"Creak, creak..."
In the depths of winter, three cloaked figures walked along the road through the middle of Hogsmeade Village. After pausing briefly at a fork in the road, they split up. One continued onward, while the other two turned toward the Three Broomsticks.
The moment the door opened, the damp chill of snow was swallowed by a wave of warmth scented with honey, hot butter, and woodsmoke. Holly and mistletoe hung from the tavern ceiling, while the roaring fireplace cast the entire hall in a golden, languid glow.
Madam Rosmerta was briskly directing a row of cups to polish themselves with her wand. Regulars crowded around the newly arranged tables, some laughing and chatting, others dozing in corners.
The two people wrapped in thick traveling cloaks entered, bringing in a gust of cold wind and several snowflakes. Quite a few people glanced over instinctively, only to see that they had pulled their fur-trimmed hoods low and raised their scarves beneath their eyes, making their faces completely impossible to see.
Such attire was not unusual in the cold of December. Madam Rosmerta asked with a smile, "What would the guests like to drink?"
The taller of the two stepped up to the counter, set down several gold Galleons, and said, "One room, a double bed, somewhere quiet."
His voice was low, carrying a faint foreign accent.
Madam Rosmerta's gaze swept over the pair, but she asked no further questions. She simply took out a key and slid it over. "The innermost room upstairs. Would you like dinner delivered?"
"Yes, thank you," said the shorter person, whose voice sounded somewhat livelier.
Madam Rosmerta nodded and watched them turn toward the stairs. As they stepped onto the stairs, their cloaks lifted to reveal finely crafted dragonhide boots beneath.
The door closed,