Unfortunately, Dumbledore declined Tonks's eager request with a gentle shake of his head.
"Leave this matter to Remus and Sirius, we have other things that need to be accomplished."
Tonks's face showed a flicker of disappointment. But she quickly recovered her usual infectious energy, straightening up with determination. "What do you need me to do, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Bring Amy along and follow Adrian and me to a place," Dumbledore's answer was concise and clear.
'It must be that person who researches Obscurials that he mentioned earlier,' Adrian thought, studying Dumbledore's subtle change in demeanor with interest.
However, this was truly rare. In this era, with all the dangers and regulations surrounding dark magical phenomena, there would actually be someone who specifically studied such dangerous, unstable entities as Obscurials. Someone willing to dedicate their life to understanding creatures that most wizards preferred to pretend didn't exist.
Adrian couldn't help but feel genuinely curious about this unknown researcher, this person brave or foolish enough to delve into such forbidden territory.
Who could it be? What kind of wizard would pursue such dangerous knowledge?
Hogsmeade Village.
The picturesque wizarding village appeared before them like a scene from a winter painting with snow-covered rooftops and smoking chimneys against a gray sky.
Perhaps because Christmas had only recently passed, leaving everyone still in a festive mood and eager to spend their gift money, even on a snowy day like this, the village remained bustling with activity. Wizards and witches of all ages crowded the streets, their colorful robes were creating bright spots of warmth against the white snow.
The cheerful sounds of conversation and laughter drifted through the cold air, mixing with the jingling of shop bells and the occasional soft pop of Apparition. Warm golden light spilled invitingly from frost-covered shop windows.
"So, our target is actually here?" Adrian couldn't help but confirm with Dumbledore, his breath misting in the cold air as he spoke. "In Hogsmeade? I was expecting somewhere more... remote."
He glanced around at the cheerful scene surrounding them—families enjoying Butterbeer together, students from Hogwarts browsing shop windows with excitement, elderly witches chatting pleasantly over their shopping baskets.
It seemed an unlikely, almost contradictory setting for someone researching such dangerous magical phenomena.
"Yes." Dumbledore's expression was somewhat subtle. "But I'm not entirely certain whether he'll welcome us."
Before Adrian could press for clarification about this cryptic and somewhat ominous comment, a small sound interrupted them.
"Achoo!"
Amy sneezed beside Tonks. Her nose had turned red from the cold, and her pale cheeks were flushed pink from the harsh wind that cut through the village streets.
Tonks immediately bent down with concern to the child's level. She touched Amy's reddened, cold face with gentle fingers, checking for signs of fever or frostbite. "Oh, you poor little thing. Your face is like ice."
Perhaps because they had spent the long night together, with Tonks sitting watch beside her bed and speaking soothingly whenever she'd woken whimpering from nightmares, Amy didn't reject or flinch from Tonks's intimate gesture as she did with most others and instead leaned closer to her.
"It's far too cold out here for someone so small and fragile," Tonks said with worry giving her wand a gentle wave. Amy's scarf immediately responded to the magic, tightening automatically around her thin neck with gentleness and beginning to emit wisps of warm, soothing vapor. "We need to find somewhere warm quickly, before she catches cold."
"You're absolutely right, Nymphadora," Dumbledore agreed readily, already beginning to walk. "The place we're going is just ahead. Not far now—just around the corner."
He led them around a corner from the post office on the main street, turning into a small, narrow alley that most visitors to Hogsmeade probably never noticed or, if they did notice it, deliberately avoided.
The atmosphere changed immediately as they left the main street behind.
They stopped before a dilapidated-looking tavern that seemed to hunker against the winter cold like a suspicious old vagrant, unwelcoming and vaguely threatening.
The wooden sign swayed in the cold wind, creaking on rusty hinges and displaying a flayed boar's head whose once-vivid colors had faded over time and harsh weather to a bleached white.
Adrian recognized this place instantly and had even visited it numerous times before during his years near Hogwarts.
The Hog's Head.
"Did you arrange to meet here?" Tonks seemed genuinely surprised. Her concerned gaze swept over several suspicious hooded figures lurking near the tavern entrance. "Isn't this somewhat inappropriate? I mean... bringing a child to a place like this."
Adrian silently agreed with her.
The Hog's Head wasn't a pleasant place by any measure or standard that decent society used. This place always reeked of aged goat's milk mixed with cheap spirits. The lighting inside was dim and murky, perfect for conducting business you didn't want witnessed by authorities or decent folks.
Moreover, it was the well-known favorite gathering spot for wizards and witches who preferred to stay well out of sight of Ministry officials, law enforcement, and polite wizarding society in general. Dark dealings and illegal transactions were commonplace within these walls, tacitly accepted as long as they remained discreet.
However, Adrian didn't actually believe Dumbledore was meeting some anonymous contact here as a neutral location for business.
Because the owner of this disreputable place was Aberforth Dumbledore, and he was almost certainly their actual destination and the mysterious Obscurial researcher Dumbledore had mentioned.
Adrian had glimpsed the man a few times during previous visits to the tavern over the years.
Adrian didn't think that ill-tempered, eternally scowling old man would get along peacefully with his famous older brother, with whom he clearly didn't have the best relationship.
"Come on," Dumbledore said, leaving several clear footprints in the snow-covered ground. "We won't use the front door."
He led them familiarly around to the side of the tavern, navigating without hesitation through a narrow alley piled messily with empty wooden barrels that reeked of old alcohol, stale beer, and other less pleasant substances.
At the end of the cluttered, trash-scattered alley stood an unremarkable wooden door.
Dumbledore was the first to push the door open without knocking or announcing their presence.
After passing through a dim corridor, they finally arrived at the main hall of the Hog's Head.
