Things dwindled down with the last call. Nothing happened. Well, when the smelly hound dog tried to pull the timing excuse over on him again, the barman put his foot down. Or, rather, he tossed the dirty rag at the drunk. Aberforth put up with a lot from these fools, but this time Fletcher had taken took things for granted. Hr He didn’t have to like these people. Hell, he wasn’t there to act as a counsellor; if they wanted sted a sympathetic ear, they could head over to St. Mungo’s to be someone else’s problem. That role never suited him because he just didn’t give a damn. He made no secret of it.

Chairs rose off of the dusty floors and slid onto the tabletops. He took out his wand waved it lazily, setting everything else in motion. The mop buckets zoomed out of the cupboard and landed by the tap, which filled them with water between washing out the glasses. After filling up with a soapy solution, the bucket and the mop danced on the floors. He only bothered with a proper cleaning once a month. The way Aberforth saw it, if this place bothered his patrons, they could head over to somewhere else. - Rosmerta cleaned her place religiously. Of course, when the drunks got this spill, they stared back with shocked expressions and showed up again within three nights. The regulars showed up rain or shine, which kept Galleons in the till, so he hadn’t changed the atmosphere of the pub for years.

He threw the dusty rag on the counter when someone knocked on the door. “Closed!”

This line never worked. The door opened and his brother came strolling in. Aberforth chewed back a response. The man always smiled, and he found it rather annoying. Albus used this to his advantage, too. Well, he paid for the drinks. This gave him an excuse to escape from the school; he might be the brilliant headmaster, but he needed a breath of fresh air once in a while too. After he locked the double bolt , and strode up to the counter, Aberforth noticed the cat in his arms. It had nestled itself in his cloak and was making a midnight snack out of the ends of it. Its leg had been bandaged by a quick spell.

“What do you want?” Aberforth took a glass from underneath the bar and slammed it on the counter. He turned his attention back to wiping down the surfaces.”What are you doing with that?”

“He got his leg caught in a crate,” said Albus. He walked behind the counter and through the doorway. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“I don’t know,” Aberforth muttered to himself as he gave up on his work. He tossed random leftovers on a tray and called up to him as he started up the rickety staircase. “I don’t want that!”

Too late. Albus had already pulled off his travelling cloak and draped it over the threadbare rug. It was a thin creature with white and black stripes; the kitten flipped onto its back and laced the thick fabric through its right claw. Albus lit the candles with one fell sweep of his wand and sat down. Aberforth set the tray on the table and sat opposite his brother. His eyes passed over his sister’s portrait. Aberforth helped himself to a corned beef sandwich while he waited for Albus to divulge his brilliant plan.

Albus poured two glasses of mead. “Have you seen him?”

“Who?” Aberforth hated when he asked open-ended question. He thought it over for a moment and comprehension dawned on him. “Oh. No, he hasn’t been here for a while. He seemed a little touchy after an interview. His friends still come round, though, so it’s not a total loss.”

Albus smiled. “What makes you say that?”

Aberforth leaned forward and took his drink. “He tipped well.”

Albus didn’t say anything. He sat back for a while, lost in his private thoughts. Most people thought this man was a genius. As brilliant as he was, he locked himself up when the pieces didn’t fit together. He jumped over hoops like anyone else; nobody saw it behind closed doors. He probably had trouble sleeping at night because he tasted the solution on the tip of his tongue. Things got worse every day, and people died left, right and centre. He couldn’t work with the Ministry; the government lay in ruins. Albus never was one to sit on the sidelines while others called the shots.

“I’m going to stall him,” Albus said, taking a sip of wine. “What say you?”

Aberfoth burst out laughing and drained his glass. There was no humour in Albus’s eyes. Aberforth looked over his shoulder, although he knew nobody was there. “Oh, Merlin. You’re serious.”

Albus got to his feet and walked over to prod the feeble fire. He stared at the painting. “The longer we wait, the worse it gets, and when it spirals out of control, we’ll lose everything.”

“You can’t do this by yourself,” Aberforth pointed out. He put the glass on the table and rubbed his hands together, brushing off the crumbs. Mr. Brilliant overlooked the small parts when he got all focused on the big picture. Aberforth didn’t point this out. He held his tongue and fished round for a logical argument. He got nothing and shook his head. “Nobody will buy this half-baked scheme.”

“Alastor, Elphias, Edgar,” Albus disagreed, counting off names. “Benjy, Minerva, the Longbottoms, Lily Evans, James Potter ...”

“Potter? What are you doing? Holding recruitment at that damn school? They have no idea what they’re getting into.” Aberforth spun round and the cat gave a low hiss. He jabbed a finger at the door and overrode his brother’s excuses. He truly believed Albus would not extend an invitation to students before they left school, but this scheme moved along a little too fast. “What are you going to tell those children, who would follow you to hell and back, the first time they see a body? You remember that?”

