Hermione was surprised to discover that Sherlock was also gazing at the wooden barrel filled with broomstick handles across the street, his eyes carrying a trace of intrigued curiosity.
Not only that, but the corners of his mouth curved up more distinctly than usual, as if he had encountered an interesting puzzle.
Hermione immediately caught this subtle expression, and a faint sense of loss welled up in her heart, along with an indescribable feeling of competition.
Was Sherlock more interested in Luna's fanciful ideas or rather, her wild fantasies than in her own carefully planned S.P.E.W.?
She then found herself rather amusing. It would be one thing if this emotion arose because of Gemma, but why would it emerge because of Luna's groundless fantasies?
She was being far too childish.
But... was that barrel really so fascinating?
Without realizing it, Hermione unconsciously moved half a step closer to Sherlock, her gaze wandering back and forth between his focused profile and that odd barrel, trying to understand his thoughts at this moment.
As for Sherlock, he was completely immersed in a brief moment of alignment with Luna's unique perspective, utterly oblivious to Hermione's approach and the emotional undercurrents in her heart.
Thus, an unusual scene appeared on Hogsmeade's main street: three young wizards, one boy and two girls stood side by side, all gazing at the large wooden barrel filled with colorful broomstick handles outside Dervish and Banges across the street.
The youngest-looking girl was still muttering words that others couldn't understand.
An invisible tension filled the air—Hermione's proactive seeking intertwined with Sherlock's acknowledgment of Luna's unique world, creating a hazy yet subtle atmosphere that seemed somewhat bizarre yet unexpectedly harmonious.
Meanwhile, things were rather miserable for Harry.
Originally, he thought that strolling with Cho Chang and Ginny would be quite pleasant.
But somehow, from the moment they left the Three Broomsticks, walking between the two girls, he felt something was off.
Yet when it came to pinpointing exactly what felt strange, he couldn't quite articulate it.
As they passed the somewhat shadowy entrance of the Hog's Head, Harry noticed it was much quieter than the Three Broomsticks.
Should we go in for a drink?
This thought suddenly popped into Harry's mind.
However, remembering that Hagrid had once said a mysterious person had gambled away a dragon egg to him here, Harry hesitated again.
Because facts had proven that mysterious person was Voldemort.
Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, had deliberately approached Hagrid to extract from him the secret of the room protecting the Philosopher's Stone.
His hesitant manner caught Cho Chang's attention. "Harry, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, I just noticed there are far fewer people here than at the Three Broomsticks."
Cho Chang's gaze swept over the Hog's Head's somewhat dim entrance, her lips maintaining a gentle curve as she said in a soft voice, "This place isn't as prominently located as the Three Broomsticks, and it lacks signature drinks like butterbeer."
She paused, her gaze passing over Harry's slightly hesitant face, the warm smile at her lips deepening. "Of course, I think the most important reason is that this place lacks someone who can light up the entire space."
Harry nodded, feeling that Cho Chang made sense.
Although the Hog's Head was also at a crossroads, it was tucked into a side road you had to turn into after leaving the post office on the main avenue.
Moreover, its storefront had no advantages compared to the Three Broomsticks. A battered wooden sign hung on a rusty bracket above the door, painted with a severed boar's head, blood seeping through the white cloth wrapped around it.
There was also the key point Cho Chang had identified—that person who could light up the entire space.
That was Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks.
She was a beautiful woman with an elegant figure. The Three Broomsticks' booming business was not unrelated to her.
In contrast, the owner of the Hog's Head was an old man who appeared quite eccentric.
Harry had only seen him once. He was tall and thin, with long gray-white hair and beard.
An old man versus a charming woman with an elegant figure—obviously the latter was more attractive.
Moreover, besides the signature butterbeer, Madam Rosmerta would occasionally introduce desserts like honey pudding to attract customers.
Just as Harry was immersed in this comparative analysis, Ginny's clear voice interrupted, "Harry, you're most familiar with this place. Can you be my guide? Tell me about these places?"
