Hogsmeade

"I don't remember, Professor."

"Hmm?" Dumbledore looked at Nelson in confusion. "Is the academic pressure that heavy?"

"No, Professor." Nelson raised one hand and rubbed the handwriting with the other. "One night two months ago, I went to Ravenclaw's Owlery to send a letter—"

"Was that the night all you first-years went wandering around after curfew?"

"Sorry, Professor." Nelson scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.

"It's all right. Go on." Dumbledore straightened up from the back of the sofa and listened gravely as Nelson described what had happened that night during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

"Wait, you said a painting of a little girl at the end of the corridor leading out of the Slytherin Common Room helped light your way?"

"Yes, Professor. There had always been a large picture frame there, and sometimes there was a little girl playing with fire."

"Mm... go on, Nelson."

"Later, I found Professor Sakes..."

"Sakes was in her office?" Dumbledore leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands beneath his chin as he pondered.

"Yes, Professor. What happened afterward was rather strange." Nelson began describing how, from that day onward, he kept forgetting about his backpack.

"Nelson, you should be doing well in History of Magic, shouldn't you?" Dumbledore suddenly asked after hearing his account.

"I suppose so, Professor. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing. I don't think there's anything wrong with your memory itself. There may have been something in your bag that night—" Dumbledore suddenly fell silent in thought.

"What happened that night?"

"Nothing. If you find anything, be sure to tell me. I can't make sense of it yet either." Dumbledore rose from the sofa and walked over to his desk.

"All right, Professor."

"Get some rest early. And don't go wandering around at night again." He gestured for Nelson to leave, then smiled and pulled out a bag of honey cookies from a desk drawer. "I've always dreamed of opening a dessert shop in Hogsmeade that sells honey products. Take these and eat them on the way."

"Good night, Professor." Nelson accepted the cookies, slipped the little parcel from the coffee table into his pocket, then got up and left the office.

"Are you all right, Nal?" Tom sat on his bed, casting a spell at a sheet of parchment. "Serpensortia!"

A black python with phosphorescent reflections slithered out of his wand, flicking its tongue as it moved across the Dormitory's stone floor. Its cold, hard scales scraped against the ground with a teeth-grating hiss.

Nelson crouched in the corner, examining his bag. The python's tongue brushed his ankle, and he kicked its head aside.

"I'm fine. Dumbledore asked me to bring something back when I return to London."

"Oh, she's so beautiful..." Tom leaned against his headboard, staring dazedly at the python he had just summoned. "Good. I thought you'd been caught letting them copy your Transfiguration homework."

"No, Tom. What I let them copy was another version I wrote."

"Tom, you're amazing! You can actually cast that spell!" Allen Abbott turned over in bed. Seeing the python on the floor, he exclaimed in amazement.

"Thank you, Allen. Call me Riddle." Tom's thanks were cold.

"Sorry... Riddle... I mean..." Allen stammered an apology. The other two roommates also sat up at the commotion. Seeing the snake Nelson had kicked aside on the floor, they began loudly praising it as well.

"You..." An incongruous voice suddenly cut in. Nelson, who had opened his bag, turned to his roommates and asked, "Did any of you touch my bag?"

The bag was empty.

At noon on Thursday, Nelson and the others sat at the long table in the dining hall, chatting after lunch.

"Alphard, what are you still sitting here for after you've finished eating?"

"Walking it off." Alphard gave his sister an awkward smile.

"If I find out that you—" Walburga glared suspiciously at the brother who constantly worried her.

"We have something planned later. The holiday's about to begin." Tom stepped in to rescue Alphard.

"All right, Tom, make sure you keep an eye on him!" Walburga's expression changed instantly. "Are you really not coming to our house during the holiday? We're in London too. We could—"

"All right, all right. We'll come if we have time." Nelson set down his corn juice and helped Tom brush her off. "Give the boys some private space, Walburga." Alphard pushed his sister out of the dining hall, closing the door behind her before returning to the long table.

"Let's go!" He stood before the table with imposing grandeur, as though he had become a different person.

"It's right ahead." Alphard crept through the corridor on tiptoe.

"It's daytime. Walking through the corridor doesn't break any school rules, so why are you sneaking around?" More than a dozen first-year Slytherins followed behind him. Tom could not help frowning as he asked; the looks the passing students had given them, as though they were thieves, had made him very uncomfortable.

"Sorry, sorry. Habit." Alphard smiled and straightened up, but before long, he began sneaking about again.

They followed the third-floor corridor until they stopped before a statue of a one-eyed old witch.

"This is it." The others spread out, leaving room for Alphard to perform.

He walked up to the statue and began feeling around on the old witch's hunchback.

"Could you not do that? It's kind of disgusting." Watching Alphard's movements, Tom clicked his tongue in disgust and stepped back. Everyone around him did the same.

