Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Forming the "Study Group"

They walked won the main street past Zonko's Joke shop, where they were unsurprised to see Fred, George, Lee, Charlotte, and Sienna, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture upon it of a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All four of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervous. Harry led the way inside.

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy, and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bar windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy, though as Estella stepped on it, she realized there was stone what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

She knew from her father that keeping your face hidden was something of fashion in the Hog's head. There was a man at the bar whose head was wrapped in dirty gray bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows, both with very strong Yorkshire accents; in a shadowed corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the top of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

"I don't know about this," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

Hermione cast an appraising eye at the veiled figure.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," Estella said quietly. "I tripled checked school rules; even if Umbridge does come in here, there's nothing she can do to stop us."

"Yes, we're not out-of-bounds; we specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised us strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think about study and homework groups, and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No," said Harry dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barman sidled toward them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

"What?" he grunted.

"Three butterbeers and a pumpkin juice, please," said Hermione.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

"Six Sickles," he said.

"I'll get them," said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes traveled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. The four of them retreated to the farthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around, while the man in the dirty bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.

"You know what?" Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here; I bet that bloke would sell us anything; he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try firewhisky-"