“What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?”

“What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?” demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. “Surely you ought to be checking what

we bring back IN?”

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full

of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Harry wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they

finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with

a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

“Thank God,” shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. “Let's stay here all afternoon.”

“Harry, m'boy!” said a booming voice from behind them.

“Oh no,” muttered Harry. The three of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching

a large bag of crystalized pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

“Harry, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!” said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. “It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Miss

Granger loves them, don't you?”

“Yes,” said Hermione helplessly, “they're really —”

“So why don't you come along, Harry?” demanded Slughorn.

“Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor,” said Harry, who had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a little, violet ribbon-adorned

invitation. This strategy meant that Ron was not left out, and they usually had a laugh with Ginny, imagining Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.

“Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all the hard work!” said Slughorn. “But a little recreation never hurt any body. Now, how about Monday

night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather....”

“I can't, Professor, I've got — er—an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening.”

“Unlucky again!” cried Slughorn dramatically. “Ah, well... you can't evade me forever, Harry!”

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

“I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one,” said Hermione, shaking her head. “They're not that bad, you know... they're even quite fun sometimes...” But

then she caught sight of Ron's expression. “Oh, look—they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills—those would last hours!”

Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, Harry showed much more interest in the new extra-large Sugar Quills than he would normally have done, but Ron continued to

look moody and merely shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next.

“Let's go to the Three Broomsticks,” said Harry. “It'll be warm.”