CHAPTER 201: CHAPTER 201

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At that precise moment, the gargoyle leapt aside.

As Aberforth stood there, momentarily stunned, a middle-aged man with hair as greasy as seaweed emerged from the headmaster’s office.

Their eyes met, and both displayed a mutual look of distaste.

Snape knew Aberforth. Over a decade ago, when he had been eavesdropping on the prophecy, Aberforth had been present. Back then, Aberforth had taken an instant dislike to the young Death Eater and promptly thrown him out.

Naturally, Aberforth also recognized this greasy-haired seaweed of a man.

To be frank, Aberforth’s impression of this informant was far from favorable. He couldn’t fathom what kind of syrup-soaked madness had possessed Albus to hire such a person as a teacher at Hogwarts. He had heard more than one student complain that this professor was blatantly biased toward Slytherin, utterly lacking the qualities of a proper educator.

But then again, if Albus could recruit someone like Gellert, hiring this former Death Eater with greasy hair wasn’t exactly surprising...

Still...

Was Hogwarts turning into a bloody den of dark wizards?

The thought soured Aberforth’s mood even further.

He shot a disgusted glance at Snape, and the two let out a perfectly synchronized "Hmph."

As if on cue, the gargoyle hopped back into place.

"Password!" the gargoyle demanded in its rigid tone.

Snape noticed the scowl on Aberforth’s face and, considering his destination was the headmaster’s office, quickly deduced that this innkeeper wasn’t here to bring Dumbledore good news.

In that case...

"Fizzing Whizzbee," Snape said coolly.

Without a backward glance, he strode away.

Aberforth watched Snape’s retreating figure for a moment, said nothing, and entered the headmaster’s office.

Inside, Dumbledore was lounging in his chair, casually popping sweets into his mouth. Fawkes, the phoenix, perched on his stand, preening his feathers with a twist of his birdish rear.

"Albus Dumbledore!"

A furious roar echoed through the room, startling Fawkes so badly that he tumbled off his perch. Fortunately, he could fly, and with a few flaps of his wings, he returned to his stand, glaring at Aberforth with an indignant little stare.

"Aberforth?"

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered with surprise as he realized who had stormed into his office. What was Aberforth doing in the headmaster’s office? More importantly, how had he gotten in?

The portraits lining the walls stirred from their slumber, rubbing their eyes to see who was causing such a commotion. It was the middle of the night—couldn’t a portrait get some sleep? Didn’t they deserve rest too?

"It’s me, Albus," Aberforth growled, stomping over to Dumbledore. He yanked a chair over, planted one foot on it, and leaned forward aggressively. "I heard you’ve gone and hired that old... that dark wizard to teach at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but no words came out. How did Aberforth know about this? That was the question burning in his mind. How could Aberforth possibly know?

"Aberforth, it’s complicated," Dumbledore began, attempting to explain the situation.

"What the hell are you thinking, Albus?" Aberforth cut him off, launching into a tirade. "I bloody well knew you’d hired that damned dark wizard! Bad enough you brought in a former Death Eater, but now you’ve gone and hired that blasted dark wizard leader? Your brain must be pickled in bloody syrup!"

"The situation is complex, as I said, Aberforth," Dumbledore sighed wearily. He turned to Fawkes. "Go, deliver a letter to Miss Grindelwald, asking her to come to the headmaster’s office. And bring Harry and Newt along."

Aberforth was about to unleash another verbal barrage when he caught a crucial detail. "What did you say?" he asked, hesitating. "Did you say... Miss Grindelwald? Not Mister? What, did that damned Grindelwald go and change his gender? Ha! I knew you two were playing some twisted game..."

"No, Aberforth," Dumbledore said, rubbing his temples. "It’s Grindelwald’s sister, the one who attended Hogwarts for a few years. Remember her? When you were young, you loved hearing Father tell stories about Harry Potter and his adventures..."

"Oh."

Aberforth paused, lost in thought. Back then, he had idolized Harry and his little group of friends. "But Miss Grindelwald... didn’t she disappear? Just like Harry Potter and his companions?" he asked, frowning.

"You’ll understand when they arrive," Dumbledore said calmly, reaching into his pocket and offering a piece of fudge. "Have some candy, Aberforth."

Aberforth gave him a look of disdain and waved it off. He wasn’t about to eat his brother’s sweets.

