Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

That's what Lily told James when she was pregnant and giving birth.

Maybe that's how Gryffindor girls are, never knowing how to spell "retreat".

The three little wizards in the fifth grade had a firm attitude, like soldiers.

Harry didn't say anything, just went on with his preparations.

In the next few days, the dueling class was suspended, and even the training for Neville stopped at the level of warm-up.

In the snow, Christmas came.

On Christmas Eve, the little wizards staying at school gathered in the auditorium busily.

Harry and the four of them were absent, sitting in the Hog's Head, another pub in Hogsmeade, which was unfamiliar to most young wizards.

Unlike the Three Broomsticks, which are geared towards students and have a certain status in society, the Pig’s Head Bar is like the difference between Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley. It welcomes all wizards here, regardless of their status or status. no status.

Harry had heard it from Hagrid.

Hagrid liked it here, and he could get what he wanted for cheap.

But he never came, this is the first time.

Starting from the small path next to the post office on Central Avenue, to the intersection is this dilapidated little bar, which is even more sloppy than the Leaky Cauldron. The wooden sign with the name on the door does not apply any magic. The posture is exposed to the world, eroded by wind, rain, and time, and it is dilapidated, just like a bar.

After walking in.

Harry had a feeling of being back at Waylon.

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. It didn't have the smell of wine in ordinary taverns, but it was full of sheep smell.

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

Neville nodded in agreement.

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

In the painting is a quiet and well-behaved little girl, not very old, with brown blonde curly long hair, holding a book, pale and timid.

"It's like this in this kind of place." Sirius pressed Ron's shoulder and dragged him to the bar. "Just get used to it."

"What happened to 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, this beautiful girl never appeared.

Harry nodded, but didn't explain.

An old man with gray hair and a gray beard at the bar looked at him. Like Dumbledore, he had a pair of blue, jewel-like eyes, equally deep.

"What would you like to drink?" He asked slowly when Harry and Hermione also came over.

"Five butterbeers, one whiskey, and one apple cider," Harry answered him.

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

Harry added, "Orange juice, please."

"There's no orange juice either." The old man shook his head again, "This is a bar, not a place where little wizards go to party like the Three Broomsticks."

Harry was calm: "Then six butterbeers and a glass of whiskey."

The old man bent down, took out five dirty bottles from under the counter, put them on the counter with a bang, and flicked his wand again, a clean bottle flew from the other end of the counter, along with the three bottles of butter. Beer bumped together.

He lazily opened his mouth and quoted the price: "One Galleon and one Sickle."

Sirius was about to reach for his wallet.

Harry tapped his wand on the hat, and a gold and silver coin flew out, landing lightly on the counter.

"The price here is actually the same as the three broomsticks." Sirius reached out and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.

With a flick of Harry's wand, the whiskey fell into his hands, and another bottle of butterbeer sprang up: "No, Godfather, this is yours."

"How can godfather drink butter beer and teach son drink whiskey!" Sirius stared round.

Harry laughed.

Neville kindly reminded him: "Professor Black, Harry's drinking capacity is much better than yours."

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

Harry clicked on the hat again, and five glasses flew out, placed in front of him, and the bottles poured out the wine automatically.

"Why don't Tonks come here?" Sirius was full of resentment.

"I smelled Tonks' scent here, and it wasn't long before I walked out. I guess they didn't find any traces of Greyback and the others in the bar, should I look elsewhere?" Harry replied casually.

Sirius and Neville haven't realized anything yet.

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry in disbelief, and then at the boss on the counter, who was just wiping the glass with a dirty rag to make it dirtier and dirtier.

"Don't worry, 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 startled, and hesitantly said: "You?" He repeated this slang that almost only Yankees can use.

"It's about the three of you." Harry held out three fingers.

The boss narrowed his eyes, and his tone was erratic: "It is often said in the Daily Prophet that you are favored by Albus, but I didn't expect to be favored to this extent."

"Now he is shameless enough to attack the little wizard?"

Harry turned his head, raised his hand, and pointed at Hermione: "Let me introduce, this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger."

Hermione, blushing hot, nodded as reservedly as possible.

"Dear Professor Dumbledore, you told me those things after I broke three ribs." Harry waved his wand, another glass flew out from the hat, and poured it out from the Hermione bottle. Some butterbeer, down to the boss.

The boss picked up the quilt unceremoniously, and smiled gloatingly: "Only three?"

"He reacted a little fast, if he slowed down, maybe he could have more." Harry took a sip of his drink.

Several other people are very confused.

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

Harry put the glass down: "He is the younger brother of Headmaster Dumbledore, Aberforth Dumbledore."

Several people looked at him in disbelief.

A mouthful of beer sprayed from Sirius' 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 when you discussed finding a dancer, but found a goblin," Aberforth continued.

Sirius' eyes became more frightened, he grabbed the counter, stepped on the stool, flew over, and gagged his mouth: "No, why do you still remember?"

Aberforth pushed his hand away: "I have always had a good memory."

"I'm surprised you're here, I always thought you'd stay away from him." Harry swung his wand, and the Levitating Charm pulled Sirius back.

"It seems that he told you a lot of things, but he didn't want you to see me?" Aberforth sneered, "Is it because he concealed or beautified himself, afraid that you would reveal it when you saw me?"

"No, he scolded himself a lot more than me or Professor Snape." Harry shook his head, "I just took one of his commissions to try to resolve the conflicts between you brothers. No Gryffindor, he's evasive every time I ask."

This was commissioned a year ago.

Harry had asked several times last year, where was Aberforth? Grindelwald would be hard to reach for a while, but Aberforth was free.

Dumbledore has always avoided talking about it, always using "Harry, we should care about Tom's affairs now, I can take my time with family chores, almost a hundred years have passed, there is no rush for these few years."

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

Harry waved his hand: "We can talk about this matter slowly."

"I'm in trouble tonight and I need your help."

Aberforth nodded slightly.

Harry took a sip of his drink, "According to unreliable news, a group of werewolves might attack Hogsmeade tonight."

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

Harry ignored him, and went on: "There was a werewolf among them, Fenrir Greyback, you should know him, he was responsible for turning one of my uncles into a werewolf."

"That little boy with white face and brown hair who looks like Hufflepuff but is very mischievous?" Aberforth accurately picked out the corresponding person from his memory, "Remus Lupine?"

Harry nodded: "That's right."

"Professor Snape and I are researching, maybe some materials on Fenrir Greyback will have a certain effect on curing wolf disease."

"Cure lusomy?" Aberforth looked at him with surprise in his eyes. "What a bold idea."

"But with your strength, a werewolf."

Harry shook his head: "More than one, maybe only ten, maybe twenty, maybe even thirty."

"Have you told the Ministry?" asked Aberforth.

Harry spread his hands: "Only two Aurors can come, and the new Minister of Magic will devote all his energy to solving the troubles in Azkaban."

Aberforth grumbled and nodded: "Okay, I'll help you."

"But you mustn't do it in the bar."

"It's not easy to get that patina off, after all." Harry poured himself another glass of wine.

Aberforth narrowed his eyes: "Your mouth doesn't look like Gryffindor."

"I'm not kidding you." Harry saluted him with a toast, "I like this place."

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

While they were talking.

The door was pushed open again, and the cold wind poured in. The two people were swept in together with the drifting snow, and came stomping from the door.

"Harry, Sirius, when did you guys come?" Tonks, with his sea-blue hair, greeted them cheerfully when they came over.

Beside her, is a tall, bald, dark-skinned wizard, wearing a golden earring that exudes a faint magical atmosphere.