HP Magic Biography

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

And Harry joined them in the end, letting a very nauseous person participate in a carnival, which is obviously not very reliable.

But compared to this carnival, what Harry looked forward to was the trip to Hogsmeade the next day.

At dawn on the day I went to Hogsmeade, it was sunny but windy. After breakfast, they lined up in front of Mr. Filch. He checked their names from a long list of all the people who got permission from their parents or guardians to go to the village.

Harry felt a little uneasy in his conscience, thinking that he wouldn't be able to go without Sirius.

When Harry lined up in front of Filch, the administrator sniffed him fiercely, as if trying to find out something from Harry, then he simply nodded and raised his chin again, ha Lei walked past him and onto the cold and sunny stone path.

Fanlin also suffered the same treatment, which surprised Fanlin. Because of Mrs. Lorice, the relationship between Fanlin and Mr. Filch has always been good, but the arrival of Umbridge has changed. This status quo.

"Well—why did 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 **** bombs," Harry smiled. "I forgot to tell you..."

Then he told about his letter to Sirius, and then Feige rushed in a few seconds later and asked to read the letter. What surprised him was that Hermione was very interested in what he said, even more interested than he himself.

"He said he got news that you ordered stink bombs? But who told him?"

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug. "Maybe it's Malfoy, he would find it ridiculous."

"Perhaps, but I prefer this to Umbridge’s method, letting the administrator monitor us, but..." Fanlin smiled, letting a dumb cannon to monitor the two wizards. Out of my imagination, Mrs. Lorris would definitely not help Umbridge, and this can be guaranteed by either Fanlin or Hermione.

Could it be that those little dried fish from Crookshanks were fed for nothing?

The four people walked through the tall stone pillars decorated with winged beasts, then turned right and walked on the road leading to the village. The wind blew their hair into their eyes.

She was meditating on Fanlin's words until entering Hogmard. There is no doubt that when it comes to Umbridge, the girl will always become very sensitive.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, "Three broomsticks?"

"I don't know." Fanlin said. He was absent-minded yesterday, not paying much attention to whether the girl said or not.

"Oh-no," Hermione said, waking up from thought: "No, it's always crowded and noisy. I've told others to meet us at Dutou, that's another bar, you You know, it’s not on the road. I think it’s a bit...you know...hidden...but students don’t usually go, so I don’t think anyone will overheard."

They walked down the road and passed the Jokoh Joke Shop. Not surprisingly, they met Fred, George and Lee Jordan there. They passed the post office where the owls would leave regularly, and then turned into a small road. At the end of it there is a tavern. A shattered wooden sign hung on a rusty bracket above the door, with a stern boar head painted on it, and its blood dripped on the surrounding white cloth. When they approached, the sign creaked in the wind, and the three of them hesitated at the door.

"Well, come on," Hermione said nervously, and Fanlin took the lead and walked in.

This is completely different from the three broomsticks. The big bar there gives people a shiny warm and clean feeling. The Pig’s Head Bar is a small, dark and very dirty room, which smells strongly like goats. There is a thick layer of dirt on the windows of the bar, so only a little bit of sunlight can penetrate, instead, short, bare candles are lit on the rough wooden table in the room. At first glance, the floor seemed to be compacted mud, but when Harry walked up, he knew that it was actually a stone floor, which seemed to have accumulated thousands of years of dirt.

Harry remembered that Hagrid mentioned this bar in the first year: "I met a lot of interesting guys in Dutou"

Hagrid once said this to explain how he won a dragon egg from a stranger in a turban. Harry had wondered at that time. How could Hagrid not be surprised that the stranger kept covering his face, and now he found that covering his face seemed to be popular in pigs.

There was a man in the bar. His entire head was **** with a dirty gray bandage, but he was able to successfully swallow countless cups of smoking and hot things from a small opening in his mouth. Sitting at a table by the window were two people with their silhouettes hidden under their headscarves. Harry would have thought they were dementors if they were not talking in a strong Yorkshire accent. In a shadowed corner by the fireplace sat a witch, wearing a thick, black veil that fell down to her feet. They could only see the tip of her nose because it slightly protruded from the top of the veil.

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

Hermione glanced at the veiled witch. "Umbridge is shorter than her," she said calmly. "And no matter what, even if Umbridge comes, she can't stop us, Harry, because I checked the school's rules again and again. We didn't foul the rules, and I asked Professor Flitwick if he allowed students When I came to Dutou, he said yes, but he strongly recommended that we bring our own cups. And I checked all the rules about learning clubs and training groups that I can think of, which is completely allowed. I just think we should not make public What we do."

"No," Harry said dryly, "especially when it is not strictly a so-called study group, is it?"

The barman came out from inside and walked up to them quietly.

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

"What do you want?" he muttered. "Four beers, please," Harry said. The man reached under the counter, took out four very dirty and dusty bottles, and put them on the bar with a bang.

"Eight Copper Nat~www.wuxiaspot.com~ he said.

"Thanks," Harry said quickly, giving him silver coins.

The bartender's gaze scanned Harry, staying on his scar for a few seconds. Then he turned and walked away, putting Harry's money in an old wooden cabinet, and the drawer of that cabinet would automatically slide open to collect the money.

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

The man in the dirty gray bandage knocked on the counter with his knuckles, and got another smoking drink from the bartender.

But the bartender at the pig's head bar was the one that cared most about Fanlin.

It’s not the first time he has come to the Pig’s Head Bar, but the last time he came, he did not see the owner of the bar...

As if he had noticed that someone was observing, the bartender slightly raised his head and glanced at Fanlin, then squeezed an ugly smile and moved away.