HP • Legilimency | 𝐍. 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭

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The morning of the visit to Hogsmeade dawned clear but windy. After breakfast, they lined up before McGonagall and Filch, who were checking their names on the long list of students permitted by parents or guardians to visit the village.

When it was Astria's turn, Minerva narrowed her eyes, studying her intensely. Both teacher and student raised their noses simultaneously. "How's your hand? Poppy said it would leave a mark," McGonagall commented, taking her time examining the list, although her name was clearly at the top.

She didn't respond, continued with her nose up, looking at her grandmother in defiance, to which Minerva responded with a sad sigh before allowing Astria to pass.

With one more sidelong glance at the older witch, she descended the stone staircase and stepped out into the cold, sunny day. "You haven't talked yet?" Harry asked, as he, Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Astria walked determinedly down the road toward the gates.

"No, and I don't intend to. She had fourteen years to do that," Astria replied dryly.
The five crossed the imposing stone pillars adorned with winged boars, turning left and following the road that would lead them to the village. The wind blew strongly, making their hair flutter in front of their eyes.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Astria asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh... no," Hermione replied. "No, it's always crowded and too noisy there. I told the others to meet us at the Hog's Head, the other pub, you know, off the main road. I think it's a bit... you know... suspicious... but students generally don't go there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

They walked down the main street, passing Zonko's Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to find Fred and George.

They passed the post office, from which owls flew out at regular intervals, and turned onto a side slope, at the top of which was a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung over the door on a rusty bracket, depicting the severed head of a boar dripping blood onto the white cloth that enveloped it.

The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. The five hesitated at the door.
"All right. Let's go in," Astria said, leading the way. It was nothing like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave the impression of warmth and gleaming cleanliness. The Hog's Head consisted of a poorly furnished and very dirty small room, with a strong, perhaps goat-like smell.

The curved windows were so encrusted with soot that very little sunlight could penetrate the room, lit with stubs of candles placed on rough wooden tables. The floor, at first glance, seemed to be packed earth, but when Astria stepped on it, she could feel the stone beneath what she concluded was a centuries-old layer of accumulated dirt.

There was a man at the bar with his head entirely wrapped in dirty gray bandages, although he still managed to swallow countless glasses of a hot, steaming substance through a gap where his mouth used to be; two hooded figures sat at a table by a window; Astria would have thought they were Dementors if they weren't talking with a strong Yorkshire accent. And in a dark corner by the fireplace, an enigmatic woman sat, her face partly hidden by a thick, black veil that only partially covered her dragon-hide clothing.

Her gestures were elegant, and her posture denoted natural distinction. From where Astria stood, only her hands with perfect red-painted nails were visible.

"What kind of dive is this?" Astria scoffed as they crossed the room to the bar. She looked especially at the witch with the heavy veil hiding further in the corner. For some reason, the woman seemed incredibly familiar to her.

The bartender emerged from a room in the back and approached them. He was an old, grumpy-looking man with thick, gray hair and beard.

"What?!" he grumbled rudely.