Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 551, Page 549: The Old Man at Pig's Head Bar
Push open the peeling wooden door.

The interior is a completely different scene from the Three Broomsticks bar.

The Three Brooms Bar has a large bar that always feels bright, clean, and warm; the Pig's Head Bar, on the other hand, is just a small, dark, and very dirty room that reeks of mutton.

Thick grime covered the bay windows, allowing almost no light to penetrate, and some candle stubs burned on the rough wooden table.

At first glance, Sheen thought the ground was compacted mud, but when he stepped on it, he discovered that the ground, which was originally paved with stones, had accumulated grime over the centuries.

"What would you like to drink?"

The bar owner looked like a grumpy old man with a lot of long gray hair and a beard.

He was tall and thin.

"Speak, what do you want?"

He asked impatiently.

Sheehan could sense that his sleep was probably not very good.

He had heavy dark circles under his eyes, and his eyelids looked droopy. He was clutching several bottles in his hand; the pale blue one was a sedative, the one with a faint purple glow was a dreamless sleeping potion, and Sheehan even saw the Daydream Charm, a gadget from Weasley & Grimm's Trick Room.

"You've been having trouble sleeping lately."

Sheen said.

"I already knew that."

The old man snorted coldly. He seemed to have sobered up a bit, so he squinted and began to examine Sheen.

What do you want?

He repeated the sentence coldly.

"Butterbeer".

Sheen said.

He subconsciously observed his surroundings and easily discovered that the wizards in the Pighead Bar seemed to really like to hide their faces.

There weren't too many people at the moment, but they were all having a few drinks, their drunken eyes peeking out from under their robes.

There was a man at the bar whose entire head was wrapped in dirty gray bandages, but he was still able to pour one glass after another of something smoking and burning through a gap in the bandages over his mouth.

He was drinking Flame Whiskey, a special beer from the wizarding world.

Two hooded figures sat at a table by the window, speaking in a thick Yorkshire accent and drinking butterbeer.

A witch sat in a dark corner by the fireplace, her face and the glass of mead hidden behind a thick gray veil.

Sold out.

The old man said.

Sheen glanced at the two wizards drinking butterbeer.

"What about Flame Whisky?"

Sheen asked.

Sold out.

The old man put away the book "Dreams and Gods" and the black cat portrait on the table.

Sheen glanced at the mummy drinking flaming whiskey, then at Aberforth.

"So, is the mead sold out too?"

The old man, who had initially appeared indifferent and concerned, now seemed to have taken a bit of interest:

"Oh, congratulations, you got it right."

Sheen sensed the intense hostility and silently stared at the old man until Aberforth turned his gaze away.

"It's always like this... the same eyes..."

The old man simply ignored Sheen and continued comparing the various potions in his hand.

"Heh...that guy's favorite student..."

He muttered something, then said in an extremely impatient tone,

"Come on... you won't find any wine here."

"Favorite student?"

Sheen repeated it in a very low voice.

The image of Principal Dumbledore's smiling face appeared in my mind.

"I think... I need to inform you..."

Sheen tried to say something.

"Let's go, let's go—" The old man suddenly stood up straight, his tone much more forceful.

"I'm busy today—"

He picked up the book "Dreams and Gods" again and began to read it carefully, a stark contrast to his rugged appearance.

Some of the drinkers didn't dare disturb the owner; they put their silver coins into the wooden money box themselves.

The drawer slid open quickly and automatically, swallowing the money inside.

The old man glanced at the young wizard out of the corner of his eye; he had already left with a frown.

"That's strange..."

The old man muttered to himself, staring at the medicine bottles, thinking about the dream he had never had again, and silently closed his eyes.

As soon as Sheen stepped out of the Pighead Bar, the cold wind immediately whipped her scarf.

He saw Aberforth drive everyone out as if they were being driven away.

Those who were kicked out seemed to have gotten used to it.

"How many days has it been?"

One of the drinkers muttered to himself.

"Who knows? How did he come to like sleeping during the day?"

The mummy-like wizard replied.

The two disappeared together into the snowstorm.

As the doors and windows closed one by one, darkness crept into Pig Head Bar.

The darkness spread from the roof all the way to the edge of the last window.

There, a soft light still shone.

As usual, Aberforth muttered to himself as he placed his hand on the windowsill.

Just as the sunlight was about to pierce his pupils, his hand, which was closing the window, suddenly paused.

"Good morning, Mr. Aberforth."

A black cat sits regally on the window.

The sunlight draped it in a veil, its small nose twitched slightly, and its green vertical pupils were elegant yet captivating.

Aberforth stood frozen in place, his breathing becoming heavier after a few seconds of pause, his long gray hair and beard trembling.

"If you don't welcome..."

The black cat pressed its paw against its tail, and anyone could hear the politeness and aloofness in its cool tone.

"Please—please come in!"

Aberforth practically growled out of it.

His throat was so constricted that he couldn't utter a single decent word.

Back at the Pighead Bar, the black cat is standing on Aberforth's shoulders.

He carefully led the black cat into the bar, while constantly examining the portrait.

Exactly the same... exactly the same...

Aberforth murmured to himself.

"Good morning... Mr. God."

He forced himself to say something; no matter what, he couldn't let this seemingly small cat in front of him leave.

"Good morning, Mr. Aberforth."

The black cat repeated the sentence.

Aberforth's forced smile froze.

“I bring her thoughts, Mr. Aberforth.”

The black cat jumped off the wooden table and examined the various types of alcohol that had "suddenly appeared."
“It is cruel to hide things from those we cherish. I tell you everything about her, her hesitation and waiting. If the wizards meet one day, they will know the loneliness that the souls had to endure for this moment of reunion. Thus, this moment is given unparalleled meaning.”

The black cat's tail curved up, and a silver bowl—the Pensieve—magically appeared from its furry tail.

Aberforth swallowed hard.

In a daze, he felt as if he were seeing her.

He quickly became very low, so low that he was reduced to dust, but he was happy in his heart, wanting to bloom from the dust.

(End of this chapter)