Three Broomsticks

October arrived before anyone realized it. A damp chill hung over the grounds, seeping slowly into the castle through every crack in the doors and windows.

A sudden cold swept through both staff and students, leaving Madam Pomfrey rushed off her feet.

Her Pepperup Potion worked like a charm, but anyone who drank it had steam pouring from their ears for hours afterward.

During one experiment, Pandora had an accident while grinding Horned Serpent horn—a raincloud materialized out of nowhere above her head and followed her wherever she went.

"I didn't think it'd do that..." she said, utterly baffled, her hair dripping wet as she spoke to a dumbstruck Snape.

The professors were just as helpless against the bizarre cloud; none of them could explain it.

The cloud hung over Pandora for several days, then vanished as silently as it had come.

After two days of being tailed by Filch with a bucket and mop, muttering under his breath the whole time, and getting glared at by his goldfish eyes blazing with fury, Pandora finally caved and caught a cold.

Snape forced her to drink some Pepperup Potion. As a result, steam kept billowing from beneath her bright blonde hair, making her whole head look like it was on fire.

Bullet-sized raindrops pounded against the castle windows for days without stopping. The lake swelled under the relentless downpour, and the flowerbeds turned into muddy slop.

Hagrid's pumpkins, on the other hand, went wild in the rain, swelling until each one was as big as a garden shed.

It wasn't until mid-October that the weather finally cleared, and sunlight once again bathed Hogwarts.

The notice board in the common room announced that the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term was that very weekend.

Snape had thought, after the Inferi uprising, they wouldn't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Knowing they could still go, he was naturally pleased.

After all, after such a long rainy season, getting out of the castle for some fresh air—even if only for a few hours—was enough to lift anyone's spirits.

Besides, a few days ago, after getting a faceful of rain from an owl, Snape had received an invitation from Madam Rosmerta, saying the finest mead was waiting for his visit.

"Who's the letter from?" Aber asked curiously.

"Nothing." After recognizing the handwriting, Snape quickly folded it and stuffed it into his pocket.

He had to admit, the temptation of mead was too great to resist.

On the morning of the Hogsmeade trip, a fierce wind was howling outside, slamming mercilessly against the windows. The weather was no longer as warm as the day before.

"Pandora," Snape said as soon as he sat down for breakfast, "are you coming to Hogsmeade with us later?"

"Yeah," Pandora's eyes lit up, and she said eagerly, "I want a nice hot Butterbeer."

"Uh... I'd like a drink too." Snape nodded slowly, then added.

The whole walk to Hogsmeade, Snape felt uneasy.

On one hand, even though he'd wrapped his scarf tightly around the lower half of his face, the exposed parts still got stung raw by the wind as he bent forward against it, eventually going numb.

On the other hand, having Pandora along made him a bit nervous. He kept telling himself he just wanted to have a few glasses of precious mead—after all, that stuff wasn't cheap.

At the fork in the village path, Aber suddenly spread his arms and blocked Snape's way.

"Hold on," he said with a sly grin, "aren't you going to invite me in for a drink? Aren't we best mates?"

"I never said that." Snape shot him a glare and replied irritably.

"Always with the hurtful words," Aber said, still grinning. "I reckon your heart's not really in the drink, is it?"

"You... you... what are you on about?" Snape's face flushed slightly.

"You can't fool my eyes with your little schemes."

"What schemes? Fine, come on in then."

Snape said this, threw an arm around Aber, and tried to drag him into the Three Broomsticks. Hah, as if he didn't know what was what.

"No... I've got things to do..." Now it was Aber's turn to struggle, his smile slipping.

"You're too much. I invite you along, and you still want to leave. Have you been bewitched by some woman who popped out of nowhere?"

"Please, let me go, I was wrong."

"Then tell me, what's so urgent?"

"Mrs... Mrs. Pudifoot's Tea Shop..."

"Oh, that's a nice place, but it's quite far from here. You might not make it in time."

"Please..." Aber looked at Snape pitifully.

The two shoved each other for a good while before Snape finally let go.

"Can't do anything with you. Go on, then."

Snape turned around and saw Pandora still standing at the pub entrance, watching them with a fond expression.

"Stop staring, stop staring, it's freezing out here," Snape said grumpily. "What's with young girls in the United Kingdom these days, filling their heads with all sorts of strange ideas... clearly not enough homework..."

With that, he pulled open the door and hurried inside the little pub with Pandora.

The pub was packed, incredibly crowded and noisy, hot and stuffy, with a thick layer of smoke hanging in the air.

The charming landlady, Madam Rosmerta, with a bright red silk scarf draped over her shoulders, was serving a rowdy group of wizards at the bar.

By the window on the right, near the fireplace, there was still a small empty table.

As he pushed through the crowd, hit by a foul mix of tobacco and strong liquor, Snape spotted a scruffy, unshaven, short, fat man with a mess of ginger hair, wearing a shabby coat and a lecherous look.

Mundungus?

The unreliable scumbag who fled during the battle, causing Mad-Eye's death, and then ransacked Number 12, Grimmauld Place?

Snape frowned, pressing his pocket shut, and pulled Pandora through the crowd, dodging left and right until they squeezed behind the bar.

"What do you want to drink?" Pandora asked. "I'll go get the drinks."

"It's fine, I'll go," Snape said. "I know you want a Butterbeer."

He had just stood up when he saw Madam Rosmerta approaching with a tray, smiling and nodding at him.

On the tray rested an exquisite bottle, two glass cups, and a large mug of steaming, frothy Butterbeer.

The bottle must contain Madam Rosmerta's Oak-Ripened Honeywine, Snape thought.

A pair of shimmering turquoise high heels flickered in and out of sight through the crowd, heading this way.

Thank you to reader 20210605180554745 for the monthly ticket.