He finally realized what had been bothering him.
Since leaving the Three Broomsticks, Cho Chang and Ginny hadn't spoken a single word to each other!
However, because he had been continuously conversing with either Cho Chang or Ginny without any awkward silences, he hadn't noticed this until now.
"Uh... of course, but..."
Harry's understanding of Hogsmeade was far from deserving the description of "most familiar."
After all, he had only been allowed to come here last year, and he couldn't visit every time.
Sherlock, on the other hand, had come here with Hagrid and Professor Flitwick back in his first year.
However, Sherlock wasn't particularly interested in the place, and he wasn't nearby at the moment anyway.
So, Harry naturally thought of someone else.
He turned his pleading gaze to Cho Chang. "Cho..."
Cho Chang smiled.
Unlike the oblivious Harry, she had sensed something was off from the very beginning.
She also understood clearly the source of this awkwardness.
Girls mature earlier however....
Two years ago, when she first spent time with Harry, she certainly hadn't been this eager.
Cho Chang's gaze flowed between Harry and Ginny, a trace of understanding flashing in her eyes.
To Ginny's surprise, Cho Chang acted like an understanding older sister, naturally reaching out to brush away a few strands of red hair that the wind had blown across Ginny's forehead.
"That is indeed a good idea. Harry is very familiar with some interesting details here."
Even her voice seemed to carry a soft smile.
When she turned to Harry, her face bore a trusting smile, and she winked playfully. "You don't mind telling us again, do you, Harry? I'm quite curious about those little stories myself."
Her tone was light and sincere, skillfully picking up Ginny's topic and dissolving any potential awkwardness.
Subtly, she had elevated Harry to a position as a storyteller eagerly anticipated by both girls, while outwardly supporting Ginny's request.
Harry's embarrassment dissipated considerably.
He glanced gratefully at Cho and began introducing the Hog's Head by the roadside.
"Actually, I don't know much, but only the small room on the first floor here is the actual pub. The second floor is an inn..."
As Harry was speaking, a bleak autumn wind blew through, sweeping up several withered, curled leaves.
One golden-yellow leaf spiraled down and landed precisely on Cho Chang's black hair near her temple.
Cho Chang instinctively started to raise her hand to brush it away.
But at that moment, Harry somehow found himself, as if possessed, unconsciously reaching out to remove the leaf for her.
The instant his fingertips touched Cho Chang's smooth, slightly cool cheek, their eyes met.
All three froze in that moment.
Harry's hand hung suspended in mid-air, the withered leaf still clinging to his fingertips.
The lingering sensation at his fingertips—the dry roughness of the leaf contrasted with Cho Chang's cheek felt like a scorching brand.
In that moment, Harry felt his blood rush to his head, his cheeks were burning hot.
His mouth hung open, the interrupted introduction about the Hog's Head's second floor stuck in his throat, unable to produce another word.
The air froze, leaving only the creaking sound of wind blowing against the sign.
Cho Chang's surprise lasted only half a second.
She first blinked instinctively, and the smile that had been merely at her lips quickly spread across her entire face.
She didn't touch her own cheek but gently took the leaf from Harry's frozen fingertips, her movement was so natural it seemed like nothing more than an ordinary gesture between friends.
"Thank you, Harry."
Her voice remained soft.
"Otherwise, it might have made a home in my hair."
She looked down at the leaf in her palm as if studying a precious fragment of ancient manuscript.
"Look, a complete oak leaf—autumn's messenger. See!"
With just one sentence, she shifted the focus, as if the brief touch and frozen gaze had been nothing more than a perfectly natural little interlude.
Harry's tense nerves suddenly relaxed, but his heart still pounded like a drum in his chest.
Cho Chang's gentleness and composure had doused his inner panic, yet allowed another more scorching, more bewildered emotion to grow silently.
He could clearly see the suspicious blush not yet faded from Cho Chang's earlobe, and could even more acutely sense the intimacy and tolerance in her tone.
