"Harry, wake up! We're gonna leave in fifteen minutes."

Harry peeled his eyes open and saw Ron shaking him awake. He was wearing the maroon wool sweater his mum had made him for Christmas, which clashed horribly with his red hair. Then Harry remembered: today was the first Saturday of the month, which meant a Hogsmeade trip for Third Years and up. But Harry was still so exhausted, he thought about closing his bed curtains, along with the rest of the world, to get more sleep. But he knew Ron and Hermione couldn't be left alone for more than ten minutes without bickering, so he grabbed his glasses from his nightside table and dragged himself out of bed.


As Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down the snow covered path with the other students to Hogsmeade, the wind nipped at their ears and froze their noses. Harry wrapped his gold and scarlet scarf around his neck even tighter, and he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts... again.

He knew Voldemort was able to hijack his mind and manipulate it to something as his own. But why did the dream seem something of a warning? For Draco? As if they echoed his thoughts, Harry heard Ron mention Draco's name.

"I heard Malfoy had to leave Hogwarts late last night, something about a 'family crisis'." said Ron, sounding unconvinced that a "family crisis" was the actual reason for Malfoy's disappearence. "I bet the little git just had to go cry to his mum about getting detention or something. Are you okay, Harry?" Ron asked as they reached Hogsmeade and entered the Three Broomsticks. He and Hermione looked at him curiously, for Harry hadn't said a word the whole walk there.

"Huh?" Harry mumbled, escaping from his thoughts of Draco. "Oh, just a bit tired, thats a-a-all." he finished with a yawn. After the three found a small table near the brick fireplace in the back of the pub, Harry volunteered to get the butterbeers, mainly because he felt uncomfortable with the suspicious glances Hermione and Ron continued to send his way.

As he stepped up to the counter at the front of the bar, he heard Madam Rosmerta scream from the kitchen, "AHH! You bloody mutt! Get OUT!" followed by a lot of schuffling and bangs of pot and pans hitting the floor. Intrigued, Harry crained his neck to look through crack of the slightly ajar kitchen door. Very quickly he saw a glimpse of something large and black zoom past the kitchen door, chased by a running Rosmerta with a broom (but not the Quidditch kind).

"What the...?"

The thing had moved too quickly for Harry to get a good glance at it. The whole establishment had become silent and turned their heads as Rosmerta emerged from the swinging door, out of breath. "What can, I get, you?" she asked Harry, exasperated, and ignoring the stares she received from her costomers whilst fixing her tangled hair.

"Umm, three butterbeers please." Harry requested politely. He knew he shouldn't ask, but his curiousity got the better of him. "Madam Rosmerta..." he began tentavily as she filled the three mugs. "What was that thing in the kitchen?" Madam Rosmerta sighed, looked up to check that no one could overhear, and said quietly "Just a pest, you know. A dog. Or maybe a small wolf." Quickly, she added sweetly, "But don't worry, love. Madam Rosmerta will have the kitchen just as clean as it was before." she gave him a small smile and handed him the butterbeers, on the house.