A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

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.

"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.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

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.

"I'm not a broker for information; I'm just a barkeeper," the old man impatiently replied.

On the other side, the two dark wizards exchanged glances.

"Should we act?" one licked their lips.

"Wait; the barkeep isn't someone to mess with. He's thrown out over a dozen troublemakers these days. Let Felix Harp leave, then we tail him and strike when we can..."

"Should we notify Gos? He's had a fair share of drinks, and Ralph and Eddie haven't returned."

"Don't startle the prey; it won't bode well," the other wizard said grimly, aware of the complications involved when dealing with someone like Felix, a skilled and notorious bounty hunter.

Unbeknownst to the two dark wizards, their conversation became the subject of attention. Felix glanced subtly toward the corner, and Aberforth followed his gaze.

...

"I'm taking three people with me," Felix continued, as if oblivious to the conversation, "including those two." His tone was as casual as someone placing an order.

Aberforth, the barkeep, stared deeply, the dirty rag hanging mid-air, growling softly, "You think I'll agree?"

"You should understand my concerns; they're all dangerous... It's my duty," Felix said.

"Oh? Aren't you the famous Professor Harp? When did you start doing auror's work?" Aberforth Dumbledore remarked sarcastically. His blue eyes mirrored his brother's, but Felix couldn't associate this color with the serene vastness of the sea, no matter how hard he tried.

His eyes were filled with tempestuous emotions, like waves ready to erupt.

Felix acknowledged the understanding; after all, the younger sibling was always more vivacious.

"On that note, I've unknowingly taken on multiple roles. Sometimes, it troubles me," Felix grinned, appearing completely unfazed, "let's talk about recent events. I currently hold the title of Ministry consultant and recently approved bounty hunter."

"Bounty hunter?" Aberforth seemed puzzled.

"Yes, like a vampire hunter, except the latter is deemed illegal, while my bounty hunter status was just granted." Felix cheerfully mentioned, waving his left hand, producing a parchment. "Need me to show you the paperwork?"

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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