The Hog's Head Inn; a peculiar name.
If such a name existed in the Muggle world, it might seem impressive, but in the wizarding world, it felt undeniably odd.
Wouldn't something like the Dragon's Head Inn or the Troll's Head Inn sound better?
But such concerns were better left to students. For a professor of his age, such thoughts were far too childish. One of the pains of adulthood was the inability to unabashedly express all those silly desires.
Childish adults and real children were always popular, but as for those stuck in the middle…
Walking through the long corridor, Adams led the way, guiding William and the others around Hogsmeade. Initially, William had thought his bizarre attire would attract attention. However, as they made their way through the final stretch of their journey, nearly everyone they encountered was similarly dressed in odd outfits. The occasional person in normal attire looked glaringly out of place instead.
Turning onto a narrow path, Adams didn't even need to introduce the place; William immediately knew they'd arrived.
A tattered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket above the door, depicting a severed hog's head. It bore no name, yet this image alone was enough for the establishment to be called the Hog's Head Inn.
"This is it?" William voiced his obvious doubt.
During his time staying at the Leaky Cauldron, a question had frequently crossed his mind. Was there any place in this world smaller and dingier than the Leaky Cauldron?
Since the upstairs accommodations had been tolerable and he didn't want to risk upsetting Tom, William had never resolved this question.
But today, he finally had his answer.
The building was as narrow as could be, as dark as could be. Although it had two floors, from a distance, it would undoubtedly look like a one-and-a-half-story structure with a cramped attic.
From the outside, William couldn't even find a single window.
Was this a bar or a dive?
Yet Adams laughed instead. "Alright, everyone thinks this way the first time they visit. But after coming here a few more times, you'll see! It's a great spot."
With some light pulling and dragging, William was brought inside.
The interior decorations didn't bring him any surprises; cramped, dirty, and dimly lit, with a peculiar smell lingering in the air.
The entire bar hadn't been magically expanded, nor did it boast any elaborate decor. It was the worst kind of tavern even by Muggle standards, let alone in the wizarding world.
Is this it?
William was thoroughly disappointed with the highly recommended Hog's Head Inn. If his colleague hadn't been the one to bring him here, he might have suspected he'd fallen victim to a scam.
"Alright, you take William to sit first; I'll go grab the drinks." Adams gave instructions to Singed, who seemed unusually spirited even without a drink.
What was even more surprising, Singed; who typically enjoyed arguing, didn't even make a gesture of protest and obediently led William to a secluded table.
Before long, Adams returned with a collection of unopened bottles.
"This place is great in every way, except the glasses. I'm pretty sure the rag the owner uses dates back to Merlin's era."
Following his remark, William glanced toward the bar.
The owner was indeed holding a filthy rag, absentmindedly wiping a glass. Judging by the state of the rag, it might actually end up cleaner than the glass after a little more use.
When William turned back, Adams had already pulled out his own cup and filled it.
A cup of smoking, flaming liquor.
The other two had eagerly gulped down their drinks. William carefully removed the bandages on his hand and took a cautious sip. It wasn't as strong as he had imagined.
Feeling reassured, he downed half the glass. Meanwhile, the two at the table had already started their second rounds.
"Ah, that's the taste!"
Adams raised his cup and, under William's astonished gaze, drank it all in one go. Then, he grabbed his third glass and began wandering around the bar.
William gave up on drinking altogether and instead focused on watching Adams' movements.
First, Adams toasted with another man who was also wrapped in bandages. After a shared drink, Adams swiped a bottle from the man's table and moved on to the next group. When the next person waved him off, Adams didn't hesitate and jumped to another table.
"Is his alcohol tolerance that bad?" William asked.
"No," replied Singed, taking small sips of his drink. His tone was unusually relaxed. "He's just blowing off steam. He'll calm down once he makes a full round."
"Alright, Professor William, I'd like to enjoy my drink quietly for a while. Wait until Adams comes back; he'll explain everything. He's more talkative now than ever."
Seeing that William seemed inclined to ask more questions, Singed rested one hand on the table, clearly signaling his disinterest in further conversation.
Left with no choice, William quietly sipped his drink and watched as Adams stumbled around the room like a headless fly.
Adams wandered, drinking as he went, and his steps soon grew unsteady. Eventually, he interrupted a pair who were having a quiet conversation. The two shot Adams annoyed looks, and for a moment, William thought they might get physical. But before he could stand, they simply waved Adams off like swatting away a fly.
***
When Adams finally made his way back to their table, the half of his face not hidden by his hood was already flushed red.
"The Hog's Head Inn is the best—William, have a drink with me!"
"Alright."
William drained what little was left in his cup and poured himself a drink from the bottle Adams had mysteriously acquired. As he did, he discreetly touched the Bezoar tucked in his inner coat pocket; a universal antidote in potion-making. Good, it's still there.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
Adams collapsed onto the table, tilting his head to look at William.
"Hey, William, isn't the Hog's Head Inn great? Nowhere else feels as comfortable as this. Let me tell you, no one here cares who you are. Most people come to trade things, but there are plenty like me who just want a drink."
"Being a professor is exhausting. You have to keep a stern face for the students; Otherwise, those little brats might burn a hole in the roof with their spells. And when you want to chat with someone, what are your options? Your former professors? Your professors' professors? Your former headmaster? What, am I supposed to chat with students?"
"Singed over there? He doesn't like talking much. But when he's here, no one recognizes him. He can sit quietly in a corner all afternoon. Don't let his silence fool you; he loves this place!"
Is that so?
William glanced over, finding the alchemy professor completely ignoring them, seemingly content with his solitude.
Adams didn't care about William's reaction and continued rambling about the challenges of being a professor at Hogwarts. Clearly, he just wanted to talk, not particularly caring if anyone was listening. William finally understood what Singed had meant earlier.
Having grasped the situation, William began observing his surroundings with more focus.
He had to admit, as Adams said, this place had its charm. The freedom to disguise oneself allowed everyone here to let loose. William also spotted three people trading counterfeit goods. Apparently, this place also served as a hub for Hogwarts' black market activities.
Interesting. This establishment... But what's the owner's background? How does the school turn a blind eye to the illegal dealings here?
Why am I overthinking this? I came here to relax, not to… Wait, what the—
Before William could finish his internal grumbling, he tried to dodge but was a step too slow. Adams had already vomited.
...
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