Harry Potter’s Natural Villain Chapter 339: Pig Head Bar

The Christmas holiday has begun. This rare leisure time did not let a few people breathe a sigh of relief.

Harry was in a mood of self-blame.

That is the inability to do anything about reality, which extends to the chagrin of incompetence to oneself.

Days are approaching, but they can't help it.

Write a letter?

Dumbledore may not be able to receive it.

And as Moody said, there is a danger of being intercepted.

Hermione is also not very good to comfort.

She also chooses to believe Harry's statement now. By now, whether it is rational or emotional, she believes that Harry's statement is the truth.

But they couldn't convince Professor McGonagall.

That was ridiculous, and if Snape knew it in the end, it would be even worse.

Christmas is here.

The village of Hogsmeade is very lively at Christmas. A group of men in brown leather coats formed a circle among the white ice and snow, singing solemn prayers.

melodious and exhausting.

On a small road, a wizard wearing a pointed top hat rides a black cow slowly, walking slowly in the snow, with his footprints deep and shallow, one deep and one shallow, staying in the snow, and then It was quickly covered and flattened by snow flakes.

Many students who stay in school choose to spend their boring time here.

Students prefer to go to the Three Broomsticks Bar, where the drinks are more suitable for the identity of the students, and there are beautiful and charming bosses.

As for the pig's head bar, few people go there, but some students vaguely think that the boss there is a bit similar to Dumbledore.

He has the same blue eyes as Dumbledore, as if he has the power to see through people like Dumbledore.

The Pig Head Bar is completely different from the Three Broomsticks Bar. The large bar in the latter always makes people feel bright, clean and warm.

Pig Head Bar has only a small, dark, very dirty room, exuding a strong smell of sheep mutton. There were thick dirt on the bay windows, and light could barely penetrate, and some candle heads were lit on the rough wooden table. At first glance, I would only think that the ground was compacted mud, but when I stepped on it, I discovered that the ground that was originally paved with stones had accumulated dirt for centuries.

The environment here is too crude and mixed.

If it weren't for avoiding sight, they wouldn't be here.

There are almost no Hogwarts students here, so it is suitable for them to discuss some things that are not convenient to talk about in school.

There is a person at the foot of the bar, his entire head wrapped in a dirty gray bandage, but he can still pull a smoking, burning thing from a bandage gap in his mouth cup by cup. Pour in.

Two hooded figures are sitting at a table by the window, if they are not talking in a strong Yorkshire accent.

In a dark corner by the fireplace sits a witch, with a thick black scarf hanging down to her feet. They could only see the tip of her nose, because it raised the mask slightly.

They can feel the temperament of a dark wizard that is incompatible with the crowd.

Of course, it is limited to temperament, creating a certain illusion that deter others.

It's really a duel, maybe it's just embroidered pillows.

After all, Hogwarts is the safest place in the entire UK, and it is unlikely that a dark wizard will appear nearby.

When Dumbledore was still at Hogwarts, he occasionally came to this dirty bar. His brother Aberforth was often reluctant to sell him alcohol, and even if he had one, he often accepted him. Aberforth wanted to charge him a few gold gallons for an amount that was not in line with the price, two silver scotch cups of butter beer, but Dumbledore didn't care and let him make the price.

Perhaps it is guilt and atonement.

But actually, doesn't Aberforth feel guilty in his heart? Doesn't he have any responsibility? Isn't he aware of his own problems?

He was also scared, and when he got the truth on his own, he couldn't continue to hate and hate his brother with peace of mind.

But in the bottom of my heart, he suffered no more than Dumbledore.

One day the truth is unknown, he is still the one-third of the executioner.

Even if you know, what? Their poor sister also left them forever.

The separation of life and death is the most helpless thing in this world.

Walking into the bar, the three randomly found a window seat and sat down.

"Will you have something to drink? I have a treat today."

Ron volunteered and got up from his seat.

"Three cups of Butterbeer, right?" Ron asked, and after receiving the reply, he went to order.

He leaned on his side and slowly squeezed from the crowded wooden table to the bar.

There was an old man in a coarse linen shirt, and Ron guessed that it was the owner of the bar.

The owner of the bar has gray wire-like hair, a long beard, and a pair of glasses, but the lenses are always dirty.

The blue eyes hidden behind the lenses are bright and sharp.

It's too similar to Dumbledore, except that he is not sharp, not paying attention, and still can't see it.

He was just pretending to wipe a plate that had been wiped brightly, while observing the three students.

Now he put the plate down, and unabashedly looked at the boy who came to the counter.

"Three cups of butter beers." Ron said as he was about to pay from his purse and handed it to the shopkeeper.

His hand froze.

"Twelve silvers for three cups, you don't have enough money." The shopkeeper glanced at the silver coin in Ron's hand, shook his head, and turned to do something else.

"The butterbeers in other bars are two silver scotch!" Ron flushed and said angrily.

Pat the six silver coins in his hand on the table.

"Then you go to the bar you like, don't come to me, I didn't ask you to come, drink if you like, or get out if you don't drink." The owner said gruffly, looking a little bit already Impatient.

"You are a robbery."

"I'm happy." The shopkeeper said meaninglessly.

"Okay, Ron, stop arguing." Hermione looked at Ron as if he was about to clashed with the shopkeeper.

I rushed over immediately.

"Sorry." She handed the remaining six silver coins on the table.

"We have no time to waste, we are here to do business." She lowered her voice and said to Ron.

"Let's go." Hermione said, and then returned to their seats with Ron.

After a while, the waiter brought their drink.

It's different from Butterbeer, which is yellow and bubbling in the Three Broomsticks, and looks like an appetite.

The surface is gray and floating with a layer of foam that I don’t know what it is, and the fragrance is also lacking.

Ron took a sip, then coughed sharply.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "It's terrible."

"Okay, stop talking, we are not here for a drink today."

"We have been noticed by Professor McGonagall."

"Harry, it may not be a wise decision for you to find her the first time..."

……

"What should we do then? Are we just watching?" Ron said irritably.

"Professor McGonagall doesn't believe us now~IndoMTL.com~he went on to say.

"I'm going to the Ministry of Magic that day." Harry clenched his fists.

"That's too dangerous!" Hermione wanted to scream, but restrained herself again and said in a low voice.

She clutched her chest and took a few deep breaths.

"Professor Dumbledore's situation will only be more dangerous!" Harry said fiercely,

"You also said that Grindelwald is a dark wizard who is no less inferior to Voldemort." Harry gasped.

……

Christmas should be a day of pleasure.

But they were not happy, worried about the future, discussing the next countermeasures.

Especially Harry, the dream that appeared in his head was so frustrating that he couldn't relax for a moment. 10