Snow had begun to dust the castle towers when Roy returned to Hogwarts. His brief absence had left the castle quieter than usual — or perhaps, the quiet was the aftermath of something darker.
When he entered the Great Hall, Hermione rushed up, parchment in hand and eyes full of concern.
"Roy, you missed it — Sirius Black tried to break into Gryffindor Tower! The Fat Lady's portrait is slashed to ribbons!"
Roy tilted his head, half-interested, half-curious. "Ah, so that's when he made his move. No wonder the wards felt uneasy that night."
Hermione frowned. "You knew?"
Roy only smiled faintly. "Let's just say… I expected it. Don't worry, he's not after you or Harry."
That answer didn't quite satisfy her, but Hermione knew Roy too well to press further.
A Month of Mischief and Calm
The weeks that followed were surprisingly peaceful. Roy slipped back into routine — classes, laughter, the occasional prank consultation with the Weasley twins, and the now-famous Liyue Pranks section that had become a best-seller at the Liyue Store.
Each afternoon, he could be found surrounded by the familiar circle — Hermione debating over magical theory, Daphne pretending not to enjoy Roy's teasing, Cassandra smirking with quiet amusement, Cho laughing freely, Penelope's analytical calm balancing the chaos, and Astoria often sitting close, sketching small charms on parchment.
Ginny, still too young for Hogsmeade, often watched them from across the Hall — equal parts envy and admiration glimmering in her eyes. Roy would catch her gaze sometimes and grin reassuringly.
"Next year, Ginny. I'll make it up to you," he promised one evening. She flushed crimson and nodded quickly.
First Steps into Hogsmeade
When the weekend arrived, the group's excitement was palpable. The village of Hogsmeade lay wrapped in white snow and laughter — windows glowing amber, air thick with the scent of butterbeer and chocolate.
Roy led the group through cobbled streets, showing them the small corners he'd scouted years ago — Zonko's, Honeydukes, and the Shrieking Shack hill that gleamed eerily in the distance.
Cho clung to his arm as they entered Honeydukes, eyes sparkling at the endless rows of sweets. Hermione was reading every label, Daphne and Penelope whispered over new potion-based candies, and Cassandra was sampling every odd treat she could find.
Roy just smiled — their laughter warmed even the coldest Hogsmeade air.
A Chance Encounter
Outside, Roy noticed Harry sitting on the steps near the entrance of the school, watching students leave with quiet longing. His friends were gone, and Filch had blocked his way without a permission slip.
Roy approached, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"You really want to go, don't you?"
Harry nodded, a little ashamed. "Everyone else gets to go. Feels like I'm still locked in that cupboard again."
Roy crouched down, meeting his eyes.
"Go to the twins. Tell them I sent you. They'll handle the rest."
Harry blinked. "Really? You mean it?"
Roy grinned. "I'll even pay for your first butterbeer — just don't get caught."
Moments later, Harry sprinted off toward the Weasley twins, and Roy chuckled to himself. Mischief should always have a purpose, he thought.
The Hogs Head
While the others shopped, Roy slipped away to the quieter end of Hogsmeade — to a small, shadowed tavern with a creaking signboard: The Hog's Head.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and secrecy. Aberforth Dumbledore stood behind the counter, polishing a mug and watching Roy with those sharp, weathered blue eyes.
"You don't look like one of my usual troublemakers," he said gruffly.
Roy smiled, setting down a gold coin. "Then let me trouble you with something new — your best dish. And perhaps… a little experiment in taste?"
Aberforth raised an eyebrow but said nothing, vanishing into the kitchen. Minutes later, the clatter of pans echoed. Roy followed quietly, offering a few precise tips — the angle of heat, a pinch more sage, a sprinkle of powdered thyme infused with minor rejuvenation magic.
When the plate came out, even the old bartender was impressed.
"You've got a strange hand for a student," Aberforth muttered, tasting the dish. "Not many know how to coax flavor like that."
Roy leaned back, sipping his butterbeer. "Alchemy and cuisine aren't so different. Both aim to turn the ordinary into something transcendent."
Aberforth snorted but nodded, hiding a smirk. "You sound like your grandfather."
Roy's expression didn't change — only his eyes flickered with understanding. "So you do know who I am."
"I know enough," Aberforth said. "And I know not to pry. Anyone who can make food taste this good isn't my enemy."
Roy laughed quietly and stood. "Then I'll count that as a friendship. I'll return next month, old man. Keep that flame steady."
As he left the tavern, Aberforth's gruff exterior softened for a moment. He watched the boy disappear into the falling snow, muttering under his breath:
"That lad's not just gifted… he's dangerous in the right ways."