As Dylan approached, Ron let out a heavy sigh, looking exasperated.
"Dylan, you have no idea how infuriating Harry's aunt and uncle are!"
Dylan blinked. "Oh, I know."
Ron: "…"
Harry glanced at Dylan and Ron, lips pressed together. "You guys go ahead."
He stepped back, leaning against the wall. The coolness of the stone bricks seeped through his clothes, chilling his skin.
Ron opened his mouth, hesitated, and said nothing.
Hermione shook her head. "Alright, we'll be back as soon as we can. The school expects us to return the same day. If you're free, maybe hit the library and work on some assignments."
Harry: …
Dylan shot Hermione a look.
Harsh.
Absolutely ruthless!
Had Hermione been practicing some kind of heartless charm? What kind of comfort was *that*? Everyone was off to have fun, and Harry, stuck at school because he couldn't go, was being told to do homework in the library while they were out enjoying themselves.
Even *Dylan* wasn't planning to study today!
"I'll, uh, figure out something to do," Harry said with a cough.
Hermione nodded.
Finally, she joined Ron, who kept glancing back every few steps, and Dylan as they passed Filch's thorough inspection and stepped out of the castle's main gates.
Outside, the wind swept a few dried leaves across the stone path.
Ron shivered. "Blimey, it's cold."
He tucked his chin deeper into his scarf—a brand-new one Dylan had given him. Ron loved it.
Rubbing his hands together, he grumbled, "If only Professor McGonagall would let Harry come with us. Sometimes she's just too strict. She could've bent the rules a bit."
Dylan glanced at him.
Before he could respond, Neville chimed in, "Professor McGonagall's just doing her job. Students without a signed permission slip from their guardian can't go to Hogsmeade. That's Hogwarts' rules."
Dylan nodded. "You can't expect the deputy headmistress to break school rules. If she did, other professors might start doing the same."
Hermione mused, "Exactly. If every professor started pulling strings for their students, then Snape…"
Ron caught on quickly. "Alright, alright! Let's stick to the rules then."
He muttered under his breath, "I can't even imagine what Snape would do without rules holding him back. He's already so biased against us."
Seeing Ron's indignant rant, Dylan's mouth twitched. "Snape's not *that* heartless."
—Maybe.
—If you don't keep provoking him.
"Heartless? Him?" Ron pulled a face. "I'll never forget the time he spent a full twenty minutes yelling at me in class, pointing right at my nose!"
Dylan recalled that Potions lesson when Ron, in classic fashion, mistook goldenrod for bellflowers and tossed it into his potion, causing an explosion.
—See? Don't poke the bear, and he won't have a reason to snap at you.
Dylan smacked his lips but didn't bother responding.
Hermione, no longer needing to console Harry alongside Ron, turned her attention to him. She wasn't thrilled with his attitude. "You nearly scared everyone half to death! Because you mixed up the herbs, half the class' potions failed. Snape wasn't the only one who should've chewed you out—Professor Sprout should've given you an earful too!"
"What? That was the herb's fault!" Ron shot back.
And just like that, they were bickering again.
Neville watched awkwardly, then glanced at Dylan, who seemed either used to it or completely unbothered. He showed no intention of intervening.
Neville stood there, silent, and joined Dylan in looking around aimlessly.
Meanwhile, once all the students heading to Hogsmeade had gathered, Filch stepped outside. His pointed hat sat atop his head, and his sallow face was drawn into a scowl.
"Oh, that guy's like a grumpy old bat," Ron whispered, having given up arguing with Hermione since he was clearly losing. He spotted Filch and couldn't resist a jab.
*Clang!*
Filch slammed the castle doors shut, his hooked nose nearly jabbing the students in the front row.
"Listen up!" he barked, his murky eyes scanning the whispering students.
Though a Squib with no magical ability, Filch had plenty of magical items from Dumbledore, ensuring he wasn't at a disadvantage with these young wizards. In fact, most students were oddly intimidated by him—maybe because he was terrifyingly ugly or because he prowled the halls at night like a ghost. Imagine sneaking out after hours only to be chased by a ghastly figure ready to throw you in detention. And with *that* face? In the dark? Spine-chilling.
"No wandering off! No touching what you shouldn't!" Filch's thick lips curled into a sneer. "If I catch any of you sneaking off to places you don't belong…" His eyes gleamed. "You'll be in detention faster than you can blink!"
"Move it! No dawdling!" he snapped.
Hogsmeade wasn't far from Hogwarts. A quick ride in the small carriages got you there in no time, but walking wasn't bad either.
The Hogsmeade trips were scheduled for mornings, and Dylan's group was part of the first wave—mostly third-years. Older students, who'd been to Hogsmeade before, knew it wasn't *that* exciting and weren't likely to show up this early.
It didn't take long to reach the village. A thin mist still clung to the chimney tops when they arrived.
Filch's raspy voice cut through the air. "Listen up, you lot! There's a prefect at every corner watching your backsides with a Sneakoscope!" He paused for effect, eyes narrowing. "If anyone catches you trying to sneak off, you'll wish you never had legs. I'll tan your hides before handing you over to your head of house!"
