FreeWebNovel Chapter 511 512: The Hogsmeade Permission
Chapter 511 512: The Hogsmeade Permission
"—Promise to be a good boy and stay inside the castle?" Harry said glumly.
"Not exactly," Mr. Weasley said. Harry had never seen him look so grim. "Harry,
I want you to give me your word that you won't go looking for Black."
Harry stared at him, stunned. "What? Why would I go looking for someone who
wants to kill me?"
Before Mr. Weasley could answer, a thunderous BANG echoed through the street.
The Knight Bus—that violet, triple-decker monstrosity that could supposedly
deliver a wizard anywhere except across water—screeched to a halt. Stan Shunpike
stood at the door, leaning lazily against the frame.
"Swear it, Harry," Mr. Weasley pressed, his words coming faster now. "No matter
what happens—"
"Arthur, hurry up!" Mrs. Weasley called from the steps of the bus.
There was no more time for goodbyes. Harry watched as Mr. Weasley lugged the
final trunk onto the bus, following behind Sean. Ron, however, stayed behind. He
wasn't going back to the Burrow; he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry
for the final night.
"I'm glad to see the back of them, even if it's only for a day," Ron muttered.
"At least I can get away from Percy. He's been having a go at me because I
accidentally dripped tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron
made a face, "his girlfriend. She's currently hiding behind the frame because
her nose is covered in spots..."
With a violent shudder, the Knight Bus roared to life and sped away. Harry and
Ron waved at the window where the Weasleys were huddled. They had just finished
giving Sean a massive group hug before setting him down at the pub entrance.
Finally, the bus turned a corner and vanished.
Sean's hair was a mess from Mrs. Weasley's enthusiastic fussing. He gave his
wand a casual flick, and the strands smoothed themselves back into their usual
perfect order. He turned around to find a dazed Harry, a pouting Ron, and a
deep-in-conversation Justin and Hermione.
In the distance, a figure in billowing black robes was approaching. Sean
recognized the silhouette immediately: Professor Snape. He was always punctual
to the second when it came to collecting Sean.
But Harry reached Sean first. "I need to talk to you lot," he whispered
urgently.
"What about?" Ron asked, looking confused.
"Sure, Harry," Justin nodded.
"Where's Sean going?" Hermione asked, looking toward the dark figure in the
distance.
Sean walked over, joining the group as they hurried back into the relative
privacy of the pub. As they entered, a low bark echoed from the upper
floor—Room 10.
"Don't see many wizards keeping big black dogs as pets," Ron remarked.
"That's not a common wizard," Hermione noted, her voice carrying a hint of
hesitation. She remembered the Pukwudgie creature Sean had brought to school
before. Why it was here now, and why it had a dog, was a mystery she hadn't yet
solved.
"The owner is a Pukwudgie, a distant relative of goblins," Justin explained
helpfully.
"That makes it even weirder," Ron grumbled, turning back to Harry. "Anyway,
Harry. What's the big secret?"
Harry recounted everything—the argument between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and
Arthur's frantic warning. When he finished, Ron looked struck dumb, Justin's
brow was furrowed in thought, and Hermione had her hands clamped over her mouth.
"Sirius Black broke out just to find you?" she gasped. "Oh, Harry... you have to
be so, so careful. Don't go looking for trouble."
"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry said irritably. "Trouble usually finds
me."
"Harry would have to be a complete dunderhead to go looking for a lunatic who
wants to kill him," Ron said with a shiver.
Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione seemed even more terrified of Black than he
was. He looked at Sean, who remained as calm and unbothered as ever. That
calmness was infectious; it made Harry feel a little better, though it also made
him feel a twinge of shame. He shouldn't always have to rely on Sean to feel
safe.
"No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," Ron said uneasily. "No one's ever done
it before. And he was a high-security prisoner, too."
"But they'll catch him, won't they?" Hermione asked. "I mean, even the Muggles
are looking for him now."
Whistle...
"What's that noise?" Ron asked. A faint, high-pitched whistling sound was coming
from somewhere nearby.
"It's coming from your pocket, Harry," Ron said.
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the Pocket Sneakoscope. It was
spinning wildly on the palm of his hand, emitting a brilliant, flickering light.
"Is that a Sneakoscope?" Hermione asked, leaning in with interest.
"Yeah... a cheap one, though," Ron said. "It started acting up when I tied it to
Errol's leg to send to Harry."
"You weren't doing anything... untrustworthy at the time, were you?" Hermione
asked pointedly.
"No! Blimey... I shouldn't have used Errol. He's too old for long-distance
flights. I just didn't have any other way to get the gift to Harry."
"That is very strange," Hermione said, glancing at Justin and then at Sean, who
was staring out the window.
Sean knew exactly why it was going off. The Sneakoscope hadn't been broken when
it detected Scabbers, and it certainly wasn't broken now. It was detecting the
approach of Professor Snape—a man who, as a Master of the Dark Arts, naturally
carried traces of "untrustworthy" magic on his person.
"Turn it off, it's giving me a headache," Harry suggested as the whistling grew
shriller.
Ron stuffed the device into a particularly hideous pair of old socks in his
trunk, and the sound finally died down. "We can take it to Dervish and Banges in
Hogsmeade to get it checked," Ron said, sitting back down. "Fred and George say
they've got all sorts of gear there."
"Do you know a lot about Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked excitedly. "I've read about
it in Notable Magical Locations—the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in
Britain!"
"Yeah, I suppose," Ron said dismissively. "But I'm not going for the history.
