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HP Chapter 55: Candy and Secrets
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 14:01:17 +0000 UTCThe Honeydukes sweetshop was packed to bursting. Mr. and Mrs. Flume had no choice but to ask Fred and George to keep the students in check, only letting in a new group once the last batch had finished shopping. Even the older students who’d been to Hogsmeade many times turned up, and the two weeks of stockpiled candy vanished faster than expected. Mr. Flume kept rushing back and forth from the storeroom, hauling out crate after crate of sweets.
Ron finally squeezed out from the crowd, his face flushed and triumphant. From his bag, he pulled out a large handful of colorful candies. “Good thing I brought a bag! You guys already finished shopping? I’m trying this one, Loser Lolly!”
The wrapper was about palm-sized, square, and sparkled with the words Loser Lolly. Zigzag edges made it easy to tear. Ron ripped it open and dumped the sugar shards into his mouth, then instantly clamped a hand over it. His eyes lit up with glee. The others could clearly hear a series of tiny pops and crackles from inside his mouth.
Moments later, he opened his mouth wide and exclaimed, “Merlin’s beard, it really feels like there’s a brawl on my tongue! This is amazing!”
Anne smiled to herself. Of course it was, it was inspired by popping candy from her previous life.
“Does it hurt?” Hermione asked.
Fanny was trying hard not to laugh and tugged secretly at Anne’s robe.
“Nope! Try it, you’ll see! I bet Harry would love this one!” Ron said, already reaching for the next candy, Drifter Drop.
“Would I?” came a voice from behind Hermione, Anne, and Fanny.
They shrieked and jumped. “Harry!” they shouted, startled.
Ron’s jaw dropped. Anne leapt to the side, while Hermione gasped, “What are you doing here?! How did you even get here?!”
“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed, clearly impressed. “Did you learn to Apparate?!”
“Of course not,” Harry replied with a grin.
He glanced at the bustling shop and then led them into a quieter alley between buildings, where he explained how he’d gotten the Marauder’s Map from Fred and George.
“They never gave me the map!” Ron complained, scandalized. “I’m their brother!”
“But Harry won’t keep it forever,” Hermione interjected. “He’s going to hand it over to Professor McGonagall. Right, Harry?”
Fanny and Ron both turned to her in disbelief. “What?! You’re giving it away?”
“No, I’m not!” Harry said firmly.
Hermione frowned. “If I gave it in, I’d have to say where I got it, and Filch would find out it was Fred and George!”
“But what about Sirius Black?” Hermione argued, voice tense. “He could use one of the secret passages on the map to sneak into the castle! The professors need to know!”
“He can’t get in that way,” Harry said quickly. “There are seven secret passages on the map. Fred and George think Filch knows about four of them. Of the other three, one’s caved in, completely impassable. Another’s blocked by the Whomping Willow, and once you’re in, you can’t get out. The one I just used… well, the entrance is hard to spot, even from the cellar. Unless Black knows about it...”
Harry trailed off, clearly wondering, what if Black did know?
Just then, Fanny and Ron pointed at a poster plastered nearby on a wall:
By Order of the Ministry of Magic
Attention, Customers: As a precaution, Dementors will patrol the streets of Hogsmeade daily after sunset until further notice. This measure is for the safety of all residents and visitors. Patrols will cease once Sirius Black is apprehended. We recommend completing all purchases before dusk.
Merry Christmas!
“See?” Ron said calmly. “There are Dementors everywhere. I’d love to see how Black plans to break into a sweetshop under those conditions. And besides, Mrs. Flume lives upstairs. She’d hear anything.”
“True, but…” Hermione faltered. “Still, Harry shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t have a signed permission form! If someone finds out, he could get in so much trouble! And what if Sirius Black shows up right now?”
“He’s a fugitive, not a lunatic,” Fanny countered. “He’s not going to waltz around in daylight.”
“Exactly!” Ron agreed. “It’s the holidays. Harry deserves to enjoy himself.”
Hermione bit her lip, clearly unconvinced. She glanced helplessly at Anne.
