Chapter 323: Chapter 323
The night in Hogsmeade was far livelier than Lynn had imagined.
Most of the shops along the street were still lit, with warm yellow light spilling from the windows, creating gentle halos in the night.
Wizards passed by Lynn in twos and threes; some carried bags of sweets just bought from Honeydukes, some had the latest poetry collections from Scrivenshaft’s tucked under their arms, and a few middle-aged Male Wizards, clearly just off work, walked along complaining about a new policy issued by the Ministry of Magic.
"Hog’s Head Inn."
Lynn looked up at the crooked sign and read the words on it.
"What a strange name." Lynn muttered, following Dumbledore as he pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The door hinges let out a long groan.
The moment Lynn stepped over the threshold, he felt rather unwell.
That smell... how should he put it?
It was as if someone had stuffed a soaked rag into a corner, letting it mold, ferment, and rot there, and then mixed that accumulated stench of mildew and dust of unknown years, sealing it all inside this airtight room.
Lynn subconsciously took a half-step back.
He looked down at his feet.
The dust and grime had already fused with the floorboards.
Never mind comparing it to the Three Broomsticks, even compared to the Dragon sanctuary in Romania, this place was not exactly clean.
However, it was fortunate that the cups here were at least clean, shiny, and looked as good as new.
Lynn silently gave this shop a barely passing grade in his mind.
There were not many people in the bar.
A few crooked tables were scattered around the hall, with two or three people sitting at each one.
The sound of Dumbledore pushing the door wasn’t loud, but the noise the door made was enough to startle everyone.
Lynn saw several heads turn almost simultaneously.
Those gazes first landed on Dumbledore—first in a daze, and then those gazes shifted in unison to Lynn.
Stopping at his forehead.
Lynn walked past them without changing his expression, thinking: How deeply ingrained is Harry Potter’s scar in people’s hearts? It has almost become a conditioned reflex in the Wizarding World.
Dumbledore, however, didn’t care at all.
He nodded to those who stood up, said "Good evening," and then led Lynn through the crooked tables toward a corner.
They sat down at a table against the wall.
Lynn sat down and looked around.
With his back to the wall, facing the door, and empty tables separating them on both sides, it was neither conspicuous nor did it fail to provide a full view of the entire bar’s activity.
"Principal." Lynn spoke, his tone testing, "Aren’t you on vacation? After working so hard for the Wizarding World for so long, why have you come back to Hogwarts instead of relaxing properly?"
Dumbledore was straightening a candlestick and paused at the words.
"I just happened to remember something I left in my office..." He paused, "And—do not change the subject, child."
Lynn shrugged and leaned back in his chair, looking completely unbothered.
"Fine, fine, Principal, you speak, I’m listening." He paused, "Anyway, I don’t think I did anything wrong."
He was righteous when he said this.
Dumbledore watched him for a moment, silent.
"Child." Dumbledore began, "Sometimes, power cannot solve everything."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"But power can prevent people from riding on your neck and taking a dump." He said, "Principal, can you say you have no opinion on this bullshit Educational Decree?"
Dumbledore thought that, crude as the words might be, the reasoning behind them was sound.
But this is too crude, isn’t it?
"Of course I have opinions." He said, "But perhaps, you could adopt some... gentler methods."
At this point, Dumbledore paused.
On second thought, Lynn’s current way of resolving things did indeed seem much gentler.
At least... he knows how to sign contracts now, doesn’t he?
He looked up at Lynn, who was deep in thought, and felt that his education had yielded results.
Meanwhile, Lynn’s mind was entirely on something else.
Was Dumbledore really "voluntarily" on vacation?
This was what Lynn thought, and it was what he asked.
Dumbledore was drinking Pumpkin Juice; he put down his cup and was silent for a while.
"Child." He said, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness, "Sometimes, appropriate compromise is needed to ensure that certain conflicts are not escalated."
Lynn understood.
"Is it because of the Ministry of Magic?"
"Yes." Dumbledore sighed, "Fudge and I are now almost at the point of a complete falling out."
He paused, as if recalling that argument.
"We had a huge argument. He... refused to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, no matter what."
When saying that name, Dumbledore’s voice did not change, as calm as if he were talking about dinner.
But Lynn noticed that the Male Wizard at the next table, who had been eavesdropping on them, froze the moment he heard the name, then hurriedly paid his bill with his head down and left.
Dumbledore didn’t care.
He continued: "But I must still try my best to convince him. I cannot watch people die because they are unprepared for the return of Lord Voldemort."
Lynn scratched his head.
"What if you just leave it alone?" He asked, "The Ministry of Magic is holding you back, and you still have to deal with Lord Voldemort; this is such a waste of time."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, "I will handle it as soon as possible."
Lynn fell into deep thought once again, and this time, he figured out many things.
"Pardon my bluntness, Principal."
Lynn spoke without hesitation, "Fudge only let Umbridge come to Hogwarts because he was worried that someone would threaten his position.
But it’s not like before now, especially after Barty Crouch Sr. died, there’s no one left to threaten his position.