I'm going for Honeydukes!"
"The sweetshop?"
"The very one," Ron said, a dreamy look crossing his face. "They've got
everything. Pepper Imps that make you smoke at the ears... massive Chocoballs
filled with strawberry mousse and clotted cream... and those brilliant Sugar
Quill lollipops you can suck in class so it looks like you're just thinking
about your essay..."
"Hogsmeade is a fascinating place," Hermione huffed. "A History of Magic says
the local inn was the headquarters for the 1612 Goblin Rebellion. And the
Shrieking Shack is said to be the most haunted building in Britain—"
"—and they have massive Fizzing Whizbees that make you levitate a few inches off
the ground while you eat them," Ron added, clearly not listening to a word about
goblins.
Hermione turned to Justin and Sean. "It'll be lovely to get out of the castle
for a bit, won't it? You're both going, right? Justin? Harry?"
"Definitely," Justin smiled.
"Of course," Harry said. His mood had improved significantly. Thinking of
Hogsmeade reminded him of the permission slip Aunt Petunia had secretly signed
for him. Despite him blowing up Aunt Marge and failing to "behave," she had
still given him her approval. At the time, Harry didn't realize that some forms
of love are unconditional.
"What about you, Sean?" Hermione asked. She had been building up to this
question, and now she was staring at him with undisguised intensity.
"I... I'm not sure," Sean said hesitantly.
Hogsmeade sounded wonderful, and Professor McGonagall had been more than ready
to sign his slip. But a specific obstacle had appeared in his path.
He thought of the letter he'd received:
Dear Mr. Green,
Please note that the new term begins on September 1st. The Hogwarts Express will
depart from Platform 9¾ at King's Cross Station at eleven o'clock.
If you intend to spend the final week of the holidays at the farm, please
contact me directly.
I am pleased to inform you, dear Mr. Green, that third-year students are
permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please bring
the enclosed form to me for my signature.
On a side note, your Potions Professor has expressed significant disapproval
regarding this matter. I suggest you bypass him entirely and come straight to
me.
I have enclosed your booklist for the coming year.
—Your faithful Deputy Headmistress and Guardian, Minerva McGonagall.
"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Ron asked, looking horrified. "They won't
let you go? But—that's impossible—surely if someone signs it—"
"Hey!" Hermione glared at Ron. She remembered Sean's birthday—there had been no
family, only professors and friends. She realized Ron was stepping into
sensitive territory.
Ron looked baffled by the glare, but he whispered a suggestion anyway. "Maybe
Professor Flitwick or someone else could sign it? Or we can ask Fred and
George—they know every secret way out of the castle—"
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "That would be breaking school rules!"
"Blimey, Hermione, since when do you care about school rules?"
Hermione flushed red. She ignored Ron and turned back to Sean. "But Ron is
right. A Professor can make the final call."
As she spoke, she started fussing with the latch on Crookshanks's basket.
"Don't let that thing out!" Ron warned.
Too late. Crookshanks leaped from the basket, stretched his bow-legged frame,
and landed squarely on Ron's lap. The lump in Ron's pocket began to shake
violently.
"Get off!" Ron hissed, shoving the cat away.
"Ron, don't be mean!" Hermione cried.
"It's the hundredth time! That cat has it out for Scabbers!"
It was a common sight—a cat hunting a rat. But while the others saw a simple pet
rivalry, the ginger cat seemed to see something much more sinister.
"What do you think, Sean?" Hermione asked, clutching Crookshanks. The cat
settled into an empty chair, his "squashed" face turned toward Sean, though his
yellow eyes never left the bulge in Ron's pocket.
"I think the answer is 'no,'" a cold, silky voice drawled.
Ron and Harry jumped as if they'd been poked with a Hot-Air Charm. Hermione and
Justin looked up in surprise to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway.
"Professor," Sean said, standing up.
"Green..." Snape's dark, piercing eyes swept over the group of students before
settling on Sean. "You have five minutes for your goodbyes. Then, you are coming
with me."
Sean nodded. It was time to return to the castle. He had much to do: a cursed
locket to deal with in Hope Cottage and the final stages of his Master-level
Dark Arts training.
"If I may ask, Professor... why?" Justin asked respectfully before they could
leave.
"Who knows?" Ron muttered to Harry. "If anyone's going to be in charge of Sean,
it should be Flitwick, not..."
Harry nodded in silent agreement.
"There is no 'why,'" Snape sneered. He turned on his heel and stroded out, Sean
following close behind.
Out on the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, Snape didn't immediately
Apparate. He seemed to have something on his mind.
"The matter of the fugitive, Black... are you aware of the details?" he asked,
his voice stiff and unnatural.
"Yes, Professor." Sean glanced back at the window of Room 10.
"Hmph. Green... you should know that he is dangerous." Snape leaned down, his
eyes boring into Sean's for a split second before he looked away. "Extremely
dangerous."
He paused, then added, "Until those dunderheads at the Ministry manage to catch
him, you are forbidden from entering Hogsmeade."
His tone was awkward, and his eyes shifted nervously. He didn't know everything
Sean was up to, but he knew about the secret passages of Hogwarts—and where they
led.
"I understand, Professor," Sean said. He was slightly surprised. Snape sounded
almost as if he were... negotiating?
"At least you aren't as thick as the others," Snape muttered. He looked at the
shops along the alley, seemingly unaware of how much his own attitude toward
Sean had softened over the years.
Sean fell into thought. McGonagall had signed the slip, but Snape had forbidden it. He was caught between his two "guardians."
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