"Oh, did I mention I’m a major shareholder in Honeydukes now, Aberforth?" Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

"Who asked you?" Aberforth snapped.

The two brothers sat in the headmaster’s office, staring at each other in silence, neither willing to break the tension.

Just as Aberforth was starting to crack under the strain, the door swung open, and three figures entered: Veratia, Harry, and Newt.

"Headmaster," Veratia greeted Dumbledore with a nod. Her gaze shifted to the older man beside him, and she noticed a striking similarity in their piercing blue eyes. "This is... your brother?" she asked uncertainly.

"As perceptive as ever, Miss Grindelwald," Dumbledore said with a warm smile. "Yes, this is my brother, Aberforth Dumbledore."

"I see," Veratia said, nodding in realization. "So, why have you called us to the headmaster’s office, sir? Is there something important?"

Before Dumbledore could respond, a voice boomed from the wall. "Oi, Grindelwald, you little upstart! Not even a greeting for your esteemed former headmaster? And you, Potter?"

"Good evening, Headmaster Black," Veratia and Harry said in unison.

Satisfied, Headmaster Black pulled his nightcap back on and returned to his painted bed, snoring loudly.

After the greetings, everyone settled around the headmaster’s desk. Dumbledore conjured a pitcher of lemonade—light on the sugar—and poured a glass for each of them.

Newt eyed his glass suspiciously, took a tentative sip, and immediately grimaced. "Too sweet, Albus," he muttered. "I’d rather drink dishwater than this sugary lemonade."

"That’s your loss, Newt," Dumbledore said with a grin.

"Enough," Aberforth interjected coldly. "We’re not here to reminisce. Albus, you know full well how unacceptable it is to hire a dark wizard like Grindelwald as a professor!"

"He’s only an assistant, Aberforth," Dumbledore said casually.

"I say you’ve been ruined by him!" Aberforth spat, his words venomous. "That inherently evil Grindelwald—I should’ve seen through you both long ago. If I had, Ariana might still be alive!"

At the mention of "inherently evil Grindelwald," Veratia’s eyes dropped, a flicker of emotion crossing her face. But when Aberforth mentioned Ariana, she let out a quiet sigh. That incident was indeed her wretched brother’s fault, a stain on the Dumbledore family.

"What did you say, you goat-loving git?"

Gellert had appeared in the office at some point, catching Aberforth’s words as he entered. Furious, he shot back, "I bet you’re Welsh, aren’t you? That’s why you’re always mucking about with goats..."

Though Gellert didn’t look the part anymore, his voice, his style, and his barbed words instantly reminded Aberforth of the German scoundrel who had once stolen his brother’s heart.

"Crucio!"

"Protego Diabolica!"

Aberforth whipped out his wand, firing a scarlet curse straight at Gellert. But a ring of blue flames erupted around Gellert, swallowing the curse whole.

Harry glanced at Veratia in surprise, his expression asking how Gellert knew her signature spell.

"My vault includes my notes," Veratia whispered to Harry.

Gellert’s tongue was as sharp as ever. Aberforth did love goats, but only in the sense of tending to them. By calling him Welsh, Gellert was insinuating something far less innocent—a jab at a rather infamous stereotype.

Everyone knew the Welsh had a peculiar fondness for goats.

"Stop it!" Dumbledore’s voice rang out, commanding the room as he once had when mediating their fights.

"You’ve been blinded by love, Albus!" Aberforth roared. "That German has ruined you! You won’t even listen to your own brother!"

Newt kept his head down, but his expression screamed "wow" as he soaked in the drama. Gossip was one thing, but this live spectacle was far juicier.

"He’s mad because I hit the mark!" Gellert taunted, fanning the flames.

Before he could say more, a spell from his sister silenced him.

"Can we sit down and talk calmly, Gell?" Veratia asked with a tight smile. "Can you manage that?"

Gellert nodded reluctantly and slumped back into his chair.

"Aberforth," Dumbledore said, turning to his brother.

Still fuming, Aberforth reined in his anger, seeing as Miss Grindelwald had set an example.

"I want to know what’s going on," Aberforth said, glancing at Veratia. "Why are people from a century ago suddenly showing up, looking as young as ever? Is it some kind of summoning magic? If it’s possible..."

He trailed off, but everyone knew he was thinking of Ariana.

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