Aberforth's Fury

Inside the Hog's Head Inn.

"The Deathly Hallows were bestowed by Death; that's a legend. I believe those three items were likely created by the Peverell brothers. All three were very powerful wizards, and the legend is only partly inspired by their realities."

Dumbledore paused, glanced at Lucien who was eating porridge, and continued, "Like the Sorcerer's Stone. Perhaps hundreds or thousands of years from now, people might believe that it was a gift from some god to Nicolas Flamel. Even in the magical world, people like to imbue anything too miraculous with a mythical aura."

Lucien nodded thoughtfully; that explanation did indeed make sense.

The real names of the Peverell brothers have been buried by the dust of history, leaving only the legendary tales of their "deathly" fate.

"By the way," Dumbledore's gaze fell on Lucien, a hint of inquiry in his eyes, "Lucien, when you saw the Resurrection Stone, didn't you hear anything?"

Lucien shook his head.

He recalled the situation—the black gem, its cold surface, silent, devoid of any call.

Lucien looked at the ring; it was just a perfectly normal ring.

Dumbledore a moment, and a rough guess formed in his mind: perhaps the Resurrection Stone was more tempting to those who had regrets, while children and teenagers who had not experienced life and death or did not feel it deeply were more able to resist the temptation.

"Voldemort may not have realized it was the Resurrection Stone," Dumbledore said somewhat uncertainly, "Which is why he rashly turned it into Horcrux?"

He couldn't understand Voldemort's behavior. If he knew that the gem on the ring was the legendary Resurrection Stone, and that after collecting the other two Deathly Hallows, he might become the master of death and truly conquer it, then logically, Voldemort's desire for immortality should have led him to keep the Resurrection Stone and try to obtain the remaining Elder Wand and Invisibility Cloak...

Lucien nodded. "Maybe."

However, Voldemort had a penchant for turning precious things into Horcrux.

Of the relics of the four Founders of Hogwarts, only the Sword of Gryffindor escaped destruction; the other three were found by Voldemort and turned into Horcrux.

For Voldemort, it seems that the more precious an object is, the more worthy it is to house a part of his soul.

Lucien still leaned towards Dumbledore's guess that Voldemort truly didn't know the gem on the ring was the Resurrection Stone.

That ring is a family heirloom of the Gaunt family and a symbol of Pure-blood.

For Voldemort, turning it into Horcrux was tantamount to binding his proudest wizarding bloodline with immortality.

Behind the counter, Aberforth listened silently.

He didn't stop wiping the wine glass, but when he heard the words "Deathly Hallows" and "Resurrection Stone," his hand paused almost imperceptibly.

He couldn't help but glance at their seats, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Dumbledore and Lucien, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

Albus did that bastard Albus take this young man to do?

Resurrection Stone? Deathly Hallows?

Wizards this age should be in school... no, it's summer vacation now, they should be eating, drinking, and having fun, not running around with an old man.

And then there's "saved Dumbledore's life"... There are very few people in this world who could threaten Dumbledore's life.

Aberforth squinted at Lucien's profile. Oh, he hadn't noticed before, but that face that looked so charming to girls, and those unusual dark green eyes...

One by one, the stories resurfaced in Aberforth's memory:

The youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class; an explorer at the pinnacle of Transfiguration; the designer of the fastest Flying Broomstick; the inventor of Instant Whisper; the reformer of wizard communication...

Tsk, his little shabby tavern can't possibly hold that many people.

A wizard who truly deserves the title of "famous at a young age".

Albus was able to get some talented young people to "voluntarily" do things for him.

This kind of manipulative rhetoric that tries to sway others is truly disgusting.

"Aberforth," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, "could I go upstairs and take a look—"

However, before he could finish speaking, a dirty rag flew over and landed squarely on his face.

Aberforth remained in his throwing stance, a fire burning in his eyes that had been suppressed for many years.

"Get out!"

Aberforth's voice was low and deep, as if squeezed from the deepest part of his throat.

How dare you bring that up!

The words had barely left his mouth when the sound of shattering glass rang out.

Aberforth's wine glass had already been smashed, shattering where Dumbledore had just been sitting, shards of glass flying everywhere.

Dumbledore sprang up before the wine glass even Accio, his movements surprisingly fast for his age, and simultaneously beckoned to Lucien:

"Run!"

He rushed out of the Hog's Head Inn in a disheveled state, the wooden door behind him slammed shut, and the pig head sign on the door shook violently for a few moments before slowly returning to normal.

Dumbledore stood on the stone path outside the door, smoothing his wind-blown beard, and looked at Lucien with a hint of apology:

"I'm so sorry, you haven't eaten yet--"

He was halfway through his sentence when he noticed that Lucien was still holding the plate, walking out while scooping up the paste and putting it into his mouth, looking as serious as if he were doing something important.

As Lucien chewed, he glanced at the tightly closed bar door, as if watching to see Aberforth would come after him to kill him.

To be honest, this paste looks rather unappetizing, but it tastes really good, with a variety of flavors and a good sense of depth.

He finished the last bite, manipulated the plate and spoon to fly into the restaurant window, then patted off non-existent crumbs from his hands and nodded to Dumbledore:

"Shall we go?"

Dumbledore, seeing him take advantage of the situation and then clean up the mess, smiled and led him towards the village entrance.

Dumbledore intention was to bring the Resurrection Stone to Ariana's portrait, hoping, with a sliver of expectation, that it might have some effect.

But it was clear that Aberforth was consumed by years of pent-up anger and resentment and wouldn't listen to his demands at all.

Lucien suddenly spoke up, "Headmaster, could I keep the Resurrection Stone?"

Dumbledore paused slightly and turned to look at him.

"I'd like to examine this Horcrux," Lucien said calmly, "And see if there's a way to extract the soul fragments without damaging the artifact itself. After all, it's Deathly Hallows; wouldn't it be a shame to destroy it?"

Dumbledore looked at him, and something flickered in his blue eyes.

"Can."

Lucien had thought he would have to do a lot of persuasion, but he didn't expect the agreement to be so readily accepted.

"The Resurrection Stone is too tempting for me," Dumbledore said frankly. "Even if you hadn't mentioned it, I would have let you keep it."