Hogsmeade Conversations
After the Social, Liam felt an absence of something, an emptiness which he could not at first name. As he was lying in bed that night, staring up at the stone ceiling, it finally occurred to him. Nessa’s hairs aren’t singing for me tonight. I must still have them on my clothes. They’re not singing because she’s mad at me.
He hadn’t meant to quarrel with her at the party, but quarrel they did, and this was the consequence. Liam was still able to fall asleep, but he found that he missed their soft, happy voices, just at the edge of his hearing.
The next morning, the two were conciliatory towards one another. Vanessa set her head on Liam’s chest and Liam shot another blast of the heat spell into Vanessa. Though he didn’t think about it at the time, he was following the pattern of conflict and reconciliation that he went through with Sadie towards the end of their romantic relationship.
Sadie, however, recognized the pattern, as did Gillian and Philip. They all wondered if this was a sign that the end was near for Liam and Vanessa as a couple.
On a cold, overcast November morning, the students lined up after breakfast for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Liam and Umberto, along with Vanessa and Gordon, strolled up the line until they found Reginald Dennison’s troop. Dennison was in front, with Carter and Jones beside him. Aiden and Terrill stood behind them. Umberto stopped and stared into Dennison’s eyes.
“Mind your manners today, Dennison,” he said. “You’ll be under less supervision today, but believe me, I would like nothing less than to bust you for something. I bet you have some contraband in your possession, and I would love to uncover it in a surprise inspection.
“I have been an exemplary student this term,” said Dennison coldly. “You have no reason to keep harassing me.”
“You were lucky last time,” continued Umberto. “Maybe next time, you won’t be so lucky. Mind your manners, and there won’t be any problems.”
The two boys moved on down the line, until they came to the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys. These boys were intermixed, as they often were, with Benedict up in the front of the line with Patrick. It was Liam who spoke to these boys. “You lot better stay out of trouble today. I don’t want to interrupt my free weekend to babysit the likes of you.”
“You won’t have to babysit us!” Patrick protested. “We’re just gonna hang out. But if Dennison and them decide to have a go at us, we won’t be running to you. We’ll take care of things ourselves.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Liam. “Stay away from that troop. Don’t get caught up in any taunting or name-calling. Just avoid them.”
As Liam and Umberto moved on, Duffy called out to Benedict, “You gonna hang with us today, Bennie, or are you gonna ditch us in favour of your girlfriend?”
Flannery said, “Took’s got more girlfriends than I can keep track of. He picks up a new girl every week.”
“I do not,” said Ben, blushing. “For the record, I don’t have any official girlfriends. I just have friends who are girls. It’s not like I’ve been snogging with anyone.”
“Would you tell us if you had?” wondered Patrick aloud. “I doubt that very much. I bet, the next time Alyssa Pitchfork comes ‘round your place, you’ll do more than talk about the weather.”
“That may be,” said Ben, laughing and blushing. “But that’ll be then. Right now, she’s not talking to me at all.”
As they approached the gate where the caretaker was checking names from his list, Patrick silently pondered his brother’s words. Though he would never admit it to his friends, and especially not to his brother, what Liam had said made quite a bit of sense. They should avoid Dennison’s troop as much as possible.
So, where’s the creep likeliest to go first? The candy shop, I bet, or, to Weasley’s. He turned around to his troop and said, “Once we get into town, how about we check out the new racing brooms?” This suggestion was met with an enthusiastic cheer. If they end up there with us, at least I can say I did my best.
Between Dennison’s troop and Patrick’s, in the long queue of students, was the Little Coven, along with Belladonna and their friends from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. As soon as Bell and the other girls were through the line and on the path to Hogsmeade, Alyssa said, “I wish we could go to the dance. I’m bummed that we must wait another whole year before we’re eligible.”
“Is your brother going to the dance?” asked Meriko, pointedly, to Bell.
“Of course not,” she answered. “He and Lara are just friends. She wanted someone to talk to at the social. They didn’t dance together.”
“That doesn’t mean she won’t invite him.”
“He doesn’t think that she will.”
“We should have our own dance,” said Ava.
Alyssa seized on the idea, her eyes bright and eager. “We should! A dance just for us Third Years!”
“If we were going to regular school, we’d be able to attend dances,” said Bell.
“Are we going to invite everyone?” asked Freya, doubtfully.
“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Frey,” said Alyssa. “Of course, we’re not inviting Dennison and that lot.”
“Who would we invite?” asked Katie. “Would it be just us girls?”
“What fun would that be?” asked Alyssa. “We’d need some boys there.”
Bell: “I don’t know how we invite my brother and not end up inviting all of the Hufflepuff boys and all of the Gryffindors, too.”
Ava: “Are Patrick and Shona MacDougal still a thing?”
Meriko: “Were they ever really a thing?”
Bell: “Again, if Shona gets an invite, then that whole group of Second Years is going to want to come.”
