The long-awaited happened: third-years were allowed into Hogsmeade, the only fully magical settlement in Britain.

In 1974, this happened even later than usual, and by the time a crowd of kids and youths, exhausted by their studies and longing for entertainment, stumbled into the village, it had already taken on the appearance of a Christmas postcard: houses with high sloping roofs and shops with bright signs got thick caps of sparkling snow, lush wreaths hung on the doors, paws of fir trees rocked enchanted candles in the playful wind.

The three boys hurried to separate themselves from the general student body, respecting Regulus' unspoken wish not to cross paths with his older brother, who, along with the rest of the marauders in full force, immediately set off for Zonko's Joke Shop, already nickering at some inside joke with abandon.

Clouds of steam were escaping from everyone's mouths, Regulus, with his hands gloved and shoved deep in robe pockets, with a grey-green scarf pulled up to his chin, turned pink in the cold, from his ears to the tip of his nose, and his face color now reminded that of crabapples, dusted with snow and frosted, hanging from leafless branches, conquered by bouncy yellow-bellied titmouses.

Evan's nose was running, and he constantly sniffing and licked his lips, which soon made them wet and red and Barty tried hard to glide on the soles of his brand-new boots of brown leather, like on ice skates, so slipped even where there was no ice and fell into snowdrifts even where there was, essentially, no snow.