender slightly raised his head and glanced at Fan Lin, then squeezed out an ugly smile and turned away.