Beside the dim corridor.
Ian first ran some distance away and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, then hurried back. Pressing close to the mottled stone wall, he peered through the poorly lit door of the Owlery.
Albus Dumbledore and his brother, Aberforth Dumbledore, were still arguing fiercely.
"If you hand it over now, perhaps I can still forgive your recklessness."
"I told you, it's not with me! I don't even know what you put inside it. Aside from that letter, I didn't see anything else in there!"
"No one but you knew I had that letter... Are you so certain I won't use Legilimency on you? Or have you become such a bastard that you'd cast a Memory Charm on yourself after stealing something?"
"Damn it, Albus! You're the real bastard! I only searched your office for answers because you refused to tell me where the letter came from!"
"Aberforth, I did it for your own good. Some truths would only crush your fragile nerves right now... Give it back to me. When the time is right, I'll tell you everything."
"I didn't take anything! Give you back what, you pompous worm!"
Ian had arrived in time to witness an unbelievably spectacular show, a scene no other Young Wizard—or even professor—would likely imagine. As though he could endure it no longer, Aberforth threw a punch, and Albus Dumbledore actually answered without backing down, swinging his own fist and grappling with Aberforth.
Yes, there was no magical duel. Just a return to primitive brawling.
The sounds of fists landing rang out without end.
It was hard to imagine.
This was a scene one could watch inside Hogwarts Castle without paying.
Two old men over a hundred years old—the supposedly wise and composed Headmaster of Hogwarts and his equally ancient