"The mechanism behind this statue is a little hard to find..." Alphard protested.

"Then how did you find it in the first place?" Nelson could not help asking curiously.

Alphard muttered a string of incomprehensible words, then suddenly let out a delighted cry.

"It's open!" With a series of clack-clack-clack sounds, like a Cybertronian transforming, the old witch's hunchback split down the middle and slowly opened to either side, revealing a dim secret passage.

At the end of the passage was a wooden board. They pushed it open and crawled out, emerging into the basement of a poorly patronized tavern.

"Gentlemen, welcome to Hogsmeade!" Alphard stood to one side and put on airs as he performed a Wizard's salute.

No one paid him any attention. Alphard was left awkwardly standing there while everyone swiftly slipped out the tavern's back door one after another, the Galleons inside their robes clinking together. They could not wait to rush into Hogsmeade and experience it for themselves.

Heavy clouds hung over Hogsmeade that day, and faint mist drifted through the village, but none of it could dampen the excitement of these Little Snakes visiting Hogsmeade for the first time.

"We'll meet at the entrance of this tavern at four this afternoon." Tom stood in the middle of the group and gave his instructions. Though the crowd was restless, everyone obediently remained where they stood.

"All right, see you later." They dispersed in twos and threes.

"Nal, I want to buy some Wizarding specialties. Want to come?" Tom looked at Nelson, who had remained behind, and invited him.

"I want to look around first. Let's meet at Three Broomsticks in an hour, all right?" Nelson had done his homework.

"All right." Tom shrugged and headed toward the shopping street.

Nelson wandered aimlessly through Hogsmeade's alleys. The mist around him grew thicker and thicker, and the moisture in the air made him uncomfortable. He pulled his wand from his pocket and held it in his hand.

"Waterproof and moisture-proof." Nelson tapped his sleeve, but the clammy sensation did not ease. He recalled the dense fog his wand had stirred up when he first acquired it. The discomfort made him want to find somewhere indoors to stay for a while, and he turned to see a nearly deserted shop.

It was a storefront with no signboard. The two-story, box-shaped building exposed bare concrete. Gray made a building look old and dirty, yet through the open wooden door, the inside appeared bright and spotless.

Nelson walked in. Lamps filled the shop, and the glaring light made him squint.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he looked around the shop—the four walls were lined with wall-mounted shelves, and an inconspicuous little door stood in the corner directly opposite the entrance. The shelves were completely empty. Did I walk into a shop that's still being renovated? Nelson prepared to leave.

"What would you like to buy, sir?" A deep voice suddenly came from behind Nelson. Nelson gripped his wand tightly and turned to stare at him. The person had no hair, and his features were so delicate that it was impossible to tell whether he was male or female, though the voice suggested a man. He wore a crisp white shirt and a brown-and-black plaid vest, while his Oxford shoes gleamed beneath black trousers.

His hands were clasped behind his back, and his expression was mild. Nelson held his wand without speaking.

"Don't misunderstand, sir. I'm Daguerre, the owner. The sign hasn't been put up yet." He brought his hands out from behind his back, spread them, and shrugged with an unmistakably French expression. "I mainly sell little magical trinkets."

Nelson relaxed somewhat and returned his hand to his robe pocket, though he still did not release his wand.

"I'm Muggle-born. I want to buy some things to bring home for my family."

"For relatives who can't do magic?" Daguerre rested one hand against his temple and supported it with the other, striking a thoughtful pose. "How about a magical iron? It doesn't need heating. Just pick it up and you can iron clothes."

He reached into an empty shelf by the entrance and pulled out an iron.

"Just a little bit of magic." Seeing Nelson's astonished expression, the shopkeeper explained.

"Er, it's pretty good, but there's a laundromat next to our house..."

"How about a camera? A magical instant camera. It takes moving pictures without needing Potions to develop them." He stuffed the iron back onto the shelf and fished out a heavily scratched camera. "Since it's secondhand and can only take black-and-white pictures, it's only two Galleons. And you get a Butterbeer for free. How about it?"

"Smile!" He suddenly raised the camera and pressed the shutter at Nelson. "Look, very handsome!" He stuffed a photograph into Nelson's hand.

"I really am rather handsome..." Nelson looked at himself in the photograph and complimented himself.

"Then hurry up and buy it. You won't find a camera with better value for money." The shopkeeper pushed the camera toward him again.

"All right..." Nelson took the camera in a daze, then walked out of the shop in a daze with the Butterbeer in hand.

"What a salesman." Turning back to look at the owner waving from the entrance, Nelson could not help admiring him. He raised the camera and examined it closely. There seemed to be an inscription on the bottom. He brought it closer and studied it carefully. A name had been engraved there in flowing script: "Louis Jacques Mandé Yagor."