The Christmas holiday has begun, and this rare leisure time has not relieved a few people.

Harry was in a state of self-reproach.

It is powerlessness against reality, which extends to the chagrin of one's own incompetence.

The days were approaching, but there was nothing they could do.

Write?

Dumbledore may not be able to receive it.

And, as Moody's said, there is also the danger of being intercepted.

Hermione wasn't too easy to comfort either.

She now chose to believe Harry's story, and now, both intellectually and emotionally, she believed that Harry was telling the truth.

But they couldn't convince Professor McGonagall.

It would be ridiculous, and it would be even worse if Snape finally found out.

It's Christmas.

The village of Hogsmeade is bustling with activity at Christmas, with a group of men in brown leather coats forming in a circle and singing solemn prayers in the white ice and snow.

Melodious and cleansing.

On a path, a wizard wearing a pointed hat rode a black bull and walked slowly through the snow, his footprints deep and shallow, deep and shallow, and left in the snow, and then quickly covered and leveled by the fluttering snowflakes.

Many students who stay in school choose to pass the time of boredom here.

Students prefer to go to the Three Broomsticks Bar, where the drinks are more suitable for the identity of the students, and there are beautiful and charming proprietresses.

As for the pig's head pub, few people went there, but some students vaguely felt that the owner there was somewhat similar to Dumbledore.

He had the same blue eyes as Dumbledore, as if he had the same power to see through people as Dumbledore.

The inside of the Pig's Head Bar is completely different from the Three Broomsticks Bar, where the large bar always feels bright, clean and warm.

The Pig's Head Bar is a small, dark, very dirty room that smells of mutton. Several bay windows were covered with a thick layer of dirt that barely let in the light, and some candles were lit on the rough wooden tables. At first glance, you would think that the ground was compacted mud, but when you step on it, you will find that the original stone floor has accumulated dirt for centuries.

The environment is too rudimentary and mixed.

If it weren't for the sight, they wouldn't have come here.

There are almost no Hogwarts students here, and it's a good place for them to discuss things that are inconvenient to talk about in school.

There was a man at the foot of the bar, his whole head wrapped in a dirty gray bandage, but still being able to pour a smoking, flame-burning thing cup after cup through a gap in the bandage in his mouth.

At a table by the window sat two hooded figures, if they weren't speaking in a thick Yorkshire accent.

In a dark corner by the fireplace sat a witch with a thick black scarf hanging down to her feet. All they could see was the tip of her nose as it lifted the mask slightly.

They could feel a kind of dark wizard's temperament that was out of place with the crowd.

Of course, it is also limited to temperament, creating a certain illusion of deterring others.

If you really duel, maybe it's just an embroidered pillow.

After all, Hogwarts is the safest place in the whole of Britain, and it is unlikely that there will be dark wizards nearby.

When Dumbledore was still at Hogwarts, he would occasionally come to this dirty pub, and his brother Aberforth was often reluctant to sell him alcohol, and even if he had, he would often charge him an amount that did not match the price, two silver saucers for a glass of butterbeer, Aberforth asked him for a few gold gallons, but Dumbledore did not care, and let him make an offer.

Maybe it's guilt and atonement.

But in reality, doesn't Aberforth feel guilty in his heart? Doesn't he have a little responsibility, doesn't he realize his own problems?

He was also afraid that if he got the truth, he would not be able to continue to hate and hate his brother with peace of mind.

But in the bottom of his heart, he was not much more tormented than Dumbledley.

As soon as the truth is not known, he is still the executioner of the third.

And even if they did, so what? Their poor sister left them forever.

The separation between life and death is the most helpless thing in this world.

Walking into the bar, the three of them randomly found a window seat and sat down.

"Have a drink? I'm in for a treat today. ”

Ron volunteered and got up from his seat.

"Three glasses of butterbeer, right?" Ron asked, and after receiving a reply, he went to order.

He leaned sideways and slowly squeezed from the crowded wooden table to the bar.

There was an old man dressed in a burlap shirt, and Ron guessed it was the owner of the bar.

The bar owner has tinsel gray hair, a long beard, and a pair of glasses, but the lenses are always dirty.

The blue eyes hidden behind the lenses are bright and sharp.

It's too similar to Dumbledore, but he's unkempt and doesn't pay much attention to it, and he still can't see it.

He was pretending to wipe a polished plate as he observed the three students.

Now he put down the plate and looked at the boy who came to the counter without concealment.

"Three glasses of butterbeer. Ron said as he was about to take the money out of his purse and hand it to the shopkeeper.

His hand froze.

"Three cups of silver for twelve silver sico, you don't have enough money" The shopkeeper glanced at the silver coin in Ron's hand, shook his head, and turned to do something else.

"The butterbeer in the other bars is two silver drinks!" Ron said with a blushing face.

He slapped the six silver coins in his hand on the table.

"Then you go to the bar you like, don't come to me, I didn't ask you to come, drink if you like, and get out if you don't. The shopkeeper said in a gruff voice, looking a little impatient.

"You're robbing. ”

"I'd love to. The shopkeeper said meaninglessly.

"Alright, Ron, stop arguing. Hermione looked at Ron as if he was about to get into a conflict with the shopkeeper.

Immediately rushed over.

"I'm sorry. She handed over the remaining six silver coins on the table.

"We don't have time to waste, we're here to get down to business. She lowered her voice and said to Ron.

"Let's go. Hermione said, and returned to her seat with Ron.

It was a long time before the waiter brought their drinks.

It's different from the butterbeer in the three-broom bar, which is yellow and bubbling and looks like an appetite.

There is a layer of foam floating on the surface that I don't know what it is, and the aroma is also lacking

Ron took a sip, then coughed sharply a few times.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "It's so unpleasant." ”

"Okay, don't say any more, we're not here for a drink today. ”

"We've been noticed by Professor McGonagall. ”

"Harry, it may not have been a wise decision for you to go to her in the first place..."

……

"What then? Shall we just watch?" said Ron, unassumingly.

"Professor McGonagall doesn't believe us right now. He continued.

"I'm going to the Ministry of Magic that day. Harry clenched his fists.

"That's too dangerous!" Hermione wanted to scream, but restrained herself and whispered.

She clutched her chest and took a few deep breaths.

"Then Professor Dumbledore's situation will only be more dangerous!" Harry said fiercely,

"As you said, Grindelwald is a dark wizard on par with Voldemort. Harry gasped.

……

Christmas is supposed to be a time of pleasure.

But they are not happy, worried about the future, and discussing what to do next.

Harry, in particular, was so disturbed by the dreams that he couldn't relax for a moment. 10