Anne had already pulled her scarf up over her nose, tugged her hood over her head, and was stamping her feet. Only her eyes peeked out from above the scarf. She mumbled from behind it, “Are you done talking yet? Why are we standing in the wind? I’m freezing.”
“Anne, were you even listening?” Fanny asked helplessly.
A gust of cold wind blew through. Anne tightened her cloak. “Ugh... What did you say, Fanny? Never mind, you all carry on. I’m going to Three Broomsticks to wait where it’s warm.” And with that, she took off.
The remaining four stood stunned in the icy wind.
“Did she mean... it’s fine?” Harry asked uncertainly.
Hermione turned her head away in exasperation, but Ron nodded confidently. “Exactly. Now, here, have a Loser Lolly!” Fanny chimed in cheerfully, “You have to try the Crumbly Crunch Chocolate, it’s amazing!”
When Anne stepped into the Three Broomsticks, the warm air hit her like a cozy blanket, clearing her head. She already knew Harry had the Marauder’s Map, that wasn't what had her distracted.
“Madam Rosmerta, a hot butterbeer, please,” Anne said at the bar. The mug was placed before her, and she took it in both hands, sipping slowly. She was halfway through her drink when the others arrived.
“I’ll get the drinks, you grab a table!” Ron called to the rest. “Four butterbeers, Madam Rosmerta!”
Fanny settled in with a mug. Anne took her refilled butterbeer and sat directly across from Hermione. Ron squeezed in beside Harry.
“Happy holidays!” Ron said with a grin.
“Happy holidays!” the group echoed, raising their mugs and taking hearty sips.
Just then, the door burst open again. The group glanced over to see Professors McGonagall and Flitwick brushing snow from their coats as they stepped inside. Behind them were Hagrid and a tall man in a drab green bowler hat and pinstriped cloak, none other than Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.
Fanny and Ron immediately shoved Harry under the table. “Disillusionment Charm,” Hermione whispered.
The Christmas tree near them rose a few inches and slid into place directly in front of their table with a soft thud, concealing them from view.
The teachers and Fudge moved toward the bar, then turned and sat at the table right in front of the concealed group. Anne silently floated Harry’s empty chair away with a Levitation Charm. The four at the table exchanged anxious glances but remained quiet.
Rosmerta arrived with a tray of drinks, setting one before each guest before sitting down herself.
“What brings you here today, Minister?” she asked.
Fanny, Hermione, and Ron strained to hear, while Anne sipped her butterbeer, thinking, Here it comes... the past is about to be spilled.
Fudge’s voice was low. “Who else but Sirius Black, my dear? I daresay you’ve heard what happened at Hogwarts on Halloween?”
“I’ve heard rumors,” Rosmerta admitted.
“Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?” McGonagall snapped.
“Do you think Black is still nearby, Minister?” Rosmerta asked softly.
“Absolutely,” Fudge replied curtly.
“They’ve already searched my pub twice, you know,” she said, her tone sharp. “Frightened away all my customers, terrible for business, Minister.”
“My dear Rosmerta, I don’t like them either,” Fudge said uneasily. “The Dementors… they’re necessary precautions. Though you’re right, they’re furious with Dumbledore for keeping them off school grounds.”
They continued, recounting Black’s time at Hogwarts, how close he’d been to James Potter, how trusted he’d been by the Potters when Voldemort was at the height of his power... and how he had ultimately betrayed them. He’d killed Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles right there on the street.
By the time the tale was finished, so were their drinks. McGonagall stood and said, “If you’re dining with the Headmaster, Cornelius, we should head back to the castle.”
Once they left, Fanny and Hermione finally let go of their held breath. Ron crawled under the table to pull Harry back up, but Harry’s face was blank and stunned.
Anne’s mug was empty. Her wrists rested on the table, and a silver Sickel and a bronze Knut spun endlessly between her fingers.
She looked away from the Christmas tree, tucked the coins into her pocket, and stood.
“Let’s head back to the castle,” she said quietly. “Harry, the four of us will cover you.”
Harry nodded mutely. No one said another word the whole way back.
