Dreams Are Falling Short

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 compressed earth, though as I stepped on to it I realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

I remembered Hagrid mentioning this pub in our first year: “Yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head,” he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon’s egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time I had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter; now I 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 grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his though; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; I might have thought them Dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that feel to her toes. We 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 we crossed to the bar. He was looking at the heavily veiled witch. “Has it occurred to you that Umbridge might be under that?”

“Umbridge is shorter than that woman,” I said quietly.

“And anyway,” Hermione said, “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 advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. 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.”

“No,” I said drily, “especially as it’s not exactly a homework group you’re planning, is it?”

The barman sidled towards us out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin.

“What?” he grunted.

“Four Butterbeers, please,” said Hermione.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up four 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 travelled over Harry, resting for a fraction of 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. We retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey 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 Firewisky –“

“You – are – a – prefect,” snarled Hermione.

“Oh,” said Ron, the smile fading from his face. “Yeah...”

“Tried it – it’s alright,” I murmured to Ron before taking a swig of my Butterbeer.

“What – when?” Ron said.

“A couple of months ago,” I said, keeping my voice down so Hermione wouldn’t hear (I knew she’d have my head if she found out). “Twins,” I said in answer to Ron’s questioning look.

“Blimey, Corey,” he said, his face growing red with anger. “Ever since you got with Fred you’re throwing everything out the window. Umbridge’s office, Firewisky and – and Merlin knows what else –“
“Oh, like you wouldn’t have had the Firewisky if you’d had the chance,” I stated. I paused a moment, before taking a deep breath. “And besides, we’re not actually going out.”

“So you’re just going around shagging?” Ron said heatedly. “I don’t see how that makes it any better –“

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Ron!” Hermione cut in. “She was never shagging him – it was a joke - a prank – you think you’d be quicker to believe it with the pair of brothers that you have.”

Silence fell between us and we all sipped from our dusty bottles. After minutes of Ron staring at me and me staring back apologetically, Harry broke the silence.

“So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?” he asked.

“Just a couple of people,” Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. “I told them to be here about now and I’m sure they all know where it is – oh, look, this might be them now.”

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then Lune Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name I didn’t know; three Ravenclaw boys I was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom I recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred, George and Lee, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko’s merchandise.

“A couple of people?” said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. “A couple of people?”

“Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,” said Hermione happily. “Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?”

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

“Hi,” said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, “could we have... twenty-five Butterbeers, please?”

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

“Cheers,” said Fred, handing them out. “Cough up, everyone, I haven’t got enough gold for all of these...”

I watched as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins.

“What have you been telling people?” Harry said in a low voice. “What are they expecting?”

“I told you, they just want to hear what you’ve got to say,” said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, “you don’t have to do anything yet, I’ll speak to the first.”

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron, Hermione and I, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eyes was upon Harry.

“Er,” said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual our of nerves. “Well – er – hi. Well... erm... well, you know why you’re here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea – I mean” (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) “I had the idea – that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts – and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish Umbridge is doing with us –“ (Hermione’s voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) “- because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts –“ (“Hear, hear,” said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) “ – Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.”

-

After a lot of talking, arguing and organising – we all signed a slip on paper saying we were all going to keep quiet, and had the knowledge that we would have to try and find a place to meet.

“Well, time’s ticking on,” said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. “George, Lee, Corey and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase; we’ll be seeing you all later.”

I left with the three of them and after buying our ‘items of sensitive nature’, we found ourselves sitting on the ground on the hill outside of Hogsmeade, overlooking the small village. We had a bottle of Firewisky, which one of the boys had managed to get from a shop – since they were of age. We had sat around together in some of the secret passages at Hogwarts earlier this year with bottles, but it was never to get drunk.

“I told Ron and Harry today,” I said to mainly Fred, after taking a swig of the burning liquid and passing the bottle on.

Fred tightened his arm around me, and I looked over my shoulder at him. He wore a wide-eyed look of semi-panic. He asked how Ron took it and I gave a small chuckle.

“How do you think he took it?” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Fred kissed the top of my head, and I placed my head back on his shoulder. Lee and George where looking at us with confused stares. “I suppose we have to tell these two now, don’t we?”

“Tell who what?” Lee said, gripping the Firewisky bottle in his hands.

“That we weren’t actually going out the whole time and that we never actually did anything in Umbridge’s office and that it was all just a prank to welcome that awful, foul toad to the school,” I said in one breath.

Quietness hung between us, just like it had in the Hog’s Head. Lee and George gave us blank looks for a moment, before George said – with a somewhat pained expression – “Wait, you lied to me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, George,” Fred said, and I gripped his hand in mine. It hadn’t really occurred to me that Fred and George never lied to each other and that I’d been the reason why Fred had lied to George. I felt an ache in my chest and I made a mental note that I would make it up to the pair of them one day.

“Wait, so you never actually got laid?” Lee asked Fred, and we all laughed.