After his barrage of threats, Filch dismissed them to explore, turning back with one last vague warning: "I'm gone, but I'll be watching… I'll be watching…"
Dylan shook his head as Filch shuffled off. Prefects were indeed patrolling to ensure no one wandered off or tried sneaking out of Hogsmeade to Merlin-knows-where.
Not that it mattered to Dylan. If he wanted to slip away, he didn't even need a spell—just his ring, and no student would spot him. Well, except maybe Luna, with her uncanny knack for sensing things on a spiritual level.
Even with his Shadow Ring's invisibility, it only cloaked him with its magic, which was still tied to the spiritual plane. Luna, if she paid close attention, could probably pick up on something off. The same went for Dumbledore, who clearly had his own spiritual gifts.
"Dylan, I'm heading to Zonko's Joke Shop. You going straight to Honeydukes?" Neville asked.
Dylan nodded. "Yeah, you go ahead. The Weasley twins said they'd show me something cool at Honeydukes, so I'll wait for them there."
Neville gave a small nod and headed off toward Seamus.
Dylan didn't stick with Ron and Hermione, especially since they'd split up after their latest spat. That left him with some peace and quiet.
As Filch left, the students' excitement burst free. Some clutched their Sickles and Galleons, racing to Honeydukes, while others dragged friends toward Zonko's.
Dylan strolled leisurely with the crowd. Then he noticed something.
A few young wizards were peeking through the wooden door of the Three Broomsticks before slipping inside.
Well, well, well.
The Three Broomsticks was a pub. These were clearly students, yet they were ignoring the patrolling prefects and Professor McGonagall's warnings to sneak into a *pub*?
Dylan glanced around. There was only one prefect on patrol, it seemed. The others hadn't shown up yet.
He squinted, recalling McGonagall's voice from last week, banging on the blackboard: "Underage wizards are strictly prohibited from consuming alcoholic beverages unless accompanied by a guardian!"
His gaze drifted to the steaming copper kettle in the pub's window. "Well, that's not very rule-abiding."
Dylan's heel ground a small dent into the ground. His feet, originally aimed at Honeydukes, quietly pivoted.
He sidestepped a group of Hufflepuffs arguing over the recipe for Screaming Cauldron Candy and headed straight for the pub's fragrant wooden door.
"I hear McGonagall loves the drinks here. They say a teacher's like a parent for life, right? No harm in checking out what the old folks enjoy," Dylan muttered, slipping into the Three Broomsticks with the other students.
The warm air hit him, laced with the scent of peat and a hint of alcohol. The pub wasn't too crowded, and plenty of the patrons were underage wizarding students.
Madam Rosmerta greeted them with a cheerful smile. Dylan took a step forward, only to see the lone patrolling prefect walk in.
Madam Rosmerta's chestnut curls were loosely tied with a velvet ribbon, her apron speckled with foam from serving drinks. She'd just handed out a few butterbeers to some students.
Spotting the prefect, she grinned. "Morning, Prefect! Want something warm? Today's butterbeer has candied fruit peel—should taste pretty good."
Dylan glanced at the prefect, whose robes marked him as a Hufflepuff. He didn't recognize him.
The prefect ordered two butterbeers. Dylan blinked and stepped up to the bar.
When Madam Rosmerta turned to him, she asked warmly, "What can I get you, dear?"
Dylan cleared his throat, just to be sure. "Uh, I thought the school rules said…"
"Third-year?" she guessed.
He nodded.
She chuckled. "Worried about underage drinking, are you?" In a flash, she poured a frothy amber liquid from the copper kettle. "Don't worry, this is the non-alcoholic version, specially made for young wizards. Professor Dumbledore himself approved the recipe at a first-year welcome feast."
She winked. "So, how about it? Want one?"
The prefect, holding his two butterbeers, chimed in with a smile. "She's right, it's fine."
Dylan paused, a bit disappointed. No alcohol? What was the point? Just fancy juice?
He pursed his lips. "If you want to try it, add two spoonfuls of syrup," Madam Rosmerta offered. "Professor Flitwick says it tastes like Honeydukes' toffee."
Dylan nodded. "Alright, one butterbeer, but just one spoonful of syrup. I'm not big on super sweet drinks."
Madam Rosmerta's eyelashes fluttered. *Fancy juice?* She laughed—a funny little wizard, this one.
She quickly handed him a butterbeer. Dylan sniffed it. Despite the pub's boozy aroma, this drink had no trace of alcohol.
He took a sip. The warm syrup slid down his throat, surprisingly pleasant.
"How's it taste?" Madam Rosmerta asked, smiling. "If you like it, bring some friends next time. I've got a new trick for making marshmallow foam with a special powder."
"Not bad," Dylan said with a nod.
He ordered a second, larger glass and lingered in the Three Broomsticks for about twenty minutes before leaving.
—After paying, of course.
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