Hearing Aberforth Dumbledore's words, Albus Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes.
Though the surprise lasted only an instant, it was enough to make Aberforth Dumbledore smile. "Well? Didn't expect that, did you?"
"I truly didn't," Albus Dumbledore admitted readily. "Where did they find that information?"
Aberforth Dumbledore did not want to keep him in suspense. "A book called Introduction to Muggle Swordsmanship. The author was Godric Gryffindor..."
"Introduction to Muggle Swordsmanship?" Albus Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps only Wizet could find such an assortment of obscure books."
He seemed to have thought of something else. Looking at the parchment draft clutched in Aberforth Dumbledore's hand, he kept circling his thumb back and forth.
"Aberforth, I suddenly find myself curious... What did Wizet say to make you think he was researching war magic? Could you tell me?"
"It was nothing much..." Aberforth Dumbledore recalled that morning's meeting and slowly recounted the entire proceedings.
Albus Dumbledore nodded as he listened, a faint smile on his face. He showed heartfelt delight at the growth Fred and George, Neville and Hannah had achieved.
When Aberforth Dumbledore reached the part where Wizet had offered his own solution regarding "magical broadcasts," Albus Dumbledore's expression grew increasingly serious. Clearly, he did not want to miss a single detail.
"That was more or less it..." Aberforth Dumbledore cleared his throat. "After that, they left."
"I see. Thank you for your hard work..." Albus Dumbledore tapped his desk, and a tea set appeared. "Have some tea to soothe your throat!"
"I happen to know..." Aberforth Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "that those thousand-odd barrels of mead aren't a rumor. They really exist."
"I thought you might want a cup of tea." Albus Dumbledore set down the teapot. "Then how about a hot mead? With some cinnamon