Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 5: A Series of Tense Conversations (pt 1)

The Hog's Head Inn, Hogsmeade
Just before noon

The Hog's Head Inn had the dubious distinction of being the most disreputable inn in Hogsmeade. The distinction was dubious for two reasons. First, there were only two inns in Hogsmeade. Second, it was the only business in Hogsmeade that was in any sense disreputable, as the rest of the town marketed itself as a bright and friendly tourist trap that existed primarily to bilk Hogwarts students out of their galleons with everything from overpriced chocolates to custom-made quills (for those few students who took inordinate pride in the quality of their quills). Few students ever went to the Hog's Head. Fewer still ever went back a second time, as the staff and management were aggressively discourteous to all their customers but especially those who were still students.

And yet amazingly, the place stayed open year after year, despite the sticky floors, the dirty tables, and the watered-down beer. Even the addition of Argus Filch to the staff wasn't enough to close the place down, and he made it a habit to insult and curse at every single customer without exception. It didn't help that most of the few who did come in had attended Hogwarts while Filch worked there, and the irascible old Squib seemed to have an eidetic memory when it came to what a particular wizard got detention for thirty years earlier and also what the punishment would have been if Filch had gotten his way.

Back behind the bar, Aberforth shook his head ruefully as Filch loomed over a cowering Mundungus Fletcher and lectured him on how he'd told Dung when he was a Third Year that he'd never amount to anything. Despite himself, Aberforth smirked. As if Argus Filch had a clue what Mundungus Fletcher actually did for a living. His thoughts on the subject were diverted, however, by the soft "whoosh" sound from his back office. He sighed in annoyance.

"Argus!" the large man bellowed. "Take over for me! I need a break!"

Without even looking back, Aberforth passed through the office door and closed and locked it behind him. His guest was already inside waiting for him and sitting in his favorite chair. The preening phoenix who had delivered him to this room was perched on the back of said chair and probably was getting ash all over it.

"You know," he said contemptuously, "it's considered rude to Apparate into someone's private rooms without permission. Doubly so, I reckon, if you're burning your way in with a flaming chicken!"

"So nice to see you as well, brother," replied Albus Dumbledore. "But I thought you would prefer that I not enter through the front door. You did tell me once that I was bad for business."

Aberforth snorted.

"More importantly, it was you who sent word that you wished to see me about a 'sensitive matter.' I assumed from the tenor of your message that you would appreciate my discretion rather than take umbrage for it."

The other man sighed loudly and dropped down into the chair opposite.

"I want you to rehire Argus Filch as your Caretaker," Aberforth said without preamble.

Albus crooked an eyebrow in surprise. "Is his work not up to your standards?" he asked with twinkling eyes. Aberforth fought down the instinct to growl at his older brother.

"One would think that a man who spent decades cleaning a whole bloody castle could at least mop a floor, but apparently not. The bar is actually dirtier than when I hired him. But more than that ..."

The wizard trailed off.

"I don't think working here is good for his health," he finally said. "I'm pretty sure he's sneaking liquor when I'm not watching. Also, the work is a lot more physical than what he's used to at the castle where house elves did nearly everything for him. He's an old man, you know."