The environment here wasn't much different from Adrian's last visit.
Dim, inadequate lighting struggled to penetrate the oppressive gloom, provided reluctantly by a few smoking oil lamps that hung from the low ceiling on smudged chains. Complex unpleasant odors immediately assaulted the senses.
And there, mounted on the stained wall like some kind of trophy, hung that infamous ugly wild boar with its yellowed, cracked tusks and dusty glass eyes.
Today the tavern was even more deserted than usual.
Apart from a single customer hunched in the shadowy corner, completely concealed beneath a shabby cloak, there were no other patrons visible anywhere in the tavern.
In front of that only customer sat a tall glass of golden mead that had barely been touched. His face was completely hidden in the depths of his hood's shadow seemingly just using the warm tavern as a temporary refuge to escape the bitter wind and snow outside.
Beyond that lonely, hunched figure, there was a grimy-looking old man standing almost invisibly behind the bar, positioned so still and quiet in the shadows that he almost merged with them completely. You could easily miss his presence completely if you weren't looking carefully or didn't know to expect him.
He was bent over with both age and ingrained habit, concentrating with unnecessary, almost obsessive intensity on wiping a battered wooden tankard with a rag that looked dirtier than the tankard itself, even dirtier than his own clothes.
Only when Dumbledore deliberately and somewhat loudly tapped his knuckles against the surface of the bar counter did the old man slowly, reluctantly raise his head to acknowledge their uninvited presence.
If Adrian wasn't mistaken and he was fairly certain he wasn't, this gruff, unwelcoming figure was Aberforth Dumbledore.
Both brothers shared the same piercing, penetrating blue eyes that seemed capable of seeing straight through you to your core, reading your secrets and weighing your soul. It was the only obvious similarity between them, though.
Aberforth snorted dismissively through his nose, and swept his sharp, suspicious gaze across Adrian and the others.
"I suggest you use the main entrance like normal, paying customers," he said without any courtesy, warmth, or welcome. "The side door is strictly for deliveries and people I actually want here."
"Good morning, Aberforth," Dumbledore's voice remained gentle despite the cold reception, carrying that eternally patient tone. "I sincerely hope we haven't disturbed you too greatly today."
Aberforth muttered something barely audible under his breath.
Adrian, standing close enough with naturally sharp hearing, vaguely caught fragments of the disgruntled muttering, something like "only had one paying customer today" and "troublesome fellows always showing up uninvited when least wanted."
"Actually, there's a rather urgent matter that may require your help," Dumbledore said calmly, completely ignoring his brother's displeasure.
"I guessed as much the very moment I saw your face." Aberforth threw the dirty rag onto the bar, making it land with a wet, unpleasant slap that echoed in the quiet room and raised his head to observe.
"Why else would the great and famous Albus Dumbledore deign to visit my humble, disreputable establishment for no apparent reason?"
His tone carried an unmistakable note of mockery.
Watching this tense, uncomfortable scene unfold, Tonks carefully leaned toward Adrian's ear. "This person seems extremely difficult to deal with."
"I know," Adrian murmured back just as quietly.
Perhaps hearing their hushed conversation, Aberforth suddenly shifted his glare in their direction.
When his gaze spotted Amy holding tightly onto Tonks's hand, he paused for a moment though he showed no further reaction.
Tonks instinctively pulled her neck in and said nothing more.
Aberforth waved his hand roughly, dismissively, as if trying to dispel something unpleasant from the air around him. "Cut the pointless nonsense and get straight to the point. What do you want? Do you need me to hide something dangerous again, or gather some sensitive information?"
Just then, interrupting the tense confrontation, the stool in the corner suddenly let out a harsh, loud scraping sound as it was pushed back across the floor.
The tavern's sole customer had abruptly awakened from his doze.
The unexpected noise immediately drew everyone's attention, all heads were turning toward the corner in unison.
The unfamiliar patron had just raised his hooded head, preparing to stand and leave, when he found several pairs of eyes staring at him. One of those faces, he realized with growing horror, actually belonged to Albus Dumbledore.
He immediately jumped in alarm.
What could he say?
Time to leave. No need to linger or intrude on whatever business was occurring.
He scrambled to his feet in a clumsy fluster, his chair was nearly tipping over back. He hastily fumbled several Sickles from his pocket and threw them onto the sticky table, didn't even dare to look up a second time or make eye contact with anyone, wrapped his robes tightly around himself like armor, and practically fled from the tavern.
The door slammed behind him with a bang.
Clearly, he had something to hide and wanted no part of whatever was happening here.
But Adrian and the others paid him no further mind and calmly withdrew their attention, dismissing the nervous stranger from their thoughts.
"Tsk." Aberforth looked at the door still swinging slightly on its hinges and clicked his tongue in sharp dissatisfaction, then turned to glare accusingly at Dumbledore's party.
"Looks like you've successfully disturbed and frightened away my only paying customer of the day. I think he would've ordered at least two more glasses of goat's milk if you hadn't burst in. That's lost revenue."
Adrian privately thought no one in their right mind would come to order goat's milk in this place.
"Well then, let's discuss the real business at hand," Dumbledore said smoothly, as if he hadn't heard his brother's complaint at all. He beckoned to Tonks with one hand.
Understanding his meaning, Tonks gently took Amy's hand and brought her forward to stand beside the bar counter.
Amy seemed somewhat intimidated and frightened by Aberforth's rough, appearance and sullen expression. She shrank back, trying to hide herself behind Tonks.
Aberforth's sharp gaze lingered on Amy for a moment. Then he slowly raised his eyes to look at Dumbledore, his face openly questioning, clearly waiting for the explanation that would inevitably follow.
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