Ava sighed. “We should just stay in and listen to music.”
The Third Year girls were not the only ones looking ahead to the Winter Ball. As the girls were conversing, Philip, Rhiannon and Pauline were walking down the main street of town. They bypassed the crowds forming near Weasley’s and the candy shop. Philip was in the lead, while the two girls walked a step behind him.
“They’re not going to want to serve me,” said Rhiannon.
“Of, course they will,” said Philip. “If for no other reason, you’ll be with me, and I’m paying.”
“This shouldn’t be a big deal,” said Pauline.
“Wizards and witches aren’t very open-minded about this kind of thing,” said Rhiannon.
“All the more reason to do it,” said Pauline, firmly.
Next to Andromeda’s boutique was another clothing store, smaller and narrower, and not as brightly lit: Geoffrey’s Mans Shoppe. “Here we are,” said Philip. He held the door open for the two girls and then followed them inside.
Magical moving mannequins posed, showing off crisp white shirts and charcoal sportscoats. There were tables of slacks in black, grey and navy, another for ties and still another for handkerchiefs. A hat stand full of fedoras caught Pauline’s eye. She plopped one on her head and checked her reflection in a nearby mirror.
The tailor was a portly man with grey hair, a kind smile and ruddy cheeks. “Master Harkenborough! So good to see you, young sir. How may I assist you?”
“Mr. Geoffrey, my friend and I would like to be sized for tuxedos for the Winter Ball, coming up in a few months.”
“Well and good sir. And who is the other gentleman?”
“That would be me,” said Rhiannon, wryly.
“Oh! I see.” Geoffrey cast a sidelong glance at Pauline.
“Don’t mind me,” said Pauline. “I have my dress for the ball, though I do love this hat.”
“This will be on my tab,” said Philip, firmly. “All of it.”
“Very good, sir,” said Geoffrey. To Rhiannon, he added delicately, “I will need to measure you.”
“Understood,” said Rhiannon.
Mr. Geoffrey led them deeper into the shop, to a wooden platform beside three mirrors. He began measuring Philip with a fabric tape, working his way from the top on down: neck, arm length, chest, waist, inseam. Rhiannon watched critically. Why doesn’t he use magic for the tape and just record the measurements? Realisation dawned on her. He’s a squib! He can’t use magic. Well, I’m asking him to accept me. I had better accept him.
It was Rhiannon’s turn. She stepped onto the platform, and he took a measurement of her neck. “Tall for a girl,” he remarked, idly. “No Adam’s apple to contend with at the collar. Benefit, I suppose.”
As discreetly as possible, he looped his tape around her chest and took another measurement. He was clearly uncomfortable with the task. Rhiannon acted bored. With another quick loop, he had measured her waist and hips. Another awkward moment followed as he collected her inseam measurement.
Geoffrey pulled out a catalogue and turned to the tuxedo section. This drew Pauline, who was keen to give input. ““I have access to the best collections in London,” he remarked. “These designs here are quite fashionable this season.”
“Oh, I agree,” said Pauline. “I like this one very much.”
“I shouldn’t have any trouble getting something in your size,” continued Geoffrey, to Philip. “Do you have a preference for your tie?”
“Black is fine,” said Philip. “I’m not trying to match anyone’s dress.”
“Very good. I’ll place the order, and you’ll be able to pick them up prior to the ball. Should you need some adjustments, we’ll do them on the spot.” He turned to Rhiannon. “I should be able to fit you into a standard coat and tie. Those you may rent. However, your shirt and slacks will need to be custom made. You’ll need to purchase them.”
“We understand,” interjected Philip. “These will be on my father’s account.” Philip followed Geoffrey’s gaze over to Pauline, who was still wearing the fedora. “Including the hat.”
“Oh, Hark!” exclaimed Pauline. “You don’t have to buy this for me.”
“It looks good on you,” he answered. “I’d like you to have it.”
Philip signed for the bill, and the three left the shop. Outside, Pauline gave Philip a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re such a doll! You will dance with us, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he said, blushing brightly.
Rhiannon wrapped her arm around him and gripped his shoulder tightly. “This means the world to me, Hark. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Is your dad going to be mad you put all this on his bill?” asked Pauline.
“I told him what I was up to. He was philosophical about it. The world is changing, whether some people like it or not.”
Stacy and Q walked hand in hand through the shops. Q bought a small box of chocolates for her parents and a chocolate cockroach for her brother. Stacy bought sugar quills for the two of them, and they ate them outside.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” asked Stacy.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” said Q.
“Do you think you’ll go back to living amongst Muggles?”
“I might. It’s 90% of the world, after all.”
“What would you do?”
“As a job? I don’t know. Dad is a psychologist. He often treats regular people who have been harmed in some way by witches or wizards. They think they’re crazy. Nobody believes them but Dad.”
