That's what Lily said to Jaime when she was pregnant and gave birth.

Perhaps the Gryffindor girls were like that, and never knew how to spell the word "back-off".

The three of them were fifth-year wizards with a firm attitude, like warriors.

Harry didn't say anything, just continued to prepare.

For the next few days, dueling classes were suspended, and even training for Neville stopped to warm up.

In the midst of heavy snowfall, Christmas came.

On Christmas Eve, the young wizards who stayed in school were lively and gathered in the auditorium.

Harry and the four of them were absent, sitting at Hoghead's Bar, another of Hogsmeade's pubs, which most of the young wizards were unfamiliar with.

Unlike the Three Broomsticks, which are aimed at students and have a certain status in society, the Pig's Head Bar is like the difference between Tumbledown Alley and Diagon Alley, and welcomes all wizards, whether they mix up as they want or not.

Harry had heard it from Hagrid's mouth.

Hagrid loved it, he could get what he wanted for a bargain price.

But he never came, and this was the first time.

Starting from the path next to the post office on Central Boulevard, to the intersection is this tattered little bar, even scruffier than the Leaky Cauldron Bar, the wooden sign with the name written on the door has not applied any magic, exposed to the world in the purest and most primitive posture, eroded by wind and rain, years, and broken, just like a bar.

After walking in.

Harry felt like he was back in Willen.

The bar was small and dark, the windows could not let in the light, and the stone floor was covered with a thick layer of dirt and dirt, which did not have the aroma of wine in a normal tavern, but was full of sheep's smell.

"It's like a sheepfold." Ron couldn't help but complain.

Neville nodded in agreement.

Harry didn't speak, looking at a painting hanging on the wall of the pub lobby - the only thing in the bar that was clean and protected by magic.

The painting shows a quiet and well-behaved little girl, not very old, with long brown and gold curly hair, holding a book, pale and timid.

"It's like this in all kinds of places." Sirius grabbed Ron by the shoulder and dragged him towards the bar, "Just get used to it." ”

"What's wrong with that portrait?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, "I just didn't expect to see her here." ”

"You know her?" Hermione frowned, in her memory, there was no such beautiful girl.

Harry nodded, but didn't explain.

An old man with gray hair and a gray beard looked at him at the bar, and like Dumbledore, he had blue, jewel-like eyes, the same depth.

"What do you want to drink?" When Harry and Hermione also came over, he asked slowly.

"Five glasses of butterbeer, a glass of whiskey, a glass of apple juice." Harry replied.

"No apple juice." The old man shook his head.

Harry said, "Then let's go with orange juice." ”

"There's no orange juice either." The old man shook his head again, "I'm a bar, not a place like three broomsticks where little wizards come to party. ”

Harry was calm: "Six glasses of butterbeer, one glass of whiskey." ”

The old man bent down, took out five dirty bottles from under the counter, clanged, put them on the counter, and with a flick of his wand, a relatively clean bottle flew from the other end of the counter, and collided with the three bottles of Butterbeer.

He spoke lazily and quoted the price: "One Galleon and one Sico." ”

Sirius was about to dig out his wallet.

Harry's wand touched the hat a little, and a gold and silver coin flew out and landed lightly on the counter.

"It's the same price as three brooms." Sirius reached out and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.

Harry's wand flew, whiskey fell into his hands, and another bottle of butterbeer jumped, "No, godfather, it's yours." ”

"How can there be a reason for a godfather to drink butterbeer and a godson to drink whiskey!" Sirius stared.

Harry laughed.

Neville kindly reminded him, "Professor Black, Harry is much better than you are. ”

Sirius muttered and looked at the boss dissatisfied, "Where's the cup?" ”

Harry put a little more on his hat, and five glasses flew out and placed them in front of him, and the bottles poured out of the bottle.

"Tonks, why haven't they come yet?" Sirius was full of resentment.

"I smelled Tonks here, and I didn't walk out long ago, so I guess I didn't find any trace of Greyback in the bar, so I went to look for it somewhere else, right?" Harry replied casually.

Sirius, Neville hadn't realized anything yet.

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry incredulously, then at the counter, looking at the boss who was wiping his cup with a dirty rag and getting dirtier.

"Rest assured, he's reliable." Harry waved his hand, "And we need his help tonight." ”

The boss finally couldn't help it and raised his head: "Albus told you about me?" ”

"I told you about you." Harry nodded.

The boss was stunned and hesitated to speak: "You guys? He repeated the slang that almost only the Yankees would use.