This thoughtfulness was like a feather lightly scratching at his heart, leaving it both sore and swollen.
"Ah? Yes, yes... an oak leaf..."
Harry took the leaf, stammering in agreement, but didn't dare look into Cho Chang's eyes.
He could only regretfully redirect his gaze to the shabby Hog's Head sign, though he registered nothing.
His mind repeatedly replayed the electric sensation when his fingertips touched her cheek.
Standing on Harry's other side, Ginny naturally took everything in.
Her gaze slowly moved from Harry's flushed cheeks and stiff fingers to Cho Chang's still warmly smiling face, finally settling on the withered leaf in Cho Chang's palm.
A trace of knowing bitterness silently swept across the tip of her heart.
No anger, no jealousy—only a kind of settled calm.
So that's how it is.
Or rather, of course that's how it is.
Cho Chang's response was so mature, so elegant, carrying an understated intimacy and control.
Compared to her, she was like a child still clutching a candy jar, trying to attract attention through clumsy means.
In this moment, Ginny clearly felt a gap.
It was a gap in experience, or rather in that ease and confidence when facing emotions.
"Let's go."
Ginny's clear voice rang out, breaking the somewhat sticky atmosphere between the two.
She naturally walked around Harry to Cho Chang's other side, saying to Harry in a relaxed tone: "Aren't you supposed to continue being our guide? About the second-floor inn—are there any... interesting ghost stories, like the Shrieking Shack..."
Her gaze also fell frankly on Harry's face, as if the emotionally charged scene moments ago had never happened.
Cho Chang keenly caught the change in Ginny's tone.
That subtle lightness of having set down some burden, and a newly clarified sense of positioning.
She immediately understood.
At the same time, her assessment of this red-haired young witch quietly rose a notch.
Remarkable, truly a clever and proud girl.
Cho Chang let the leaf fall gently into the wind, showing Ginny a more sincere smile tinged with understanding. "Yes, Harry, both Ginny and I are quite curious."
Another sentence that pushed Harry into the spotlight while also including Ginny in the "we" camp, invisibly solidifying the current dynamic among the three.
Only then did Harry truly come to his senses.
He looked at the two beautiful girls standing before him with inquiring gazes: one still with a touching blush on her cheeks, her eyes gentle and focused.
The other composed and natural, her eyes showing pure curiosity and a kind of clarity after resolution.
"No ghost stories, but I do know that Dumbledore once interviewed Professor Trelawney here..."
Though he had promised Dumbledore not to reveal the prophecy or matters concerning Professor Snape, the story of the Divination professor still captured the two girls' attention.
Seeing this, the weight on Harry's heart finally lifted.
But the flutter stirred by Cho Chang was like a stone thrown into a lake, its ripples unable to settle for a long time.
He knew very clearly that something had changed.
In the early evening, honey-like slanting sunlight bathed Hogsmeade in warm gold.
The three groups met punctually at the village entrance.
Ron was the first to bounce over.
His face was flushed, his hair messier than usual, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Amazing! Couldn't be better!" he shouted to everyone, eager to share. "The places Sirius took me to see were simply—!"
Sirius walked behind with his hands in his wizard robe pockets, unhurried.
His manner was leisurely, but those gray eyes flashed with a wild light.
Seeing Ron's excitement, he chuckled softly and wagged his finger at him, "Keep it secret, Ron. Got to save some surprises for next time."
Ron immediately shut his mouth while nodding vigorously.
But the barely contained excitement and satisfaction still overflowed from his disheveled hair and broad grin.
Sherlock's gaze swept over everyone and suddenly stopped on Harry. "You just saw Hagrid?"
"Sherlock, how did you know?" Ginny immediately asked in surprise.
"That handprint on Harry's shoulder—besides Hagrid, perhaps only Madame Maxime could match it. But I don't think she would affectionately pat Harry's shoulder like that."
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