Chapter 535: Aberforth - (1)
Chapter 535: Aberforth - (1)
Chapter 535: Aberforth
On the early October night, the chilling air permeated through the streets of Hogsmeade Village, casting an eerie darkness. Felix Harp strolled along the deserted roads, encountering an emptiness where even the proud aurors and enforcers were seeking warmth elsewhere, sheltered from the cold. Unless triggered by an alarm or a distress signal, they remained tucked away.
The houses and shops lining the streets were shut tight, including the Hog's Head Inn. Yet, through the narrow gaps of its tightly closed doors and windows, Felix caught a faint glow. Knocking persistently for two minutes, the door finally creaked open.
Standing at the entrance was a figure resembling Dumbledore but wearing a scowl. The tall, lean old man stood firmly in Felix's way.
"I never noticed this before," Felix murmured.
"We're closed. Come back tomorrow if you have business!" The barkeep snapped, equally bearded but with grey whiskers.
"You can't just shoo away a guest," Felix chuckled lightly, tilting his head. "Let me in; I saw two people in the corner enjoying a drink! By the way, your opening hours are pretty late."
The bar's owner and sole male attendant, Aberforth Dumbledore, stared daggers. Felix gestured towards an icy wall, yet if one passed through it, they'd confirm his claim.
"They're lodging," Aberforth stated.
Felix shrugged, not replying. After a few seconds of standoff, reluctantly, Aberforth stepped aside.
"Don't cause trouble, or I'll throw you out," he threatened in a low voice, closing the door after Felix entered.
Surveying the room, Felix found it small, reeking slightly of sheep and dimly lit by a few candles. Glancing at the only table occupied, he noticed two individuals unmasked, their faces visible in the midnight hour.
Two bottles of liquor sat on the table, the vessels grimy.
Coincidence, Felix thought. The faces matched the images he'd seen in his intel; they were two of the three targets he was seeking—a notorious group of dark wizards responsible for bloodshed across multiple countries.
As he nonchalantly approached the bar, the two wizards grew uneasy. The unexpected appearance of Felix Harp, known for his prowess, especially in the Quidditch World Cup where he single-handedly subdued over a hundred inebriated revelers, made them twitch. Even if the numbers were from a group of intoxicated troublemakers, it was an impressive feat.
Their gazes tracked Felix as he took a seat at the bar. Meanwhile, Aberforth reappeared from the bar's side door, returning to his place.
"What drink?" he gruffly asked, grabbing a rag to clean a highball glass.
"A Firewhisky—ah, never mind," Felix glanced at the dirty rag in Aberforth's hand, seemingly unchanged for centuries, reminiscent of the worn, unrecognizable stone floor. "I'm here for information," Felix said, catching the attention of the two wizards in the corner, although when he tapped the table, they couldn't eavesdrop anymore.
Aberforth's breath quickened, staring at the Ministry seal on the parchment.
"Bang!" His fist slammed the bar counter, rattling the bottles. Felix noted another difference between Aberforth and the Headmaster Dumbledore: perhaps from physical labor, his hands were rough, knuckles prominent.
"If this were twenty years ago, meeting someone like you who toys with the law, I'd have punched your nose and tossed you out—" Aberforth erupted.
"I was only four then; are you sure?" Felix smirked.
Aberforth glared, utterly fed up with the meddling kid. Unaccustomed to studying, with limited ink in his mind, and few encounters with quills and parchment after graduation, he was losing his temper.
He admitted his bias against Felix Harp, shaped by those residing in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. They were in league.
But a brilliant idea struck him—a rare occurrence in his life. He decided not to waste it. Aberforth sarcastically said, "So, are you telling me that you were this horrible at four?"
"In a way—yes, I was more mature than most kids." He smiled at the man across, "But getting off track; with all this said, I want you to understand I have legitimate reasons. Of course, I don't want things to get too tense; it might be awkward if we bump into each other at a private gathering. Your awkwardness... my sociable nature."
He referred to the Phoenix, combining the old man's name with the clientele of the Hog's Head, indicating it was another set of eyes for Dumbledore.
After a moment of silence, Aberforth sniffed, "What do you intend to do? Don't tell me it's Albus's orders."
"Of course not, it's my decision."
Exiting the scope of the charm, Felix's steps creaked the floorboards, drawing the attention of the two wizards in the corner. Eyes fixed on the wand he retrieved from his pocket, the Hog's Head Inn was left with only the crackling of the fireplace.
"Interested? Rare opportunity, don't miss it—" Felix's voice teased.
"Kid, shut your mouth!" Aberforth erupted.
The two dark wizards glanced at each other. It seemed their identities were exposed. "Attack!"
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