So, if you keep dealing with Fudge in the same way as before... it’s purely a waste of effort."
"Ha～"
At this moment, the shop owner, who was walking over with two cups of Pumpkin Juice, sneered, "Such a simple matter, and the great Dumbledore still needs a child to remind him."
Dumbledore glanced at the owner, ignored him, and just looked at Lynn, "Tell me your thoughts."
Lynn withdrew his gaze.
He spoke shocking words to the old man, "Then change the Minister for Magic."
"No." Dumbledore blurted out, his voice a bit louder than before, "Suddenly changing the Minister for Magic is likely to cause unnecessary panic. This is exactly what Lord Voldemort wants to see."
He paused, as if to convince Lynn, and also as if to convince himself, "I cannot do that."
Lynn was silent.
"But you can’t have a teammate in the back who keeps causing trouble, right? You are charging in the front, and Fudge is tearing down the stage from the back, casting spells, and inciting more people to slander you. This is what Lord Voldemort wants to see."
He paused.
"I think—Principal, you should be the one to be the Minister for Magic."
"No." Dumbledore, besides shaking his head, shook it again, "Still no."
He looked up at Lynn, his gaze much more serious than before.
"I know, it must be because of today’s events that you have this idea." His voice lowered a little, "But Fudge is still the Minister for Magic, no matter what. He cannot have anything happen to him."
Lynn frowned; to be honest, he was a little angry.
"Why are you so stubborn, you old man!"
"No means no! Lynn, don’t you dare have the idea of me becoming the Minister for Magic!"
"Pedantic idiot!" The owner on the side sneered once again, "It seems you are truly old; your mind is not even as clear as a child’s."
Lynn finally turned his head to look at the owner.
He looked a lot like Dumbledore. Same high cheekbones, same long nose, same blue eyes.
But Dumbledore’s face was soft, with edges smoothed by the years, while this face—every line seemed to be carved by a knife, hard and cold.
"Sir." Lynn spoke, his tone very polite, but the meaning behind his words was not polite at all, "The Principal and I are chatting here, and you are eavesdropping on the side; isn’t that inappropriate?"
The owner looked down at him.
That gaze stayed on his face for a moment, then shifted away.
"Is it?" He asked.
This question was not asked to Lynn.
Dumbledore was silent for a moment.
"It is." He said.
Lynn: "??"
The owner nodded, as if he had known this would be the answer all along.
He took a crumpled note out of his pocket, slapped it onto the table, and then turned and walked away.
"He is my brother." Dumbledore’s voice came from across the table, "Aberforth Dumbledore."
Lynn was stunned.
He took another look at the back that had already walked away, then looked at Dumbledore in front of him, his brain spinning rapidly.
"The relationship between you two..." He carefully chose his words, "Doesn’t seem very good?"
Dumbledore did not answer.
He looked down at the note that had been slapped on the table.
"Five hundred Galleons?" Dumbledore’s voice carried disbelief, "Aberforth, this bill seems to have some issues."
Aberforth’s voice floated over from the bar, across half the pub, still as clear as if it were right in his ear:
"There is no issue at all."
He said while wiping a cup, without even lifting his head.
"Most of the Wizards present are your students. They ordered a total of twenty-one bottles of soda, twenty-two bottles of watermelon soda, eight pints of beer, and other miscellaneous things... five hundred Galleons is exactly right."
He finally looked up, across half the pub, looking at Dumbledore.
"Pay up."
Lynn looked down at the bill and silently added it up in his mind—
These things, at the Three Broomsticks, would cost at most fifty Galleons. On this Aberforth’s bill, it was ten times that.
Even more unscrupulous than Fred and George; they only double the price when selling things to Ron.
"Oh, that is very reasonable." Dumbledore said.
He took a cloth bag out of his pocket, placed it directly on the table without even looking.
The bag landed on the wooden tabletop with a heavy thud, and the gold coins inside clinked.
The bar was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"The Principal is generous!" Someone shouted from a corner.
"Praise the Principal!"
"Praise the Professor!"
Those voices came from all directions.
Dumbledore smiled and nodded in that direction.
Then he withdrew his gaze and looked at Lynn again.
"Where were we?" He thought for a moment, "Oh, right. Lynn, your idea is very inappropriate."
His tone was very gentle, "Get some rest early. I think you will figure it out."
"Principal, I still—"
Lynn’s words were cut off.
Dumbledore waved his hand, and Fawkes flew out from some corner and landed on his shoulder.
With a flash of fire, Lynn returned to the Hufflepuff Common Room.
Lynn: "..."
He looked at Fawkes, who was preparing to return, and grabbed one of its legs.
Fawkes paused mid-flap, tilted its head to look at Lynn, "What is it?"
"Help me take something to Principal Dumbledore."
Fawkes nodded.
Lynn waved his hand, and a piece of parchment and a quill flew into his hand.
Lynn waved his hand again, and a dashing paragraph appeared on the parchment—
Saying you are a stubborn old man is no exaggeration at all!
---
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