This is what Lily said to James when she was pregnant and gave birth.

Maybe all Gryffindor girls are like this, never knowing how to spell the word "retreat".

The three fifth-year wizards were determined, like warriors.

Harry said nothing, but continued with his preparations.

In the next few days, dueling classes were suspended, and even the training for Neville was limited to warm-up.

Christmas is coming in the heavy snow.

On Christmas Eve, the little wizards who stayed in school gathered in the auditorium.

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

Unlike the Three Broomsticks, which is aimed at students and has a certain status in society, the Hog's Head Inn is like the difference between Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley. It welcomes all wizards, regardless of whether they are successful or not, whether they have status or not.

Harry had heard it from Hagrid.

Hagrid liked it here because he could get what he wanted at a very low price.

But he has never been here before, this is the first time.

Starting from the path next to the post office on Central Avenue, at the intersection is this shabby little bar, even shabbier than the Leaky Cauldron. The wooden sign with the name on the door has no magic cast on it. It is exposed to the world in the purest and most original posture, eroded by wind, rain, and time, and is in a dilapidated state, just like the bar.

After walking in.

Harry felt as if he were back in Velen.

The bar was small and dark, with no light coming in through the windows. The stone floor was covered with a thick layer of dirt and mud. There was no aroma of alcohol like in ordinary pubs, but instead it was filled with the smell of sheep.

"This is like a sheep pen," Ron couldn't help but complain.

Neville nodded in agreement.

Harry said nothing, looking at a painting hanging on the wall of the bar lobby - the only clean thing in the bar, the only thing protected by magic.

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

"This kind of place is like this." Sirius held Ron's shoulders and dragged him to the bar. "You'll get used to it."

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

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

"Do you know her?" Hermione frowned. This beautiful girl had never appeared in her memory.

Harry nodded, but didn't explain.

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

"What would you like to drink, guests?" he asked slowly after Harry and Hermione came over.

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

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

Harry added: "Then please change it to orange juice."

"No orange juice either." The old man shook his head again. "This is a bar, not a place like the Three Broomsticks where little wizards gather."

Harry was calm. "Six butterbeers and one whiskey, then."

The old man bent down, took out five dirty bottles from under the counter, put them on the counter with a clang, and then waved his wand lightly, and 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 a price: "One Galleon and one Sickle."

Sirius was about to take out his wallet.

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

"The price here is the same as the Three Broomsticks." Sirius reached out and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.

Harry's wand flew, the whiskey fell into his hand, and another bottle of butterbeer popped up: "No, Godfather, this is yours."

"How can the godfather drink butterbeer and the godson drink whiskey?" Sirius' eyes widened.

Harry laughed.

Neville kindly reminded him: "Professor Black, Harry can drink much better than you."

Sirius grumbled, looking at the boss in dissatisfaction: "Where's the cup?"

Harry tapped the hat again, and five glasses flew out and were placed in front of him, and wine was poured out of the bottle automatically.

"Why haven't Tonks and the others come yet?" Sirius said in a resentful tone.

"I smelled Tonks' scent here. She had just walked out not long ago. I guess she couldn't find any trace of Greyback and the others in the bar, so she went to look somewhere else?" Harry answered casually.

Sirius and Neville haven't realized anything yet.

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry in disbelief, then looked at the boss at the counter, who was wiping the cups with a dirty rag, making them dirtier and dirtier.

"Don't worry, he's reliable." Harry waved his hand, "And we need his help tonight."

The boss couldn't help it and raised his head: "Did Albus tell you about me?"

"Yes, I talked about you." Harry nodded.

The boss was startled and said hesitantly: "You guys?" He repeated this slang that almost only Yankees would use.

"It's between the three of you." Harry held up three fingers.

The boss narrowed his eyes and spoke in an erratic tone: "The Daily Prophet often said that you were favored by Albus. I didn't expect that he favored you to this extent."

"Is he shameless enough to attack a little wizard now?"

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

Hermione's face flushed and she nodded as reservedly as possible.

"Dear Professor Dumbledore, you told me those things only after I broke three ribs." Harry waved his wand, and another cup flew out of the hat. Some butterbeer was poured from Hermione's bottle and fell in front of the boss.

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

"He reacts a little quickly. If he were slower, maybe he could have seen more." Harry took a sip of his drink.

The other people were confused.

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

Harry put the cup down. "He is Headmaster Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth Dumbledore."

Several people looked at him in disbelief.

Sirius spurted out a mouthful of beer like a shower.

"You, you, you..." Sirius' voice sounded a little horrified.

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 the time you planned to find a dancer, but ended up finding a goblin..." Aberforth continued.

Sirius's eyes became more panicked. He clung to the counter, stepped on the stool, and pounced over to cover his mouth: "No, how come you still remember..."

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

"I'm surprised you're here. I always thought you would stay away from him." Harry waved his wand and used a levitation spell to pull 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 something about himself, and was afraid that it would be exposed when you saw me?"

"No, he scolds himself much more harshly than me or Professor Snape." Harry shook his head. "I just accepted a commission from him to try to resolve the conflict between you brothers. He is very un-Gryffindor in this regard. Every time I asked him about it, he avoided it."

This was commissioned a year ago.

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

Dumbledore always avoided the question, always saying, "Harry, we should be concerned about Tom's affairs now. I can take my time with my family affairs. It has been almost a hundred years. There is no rush in the next few years."

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

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

"I have a problem tonight and I need your help."

Aberforth nodded slightly.

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

"That's a matter for the Aurors." Aberforth shook his head.

Harry ignored him and continued, "One of them is a werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. You should know him. He is the culprit who caused one of my uncles to become a werewolf."

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

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Professor Snape and I are doing some research. Perhaps some of the materials on Fenrir Greyback will be effective in curing lycanthropy."

"Cure for lycanthosis?" 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 or even thirty."

"Have the Ministry been told?" asked Aberforth.

Harry spread his hands. "Only two Aurors can come. The new Minister of Magic is fully focused on solving the problems in Azkaban."

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

"But you must not fight in the bar."

"After all, it's not easy to create this patina." Harry poured himself another glass of wine.

Aberforth narrowed his eyes. "You don't have a Gryffindor-like mouth."

"I'm not mocking you." Harry raised his glass in greeting. "I like this place."

Aberforth sneered, not believing any of the letters in the sentence, not even the punctuation marks.

While they were talking.

The door was pushed open again, and cold wind poured in. Two people were swept in with the falling snow, and they stomped their feet as they walked out of the door.

"Harry, Sirius, when did you get here?" When they came over, Tonks, with her sea-blue hair, greeted them cheerfully.

Next to her was a tall, bald, dark-skinned wizard wearing a golden earring that exuded a faint magical aura.