A smiling and kind plump lady with funny curls of graying hair under a neat hat looked at us with a smile, and when we were finally ready to listen, she continued:
"Tomorrow is the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. I ask that anyone with permission forms signed by a parent or guardian hand them in to me now."
Of course, many immediately ran to their rooms, and only a few reached into their backpacks and bags. I was among the latter—my parents had prepared everything they needed, and this permission was among them.
After a couple of minutes, all the organizational issues were resolved, and Madam Sprout continued.
"Tomorrow, Wednesday, October thirty-first, is an official day off. In the morning after breakfast, all those who have the right to visit Hogsmeade are asked to gather in the courtyard of Hogwarts, which is in front of the exit from the castle. Have a good day. Children, study well."
Naturally, after such an obvious reminder that two months of school had passed, and that there, beyond the castle walls, awaited us a small but unique entertainment, variety, shopping, and all that other stuff, the school day went down the drain completely. All everyone did was discuss where to go in Hogsmeade, where to go in Hogsmeade, and where not to go in Hogsmeade.
Well, on the morning of the thirty-first, we were all standing in "civilian" in the middle of the courtyard right at the exit, literally clinging to the fountain in the center, as well as other surfaces on which you can sit, on which you can lean, and so on. And when I say "we," I mean almost all the students of the school with a small exception—there was almost no free space left around. Fog all around, humidity, and a slight coolness. This is the kind of weather that made me happy right now, but at the beginning of autumn, it created only suffocation.
"And remember," Professor McGonagall instructed us in her black hat and robes, "visits to Hogsmeade are a privilege. If it affects your grades, you will be stripped of that privilege."
One of the few who remained in the castle, but the only one who saw us off with a sad look, was Potter. Unlucky guy, what can you say.
We left the school, a cheerful crowd following Professor McGonagall. My keen eye noticed as many as ten wizards in red robes, who were hiding quite well in the area, seeing us off. It seemed that we were given some kind of security—the threat of Sirius Black was still there, but we also had no information about him. The unknown, as we know, only makes the situation worse.
On the way to Hogsmeade, a village on the plain at the foot of Hogwarts, the crowd of students had become so mixed up that I could no longer see the familiar faces around me. And when we reached the village itself, I was carried away by looking at the wonderful wooden and stone houses that seemed to have emerged from an English fairy tale—high and sharp tiled roofs, pleasant decoration, a stone-paved road underfoot, bright shop windows on the ground floors of the houses. And most importantly—no pretentious signs and smoking or flying obscenities here and there, like in Diagon Alley—everything in a single English style. While I was examining the details, the crowd of students broke up into groups and dispersed in a stream of enthusiasm throughout the village. And who was left?
Standing practically at the entrance to the village, right after the bridge, in the middle of the gloomy dark green grass and ferns growing in the distance, I looked out among the groups of students and the rare adults for those I knew.
"Heh-heh-heh," a sly laugh burst out of me on its own when I saw two girls I knew with scarves in the colors of Slytherin.
"…how quickly they ran away," Parkinson looked around, adjusting the collar of her green coat.
"You should have been more careful," Daphne answered her, trying, on the contrary, to gain more freedom in her black coat.
"Lady," I appeared "out of nowhere," wedging myself between them and deftly grabbing both of them by the elbow.
"Granger!" they both cried out in surprise.
"Oh, thank you, lady," I led them down the street. "I was beginning to forget my last name in the friendly and familiar environment of my faculty."
A cavalcade of absurdly happy fifth- and sixth-year students passed us. Kindergarten—pants with suspenders. But their enthusiasm is infectious.
"Hector," Daphne looked at me reproachfully, but did not remove her hand from the crook of my elbow. Actually, just like Parkinson, following her friend's example. The herd mentality of a person manifests itself even in such trifles, and I am also subject to it, let's face it.
"Yes?"
"Your impudence knows no bounds."
"Exactly," Pansy confirmed, looking around, probably looking for green scarves on the students. "Such behavior is not befitting of an adult wizard."
"An adult? Lady, don't rush to live. Growing up is an inevitability that will come regardless of our desires," we were approaching an interesting-looking candy store, through the windows of which one could see counters simply sparkling with bright colors.
"But childhood and youth," I continued, leading the girls to this candy store, "pass irrevocably. Another five years, and no one will stand behind us, insuring us. We will have to make important decisions, on which a lot depends, and there will be no mentors nearby to correct us. Pranks, thoughtless and impulsive actions, which we so want to commit, will be unacceptable."
"In short, Nostradamus," Daphne grinned, and I opened the door for them.
"In short? Seize the moment. Let's look for some tasty treats!"
Of course, we were far from the first here, but due to the diversity of representatives of all age groups and faculties, no one cared about two Slytherins and one Hufflepuff. Sweets here, in the "Honeydukes," were for every taste, color, and degree of fantasy perversion—what are the various animated chocolate sweets, all-flavored dragées, and other enchanted dregs worth. My eyes ran wide from the variety of colors and shapes, and the shard of the elf seemed to shake its head, looking at this truly childish ugliness. But it is worth giving credit to those who came up with all this—what could be more tempting for children, and adults too?
After the candy store, we went for a walk around the village. The girls did a good job of shopping; it cost a couple of Galleons, which I, like a decent gentleman, took out of my pocket.
We, by mutual silent consent, bypassed the magic joke shop "Zonko's." As it turned out, such things are not in our interests at all. Although I would have stopped by to see what the wizards had come up with, considering the limitless energy available for the implementation of ideas.