I'd almost forgotten how quiet it gets on a weekday—when the school term is in full swing and the usual crowds of Hogwarts students are tucked behind castle walls.

I came here to get away. To clear my head after another long week at the Ministry.

Fat load of good that's doing me now.

The Three Broomsticks is warm and half-empty when I push through the door, the familiar creak of its hinges sending a pang of nostalgia straight through my ribs. Sirona's behind the bar, polishing a glass with a rag that's seen better days.

And the door swings open behind me.

A draft of cold air curls around my ankles.

Then, a voice I haven't heard in five years.