Old Harold Laggerty had worked in Hogsmeade since the mid 2050’s and had therefore become the sort of honorary head shopkeeper for the village. Quiet and thoughtful, the type to keep to himself but whose late night conversations with his patrons had provided sagely advice and fatherly comfort to all who stepped through the Three Broomsticks door and who, in his humble opinion, cooked the meanest Shepherd’s Pie.

The weekend’s festivities provided Hops with an excuse to step out from behind the bar he so loved and mingle amongst the guests and visitors. He’d told himself it was to check whether everything was proceeding as smoothly as he hoped it was but there was an inkling of selfish intent as he desperately wanted to taste the infamous Cranachan he’d heard so much about.

With the pot of pudding in one hand and a smear of cream on his gray stubble, the proprietor strolled around the picnic area nodding to the guests politely as he passed until he reached Helga’s cup. “Oh Merlin, I’m not so adventurous these days.” he spoke out loud to whoever was nearby and listening, scratching at his chin in thought and considering whether he should give the challenge a go. He’d barely left the tavern in recent years, adventurous wasn’t exactly present in his vocabulary any more.