Chapter 865: Visit the Pig Head Bar Again

In fact, the carnival lasted until more than ten o'clock. Anyway, for Fanlin, the warm fire, the supple Hermione, and the silent magic were completely two worlds.

And Harry finally joined them, letting a very nauseated person participate in a carnival, which was obviously not very reliable.

But more than this carnival, Harry was looking forward to the trip to Hogsmeade the next day.

The day we went to Hogsmeade dawned sunny but windy. After breakfast they lined up in front of Mr. Filch, who checked their names off a long list of all those who had permission from their parents or guardians to go to the village.

Harry felt a little guilty, thinking that if it hadn't been for Sirius, he wouldn't have been able to go.

When Harry lined up in front of Filch, the administrator sniffed him hard, as if he wanted to detect something from Harry, then he simply nodded and raised his chin again, haha Leigh walked past him onto the cold, sun-drenched stone path.

Fan Lin also suffered the same treatment, which surprised Fan Lin. Because of Mrs. Lorris, the relationship between Fan Lin and Mr. Filch had always been good, but Umbridge's arrival still changed. this situation.

"Well - why does Filch smell you like that?" Ron asked as Fanlin, Harry, and Hermione walked briskly on the road leading to the gate. "I think he smells like dung bombs," Harry smiled: "I forgot to tell you..."

He then told the story of how he had sent a letter to Sirius and how seconds later Figg had burst in, demanding to see the letter. To his slight surprise, Hermione was more interested in what he had to say than even he was.

"He said he got word you ordered a stink bomb? But who told him?"

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug. "Maybe Malfoy, he'd think it was funny."

"Maybe, but I prefer that this is Umbridge's method, letting the administrator monitor us, but..." Fan Lin smiled and asked a squib to monitor the two wizards, but it was Umbridge's fault. Out of curiosity, Mrs. Lorris will definitely not help Umbridge. Both Fan Lin and Hermione can guarantee this.

Could it be that those small dried fish from Crookshanks were fed for free?

The wind blew their hair into their eyes as the four walked past tall stone pillars topped with winged beasts, then turned right onto the road leading to the village.

She was meditating on Fanlin's words all the way into Hogmade. There is no doubt that girls will always become very sensitive when it comes to Umbridge.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, "The Three Broomsticks?"

"I don't know." Fan Lin said. He was so distracted yesterday that he didn't pay much attention to whether the girl said anything or not.

"Oh - no," said Hermione, waking up from her reverie: "No, it's always crowded and noisy. I've told the others to meet us at the Hog's Head, that's another pub, you You know, it's not on the main road. I guess it's kind of... you know... hidden... but students don't usually go there, so I guess no one is eavesdropping."

They walked down the road, past Zuko's Joke Shop, where they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, not surprisingly, passed the post office, where the owls set off at regular intervals, and then turned onto a side road. , there is a tavern at the end of it. A splintered wooden sign hung on a rusty bracket above the door, depicting a stern boar's head, its blood dripping on the surrounding white cloth. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached, and the three of them hesitated at the door.

"Well, come on," Hermione said a little nervously, and Fan Lin took the lead and walked in.

It's nothing like the Three Broomsticks, where the big bar has a sparklingly warm, clean feel. The Hog's Head Bar is a small, dark and very dirty room that smells strongly like goat. There was a thick layer of grime on the bar's windows, so only a sliver of daylight filtered in, and instead, short, bare candles burned on the room's rough wooden tables. At first glance, the floor looked like compacted dirt, but as soon as Harry walked up, he knew it was actually a stone floor with thousands of years of dirt seemingly accumulated on it.

Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning the pub in his first year: "Met a lot of interesting guys at the Hog's Head"

Hagrid once said this to explain how he won a dragon egg from a hooded stranger. At that time, Harry had wondered why Hagrid was not surprised that the stranger kept his face covered. Now he realized that covering the face seemed to be very popular in the Pig's Head.

There was a man in the bar, his whole head covered in dirty gray bandages, yet he managed to swallow countless cups of the smoking, hot stuff through a small opening in his mouth. At a table by the window sat two men whose outlines were hidden under hoods, and Harry would have thought them to be dementors if they hadn't talked in thick Yorkshire accents. In a shaded corner by the hearth sat a witch, wearing a thick, black veil that fell to her feet. They could only see the tip of her nose, as it jutted out slightly from the top of her veil.

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry muttered as they walked through the pub. He paid special attention to the witch wearing a thick veil: "Did you think that it might be Umbridge under that veil?"

Hermione looked at the veiled witch. "Umbridge is shorter than her," she said quietly. "And no matter what, even if Umbridge came, she couldn't stop us, Harry, because I double-checked the school rules. We didn't break any rules, and I asked Professor Flitwick if students were allowed to Come to the Pig's Head and he said yes, but he strongly recommended that we bring our own cups and I checked every rule I could think of about study societies and further education groups, and I just don't think we should show off. What we do.”

"No," Harry said dryly, "especially since it's not strictly a study group, is it?"

The bartender came out of the back room and approached them quietly.

He is a grumpy-looking old man with long gray hair and a beard. He was tall, thin and looked at Harry ambiguously, as if he knew him very well.

"What do you want?" he muttered. "Four butterbeers, please," said Harry. The man reached under the counter, pulled out four very dirty, dusty bottles, and plopped them down on the bar.

"Eight copper knuts," he said.

"Thanks," Harry said quickly, giving him the silver coin.

The bartender's eyes traveled over Harry, lingering on his scar for a few seconds. Then he turned around and walked away, putting Harry's money into an old wooden cabinet whose drawers would slide open automatically to collect the money.

Fanlin and Hermione retreated to the table farthest from the bar and sat down, looking around while waiting for Harry and Ron.

The man in dirty gray bandages rapped his knuckles on the counter and got another smoking drink from the bartender.

But what concerned Fan Lin the most was the bartender at the Pig Head Bar.

It wasn't the first time he came to the Pig Head Bar, but the last time he came, he didn't see the owner of the bar...

As if aware of someone observing him, the bartender raised his head slightly and glanced at Fan Lin, then forced out an ugly smile and turned elsewhere. (To be continued)