Chapter 465

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Dumbledore."

The furnishings in the pig head bar remained unchanged, full of dust and stains. Although Marca doesn't care about this, he still feels that it will be more comfortable to clean it at least.

Of course, he didn't come here tonight to let aberforth clean the bar.

"What are you doing here? There are enough places for you to go?" aberforth said impatiently, throwing his glass on the bar.

"Today is Christmas Eve. Everyone can have a rest. It's OK for me to have a drink, isn't it?" Marca didn't care.

"Have a drink? Hum... Is that right?"

Aberforth hummed and smiled with an unknown meaning, then quickly pulled out a long strip-shaped wine bottle from the wine rack behind him, opened the bottle cap and poured the wine into a big tie cup.

It can be seen from the rich foam that it should be some kind of beer. However, Maka saw that the liquor showed a strange grayish brown.

"Drink! I'll buy you this one today -" aberforth said, looking calmly at Marca. "I think you'll finish it, won't you? Merry Christmas!"

As he spoke, he pushed the strange bundle of beer in front of Marca, and then put on a good look.

"Oh... OK!" Maka looked at the pint of beer deeply and nodded, "if you think it's good..."

As soon as he finished, he grabbed the glass and poured a big mouthful into his mouth. In an instant, his face wrinkled.

That taste, say bitter or not, say spicy or not, is an unusual terrible taste. He thought he could bear it enough, but the taste was really hard to swallow.

But he had to take at least a sip of this wine today.

"This..." Maka swallowed it hard, and then took a breath, "what kind of wine is this?"

"Gump's old social wine," aberforth glared at him. "The brand of the broken cauldron bar is named after the first minister of magic --"

"This is the wine that rewards 100 golden galleons?" Marca said bitterly. "No wonder no one has received a bonus since the 18th century... Who can drink it?"

"There was only one person who could finish it," said aberforth faintly. "It was Gump himself."

"... luckily you didn't say it was you." Marca shook her head and said.

"Hum, will you finish it when I say it?" said aberforth coldly. "Come on! Boy, why on earth did you come to me tonight?"

Maka paused a little when she heard the speech.

To tell the truth, he doesn't look as calm as usual. From the perspective of others, he always feels some inexplicable hesitation.

Although aberforth is big and coarse and often vulgar, his mind is very delicate and has a very keen insight into other people's behavior.

Although Marca has only been here a few times, aberforth saw something wrong with him before.

"... well," Marca shrugged, "didn't you just say? Come for a drink, that's all."

Aberforth frowned and his white beard shook impatiently.

"Finish it!" he pointed to the cup in front of Maka and said decisively.

Marca looked at him, but this time she didn't say anything, but sighed gently. Then he grabbed the cup again and gulped it down his throat.

In the end, he couldn't drink any more, so he had to put a cup on the bar again.

"I'm not sure what's going on in your head, and I don't care about that," said aberforth, staring straight at Marka again. "I just want to ask you one thing - are you satisfied?"

"No, I'm not --" don't deny it! "

Marca's words were interrupted by aberforth.

"Yes, I wasn't sure just now, but from the moment you began to deny it, I had enough reason to be sure of my guess -" aberforth said impatiently, "enough? I don't have to worry about a child like you!"

"Hey, aberforth..." Maka opened her mouth, but she really didn't know what to say.

But he did not say, but aberforth went on.

"... or do you think you are also responsible for albus's death? That's why you came to me on Christmas Eve?" the old man glanced at him and said, "don't dream, it's entirely my brother's own responsibility. Your brain seeds are so good - even albus praised you here. Can't you understand?"

Marcello was silent for a while, but finally he could only gently say in a voice that only he could hear: "... No, you don't understand."

For Albus Dumbledore himself, Marca did not feel guilty.

As aberforth said, his brother's death was only his own choice, and Dumbledore did not really "die" for a real wizard.

But Dumbledore's early death is undoubtedly a change brought by Marca. Just because he doesn't feel sorry for Albus Dumbledore doesn't mean he doesn't feel sorry for anyone else.

The death of Albus Dumbledore means that the Albus Dumbledore in front of him has become a real person - he doesn't have any relatives anymore.

Maka not only failed to recover the matter, but also made it come ahead of time.

Aberforth is an old man who makes Maka feel good. Even if he is rude and unreasonable, he always doesn't have a good face for him, so does he.

The strong old wizard was very different from his brother. Every word he said was a straightforward expression of his inner feelings and never acted in a secretive way.

Therefore, from beginning to end, Marca didn't treat Professor Dumbledore as a very close person, but she was always willing to make friends with his brother.

But how can Marca tell us about "the advance of Dumbledore's death"?

He just didn't expect that aberforth not only had a good memory, but also had an unusually keen insight. He guessed his ideas so quickly.

It can only be said that tonight, Christmas Eve, he is really a little too relaxed.

"... albus's death has nothing to do with you. I'm sure of that."

Aberforth took back the cup in front of Marca, then opened him a bottle of butter beer and said casually, "he came to me before he left..."

As he spoke, he glanced at the inner room as if inadvertently. In the direction of his sight, there was a magic portrait of a girl, but it could not be seen here.

Marca knew that Professor Dumbledore came here to see his sister with his brother.

"Dumbledore... I mean, what did your brother say to you?" asked Marca.

"He didn't say anything," said aberforth unhappily. "What would he say? He was like that when he grew up and couldn't say anything... But if he didn't say it, I couldn't see it? I knew as soon as I saw him. My younger brother came back again! His mind was full of unrealistic ideas..."

"Er..." the younger brother accused his brother that it was a contradiction between the family, and Maka could only refuse to comment.

"... so I also know that no matter what he died for, it was undoubtedly his own choice." aberforth said coldly, "I don't care whether he died or not? I'm too old to see through?"

"Well..." Marca said noncommittally, "have you heard about the funeral? Will you go?"

"Hum, do you want me to go?" aberforth asked in a pointed way.

He said that Macca knew clearly that the old man had a clear mind and could hide in his heart. It was no wonder that Professor Dumbledore could rest assured that he would lurk here as an eyeliner.

To say that aberforth is also a member of the order of the Phoenix, in fact, not many people know. Especially since the reconstruction of the order of the Phoenix, it was only Kingsley and Moody's who negotiated with him.

Even Mundungus, who occasionally makes deals with him, doesn't know that the bar owner is also a member of the order of the Phoenix.

"All right!" Maka nodded clearly. "Then, some personnel scheduling matters will be left to you - I will let Kingsley explain to you, and you will be responsible with him."

"Well," said aberforth, indicating that he would cooperate.

In fact, this operation is not as convenient as before, especially on the command side. At that time, more people will be needed to adjust temporarily.

Because the situation this time is not good, it is difficult to make a series of plans in advance.

Maka heated her butter beer, then gulped it down her throat, and soon drank it all.

Since aberforth was so calm about his brother's death, it was difficult for him to care about it again. Even if you still feel guilty, you can only put it aside and stop thinking about it.

After drinking the drink, Makaha took a hot breath, stood up and went out.

"In short, be careful, this time the situation may be a little chaotic." he left such a sentence, pushed open the wooden door of the bar and left here.

Aberforth watched the door close, then cleaned up the glass, closed the door in advance and walked in towards the inner room.

Pig's head bar rarely closes early, but today is Christmas Eve and there will be no guests. Even if someone wants to go out for a drink and chat, they will go to the three brooms on the other side of Hogsmeade instead of running here.

Aberforth sat at a small table in the inner room, poured himself some wine, and looked at the picture on the wall.

"Merry Christmas, Ariana."

In the painting, the calm blonde nodded to him, and a faint invisible smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.