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Chapter 965: The Hog\'s Head

Many people were speculating whether the scars on her face could not be removed, and she had no face to stay at Hogwarts.

If any professor encountered such a shameful thing, he might as well resign directly.

Such rumors had been going on and on, and many people swore that Umbridge had submitted a letter of resignation to Dumbledore, as if it were true.

Anyway, in such a pleasant atmosphere, the first Hogsmeade visit of this term arrived.

Everyone had been looking forward to this day for a long time. Evan and Hermione had also planned to discuss with everyone about forming an extracurricular group to conduct combat training and learn defensive skills.

Compared to dealing with Umbridge, this was a more serious matter.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy.

After breakfast, Evan, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Colin queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village.

Since Umbridge had left, Filch had become somewhat more manageable. He waved them through with a gesture.

“It’s a good feeling. The atmosphere in the whole school is much lighter without Umbridge,” said Ron. “Well, if it were possible, I hope that woman just resigns and never comes back.”

“That’s impossible!” said Hermione. “We have to be careful, she won’t just let it go, but then again, you two went a bit overboard last time. I heard she was injured quite seriously …”

“She got what she deserved!”

“Yeah, that’s right, but after all she…”

“Okay, Hermione, where are we going anyway?” Harry asked hastily, “The Three Broomsticks?”

“Oh, no!” Hermione’s attention was diverted, and she wasn’t worried about Umbridge’s revenge, which was already the topic they discussed the most recently. “No, it’s always packed and really noisy. I discussed it with Evan and I’ve told the others to meet us in the Hog’s Head, that other pub, you know the one, it’s not on the main road. I think it’s a bit … you know … dodgy … but students don’t normally go in there, so I don’t think we’ll be overheard.”

“That pub is pretty quiet. We can get a private box,” Evan said.

They walked down the main street past Zonko’s Joke Shop, where they were unsurprised to see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals.

Then they 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 five of them hesitated outside the door.

“Come on, let’s go in,” said Hermione slightly nervously.

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just… um… a bit shabby!” said Evan, leading the way inside.

In fact, the place was not a bit shabby.

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 bay 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 they stepped onto it they realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

Evan had been here a few times before, but he still couldn’t help but sniffle, unaccustomed to the strong smell of goat in the air.

Speaking of which, Dumbledore’s younger brother Aberforth really had a soft spot for goats.

“Do you remember?” said Harry in a low voice, “Hagrid once said he won a dragon egg here, which was Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback, it was our first year.”

“Yeah, he said he won it from a hooded stranger,” said Ron, swallowing nervously.

“It fits the style here, doesn’t it? I’ve always wondered why Hagrid didn’t find it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter,” Harry continued.

Now he saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Hog’s Head.

There was a man at the bar whose whole 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. If not for their strong Yorkshire accents, they could easily be mistaken for Dementors.

In a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

“I don’t know about this, Hermione,” 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 squinted, and cast an appraising eye at the veiled figure.

“Umbridge is shorter than that woman,” she said quietly. “Besides, she should be in the hospital right now. And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there’s nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I’ve double- and triple-checked the school rules. We’re not out-of-bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog’s Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. We’re not really forming an army; it’s just an extracurricular group for Evan to teach us magic. And I’ve looked up everything I can think of about study groups 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, because Fudge and the Ministry don’t want us to do it.”

“Wait a moment, haven’t you figured out who she is?” Evan whispered.

“who is she?”

“Of course it’s Mundungus!” said Evan. “This disguise looks great, doesn’t it?”

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