“Would you want to do something like that?”
Q shrugged. “I’d love a job where I could travel. Maybe as a reporter, covering wars, riots, refugee camps. I bet magic would come in handy to get out of dangerous situations.”
“Wow! I would never do anything that ambitious. I guess that’s why I’m in Hufflepuff. I think you’re right about Muggles, though. It’s their world. We just live in a small part of it. I’d like to travel, too. Maybe to the States, or Japan, or someplace like Croatia or Sweden. Nothing too primitive or dangerous.”
“What if, during your travels, you met a Muggle girl and fell in love with her? Would you tell her who you were, what you were?”
“That I was a witch? Of course! I wouldn’t lie to her. I’d be truthful. Once she knew I wasn’t a scary witch out of a horror movie, I think we’d be fine. I’d love her to the best of my abilities.”
Dennison led his troop first to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezees. He spent a long time looking through the tables and shelves. Occasionally, he would pick up one of the gags and gadgets and examine it closely. Aiden browsed idly, but he kept his eyes and ears open.
They were perusing a display of bars of bath soap. One sang old sea shanties while another was guaranteed to slip out of the user’s hand and fly around the bathroom and then go right back into their hand. Dennison held up one of the bars and said, “It would be so easy to just stick this in my pocket and walk out of here.”
Jones laughed. Carter looked nervous. Aiden gazed coolly back at him. “I thought you were trying not to get in trouble.”
Dennison laughed. “Everything in Weasley’s has an anti-shoplifting charm on it. I tried to take some little thing out of the store one time. The thing screamed bloody murder and flew out of my pocket the second I left the store. My mum was so mad. She hates it when I embarrass her in public.”
They made their way to the door without buying anything. “Where to next?” asked Carter. “You wanna see the new racing brooms?”
Dennison let out a derisive snort. “Quidditch is the most ridiculous sport. I can’t believe how much people care about it. Sure, you can fly fast, but once we learn how to apparate, what’s the point of flying on a broom?”
“Because we can,” suggested Aiden.
“Go if you like,” said Dennison, his voice a veiled threat. “We’ll be at the candy store.”
As much as Aiden wanted to see the new brooms, he didn’t want the others scheming while he and Terrill were at Spintwiches. He followed Dennison into the candy store.
Later, they wandered aimlessly up and down the town streets. “I can’t believe I actually pined away for this place last year,” said Dennison. “This is the most boring town I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah!” said Jones, enthusiastically. Aiden glared at Jones with contempt, but he held his peace.
When it was close to noon, they went to The Three Broomsticks for lunch. As they approached the door, Patrick Wren and his gang approached from the opposite direction. Wren reached the door just ahead of Dennison. Instead of barging ahead, he opened the door and motioned for Dennison to enter. “After you,” he said.
Dennison paused, and the two boys silently stared off. With a sudden burst, Dennison darted past Wren into the restaurant. His troop followed.
Aiden was last. As he walked past the Gryffindors, he heard Patrick call out, “Mama’s boy.”
Aiden stopped abruptly and pointed at Patrick. “Watch your mouth, Wren!”
Suddenly, Morwena Felwich appeared. She moved between the two boys. “Run along, Thompson,” she said. “Wren, you need to watch your mouth.”
Patrick laughed. “We were just having a laugh, weren’t we boys? Thompson and I are old chums.”
“He didn’t take kindly to it. Taunts like that start fights. If you don’t want to spend your evenings with the Deputy Headmaster, I’d watch your tongue.”
“Hard to watch it when it’s inside my mouth,” said Patrick, and the boys laughed. Under her fearsome glare, he said, conciliatorily, “Point taken, Felwich.”
Aiden took his seat at the table across from Dennison. This placed him with his back to the door, a spot no Slytherin is comfortable in. “What did Wren say to you?” said Dennison.
“Oh, he was just mouthing off, like usual,” said Aiden. “Fortunately, Felwich was right there, and she dealt with it.”
“I don’t let women do my fighting for me,” said Dennison.
“Well, she has the badge and I don’t. She can tell him off just fine. Better them than us, right?”
After their meal, Aiden headed for the restroom. As he crossed the dining room, he noted: Q sitting at a small table with Stacy Hind; Liam Wren sitting with Vanessa Ables; the Little Coven at a large table full of Third Year girls; Patrick Wren, Ben Took and their combined troop at another large table across the room from where Dennison’s troop was seated.
As he entered the narrow hallway that led to the bathrooms, he saw his sister coming the other way. She smiled at him but said nothing. Right behind Sadie was Gillian. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her blue eyes flashed to him, and she gave him a bright smile.
As he pushed open the door, he saw that Reginald Dennison was right behind him. Dennison gave him a hard, questioning stare, and Aiden felt a thrilling chill run up his spine. He had a sudden premonition that Gillian was now one of Dennison’s targets.