"A matter of the three of you." Harry held out three fingers.

The boss narrowed his eyes and said in a flickering tone: "The Daily Prophet often says that you are very favored by Albus, but I didn't expect to be favored to this extent. ”

"Is he shameless enough to do anything to a little wizard now?"

Harry tilted his head, raised his hand, and pointed at Hermione, "Introduction, this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger." ”

Hermione's face burned and she nodded as reservedly as she could.

"Dear Professor Dumbledore, I told me those things after I broke three ribs." With a wave of his wand, Harry flew another glass out of his hat, poured some butterbeer out of Hermione's bottle, and landed in front of the boss.

The boss unceremoniously picked up the quilt and gloated: "Only three? ”

"He's a little quicker, if he was slower, maybe he could have more." Harry took a sip of his drink.

Several others were confused.

"Harry, who is this?" Hermione tugged at his sleeve.

Harry put the glass down, "He's Headmaster Dumbledore's younger brother, Aberforth Dumbledore. ”

Several people looked at him incredulously.

Sirius squirted out like a hop shower in his mouth.

"You, you, you" Sirius' voice was a little frightened.

Aberforth waved his hand: "Don't worry, I never told Albus about you sneaking out to drink at night." ”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.

"Including you discussing looking for the dancer, and you found the elf," Aberforth continued.

Sirius's eyes became even more frightened, he grabbed the counter, stepped on the stool, flew over, and gagged him, "No, how do you remember."

Aberforth took his hand away: "I always have a good memory. ”

"I'm surprised you're here, I always thought you'd be far away from him." Harry waved his wand and the levitation charm pulled Sirius back.

"Looks like he's told you a lot of things, but he doesn't want you to see me?" Aberforth sneered, "Is it because he has concealed or embellished himself, afraid that you will reveal yourself when you see me?" ”

"No, he's scolding himself much harder than me, or Professor Snape." Harry shook his head, "I just took one of his commissions to try to resolve the conflict between your brothers, and he is very Gryffindor on this point, and every time I ask, he evades it. ”

This was commissioned a year ago.

Harry asked a few times last year, where was Aberforth? Grindelwald would be out of reach for a while, but Aberforth was free.

Dumbledore has always avoided talking about it, always using "Harry, we should care about Tom's business now, my family chores can be taken slowly, almost a hundred years have passed, not as many as these years." ”

"Should I be surprised that he still harbors such fantasies, or should I be surprised that Mr. Potter is so naïve?" Aberforth sneered.

Harry waved his hand, "We can talk about this slowly." ”

"There's a problem tonight that needs your help."

Aberforth nodded slightly.

Harry took a sip of his drink, "According to information that is not necessarily reliable, there may be a group of werewolves attacking Hogsmeade tonight. ”

"That's the Aurors' business." Aberforth shook his head.

Harry ignored him, and continued, "There's a werewolf among them, Fenrir Greyback, you should know him, he's the one responsible for turning one of my uncles into a werewolf. ”

"That little white-faced, brown-haired boy who looks like a Hufflepuff but is mischievous?" Aberforth pinpointed the counterpart from his memory, "Remus Lupin? ”

Harry nodded, "That's right. ”

"I'm working with Professor Snape, and maybe some of the materials on Fenrir Greyback will have some effect on curing mad wolfosis."

"Cure mad wolf?" Aberforth looked at him with surprise in his eyes, "What a bold idea. ”

"But with your strength, a werewolf."

Harry shook his head, "Not just one, maybe ten, maybe twenty, maybe thirty." ”

"Did you tell the Ministry of Magic?" Aberforth asked.

Harry spread his hands: "There are only two Aurors, and the new Minister of Magic is all focused on solving Azkaban's troubles. ”

Aberforth muttered and nodded, "Okay, I'll help you." ”

"But don't do anything in the bar."

"After all, it's not easy to get this layer of toning." Harry poured himself another glass of wine.

Aberforth narrowed his eyes, "Your mouth doesn't look like a Gryffindor. ”

"I'm not laughing at you." Harry raised his glass and greeted him, "I love this place. ”

Aberforth sneered, not believing a single letter in this sentence, not even the punctuation.

They talked.

The door was pushed open again, and the cold wind poured in, and two men swept in with the drifting snow, stamping their feet through the doorway.

"Harry, Sirius, when did you get here?" When they approached, Tonks, with his navy blue hair, greeted them cheerfully.

Beside her was a tall, bald, dark-skinned wizard wearing a golden earring that exuded a faint sense of magic.

(End of chapter)