The moment the words spilled out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. They both turned their heads and looked at the portrait of the blonde girl. They got along well over the years, patched a few things up, yet neither of them said her name. They didn’t talk about their family, especially not Ariana, because it all came rushing back. Aberforth sank back into the chair and stared at his brother’s back. He never finished school himself, for after their sister passed, there was no point. Life as they knew it changed the night Percival landed in prison. It was a wake-up call, but it paled next to the harsh reality.

Albus ran his fingers along the mantelpiece . “I believe they understand the risks, yes.”

Aberforth didn’t say anything when he avoided the question. A typical politician’s move, Albus chose to pick and choose with his fancy wording. Aberforth didn’t think much of his crowd, if Albus’s sampled minds could indeed to be a crowd, for he had his hand in just about anything these days. Granted, the two of them had lived for a while. As far as he knew, everything was fine, and neither of them planned to kick the bucket any time soon. Of course, Aberforth didn’t side with the Death Eaters. How bad could this get? Well, Aberborth felt his chances of getting that one right was slim. He hated Divination anyway and stayed as far away from fortune tellersseers as possible. Strange folks entered the Hog’s Head. He wasn’t exactly deaf to their conversations, yet he knew from experience putting all his eggs in one basket called for a scrambled mess.

Most of these people sounded like the top of the crop. Mad-Eye, who Aberforth actually liked very much, was one of the best Aurors in the field. The same compliment extended to the Longbottoms, of course. Edgar Bones was a useful informant for the Magical Law Enforcement. Whoever else Albus had up his sleeve, and there had to be others, they had to be very respectable folks. Aberforth reckoned Hagrid would follow by the mere suggestion of ‘Dumbledore’, and a half-giant had its obvious uses. Potter’s crew usually hung round the Three Broomsticks, but he suspected they were a talented bunch with a lot to learn, and were eager to help any Anti-You-Know-Who Movement. So, it all made sense. Aberforth couldn’t figure out where he fit into the picture.

“Why me?” He asked the question like a confused child. Realising this, he pressed on with what he hoped was a proper, albeit impromptu, defence. “You want a drunk, coerced confession out of ‘em?”

Albus turned round and looked him in the eye.

“You’re my brother,” he said simply. “You have the upper hand here, really.”

“You mean I’ll call you out when you sound like an idiot,” said Aberforth gruffly.

“I haven’t asked anyone yet,” said Albus, reaching into his robes and handing over a slip of parchment. He had jotted down the names that he had reeled off a few minutes ago.

“Hmmm.” Aberforth hadn’t expected that answer. He stroked his grey wiry beard as patron faces swam through his head. “Have you run this by those two weird ones? One’s quiet and the other laughs a lot. I forget their names. They drink Firewhisky, you know, the ginger-headed ones?”

“Oh, yes, Gideon and FabianIsn't ,” said Albus, nodding.

“Isn’t one of ‘em married to the daughter of the French alchemist?”

“Jacqueline’s daughter, Annette, yes.”

“I always liked her,” said Aberforth. “She didn’t take any of those cock and bull stories from you and Flamel. She gave you that damn bird, though, so I guess that means something. What about Benjy Fenwick?”

“I was going to ask him through Minerva,” said Albus, thinking all of this through carefully. He couldn’t enlist his school, even if he wanted to, because some of them honoured different affiliations. People spoke out against You-Know-Who, yet it was barely above a whisper. He smiled when Aberforth scratched the cat behind its ears. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Well, you’re getting a new cloak,” said Aberforth, showing him the long tear. He handed him the parchment slip and walked downstairs, returning a moment later with a cold bottle of goat’s milk. He tipped it into bowl and slid it underneath the table. He pulled a face as he knelt down on the floor beside it. “It can stay the night. Maybe it’ll fix my mice problem; they keep sneaking into my pantry and cupboard. I’ll kick it out when it gets back on its feet because I’m not dealing with free room and board.”

“Of course.” Albus checked his pocket watch. “Well, thank you for the drink and the suggestions. I need to answer a few inquires for governors and parents before turning in.”

“Better you than me,” said Aberforth. Slowly, Albus took cautious steps and clamoured up the fireplace. He steadied his weight as Ariana’s tiny form reached out and took his hand. The portrait door opened and revealed a familiar dark tunnel. “I’d burn them or feed them to the goats. Albus?”

He stopped at when they reached the stone staircase. Both he and Ariana turned their heads. It was a small gesture: he always walked back with their little sister. “Yes?”

“You’re doing the right thing here,” he said with a nod. “It’s like he said before he left that night. Never take things sitting down because the risks are worth more on the table. I’m in.”

Albus understood his words. He didn’t say a word. He looked down at Ariana and squeezed her hand. It was a strange sight, for this brother and sister looked like a grandfather and granddaughter walking home after a day out. She smiled at him and he answered her with the same gesture. Aberforth watched them disappear. Whatever happened from this point on, it was set in motion before they took the first step.