Spring had arrived, and the weather in the Scottish Highlands was at its most unpredictable.
The shower in Hogsmeade had only just stopped, and shallow puddles still lay in the gaps between the slightly uneven flagstones.
Pedestrians did their best to avoid stepping in those spots, lest muddy water splash all over their trouser legs.
Dumbledore was one of those pedestrians, but he took long strides and paid no attention to the gaps in the flagstones. With every step he took, he easily sent muddy water splashing up.
Yet the muddy water seemed to have a life of its own. It did not splash onto his trouser legs, but scattered outward, silently returning to the cracks.
This time, he did not take the detour to the back door of the Hog's Head, but pushed straight through the front door.
A gust of cold wind swept into the Hog's Head as the door opened, immediately drawing Aberforth Dumbledore's attention.
Aberforth Dumbledore had a rag in one hand and a glass in the other, and was casually wiping an already cloudy glass with that filthy rag, as if his current job was to ensure the glass would never be clean.
Feeling the cold wind hit him in the face, he looked up and found that the customer was actually Dumbledore. He could not help raising an eyebrow, and the movement of his hands paused. "Why is it you?"
He put down the rag and glass in his hands, and Dumbledore had already walked up to the bar.
Seeing Dumbledore sizing up the pomegranate juice on the bar, he immediately reached out and pulled the barrel of pomegranate juice over. Moving as fast as an animal guarding its food, he hid the pomegranate juice beneath the bar in one swift motion.
"What are