The meeting stretched late into the evening, and it wasn't until nightfall that the last of the attendees left The Hog's Head, their footsteps heavy with weariness. The sky deepened into a rich, dark blue, leaving the bar empty except for Kyle and Dumbledore.
Behind the counter, the barkeep—who had spent the entire day silently polishing glasses—finally broke his silence. His voice was rough, carrying a tone of habitual annoyance. "You should leave too, Dumbledore."
"For the love of a hefty sum of Galleons, Aberforth, could you allow me to linger just a while longer?" Dumbledore replied, his voice tinged with fatigue.
Aberforth scowled, his expression dripping with disdain, but he didn't force them out.
"Isn't this peculiar," Dumbledore mused aloud, glancing at Kyle. "Yes, you heard me correctly. Aberforth here is my—"
"Dumbledore!" An icy voice sliced through the air from behind him. "If you finish that sentence, you'll never set foot in my bar again."
Dumbledore wisely fell silent, opting instead to shift topics. "Kyle, do you know why I asked you to stay?"
Kyle's gaze flickered between Dumbledore and the scowling innkeeper. He already knew about their connection—Albus Dumbledore and Aberforth, the innkeeper with the strongest ties to Hogsmeade. But since neither seemed keen to discuss it, he decided to feign ignorance and go along with the diversion.
"To tell them the truth about Voldemort's return?" Kyle ventured.
"That's part of it," Dumbledore said evenly, his face betraying no emotion. "Those present today, as well as the members of the Order of the Phoenix, are trustworthy individuals who will stand by our side when the war begins. I believe you're already familiar with all of them."
Kyle frowned. Something about Dumbledore felt... off. To Kyle, this entire meeting seemed unnecessary. Shouldn't Dumbledore himself maintain those connections? And the way he deliberately referred to Aberforth felt almost as though he wanted to expose their relationship.
Not far away, Aberforth seemed to notice this as well. He set down the glass he'd been cleaning, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What's your plan this time?"
"No plan," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "At least, not yet."
"Really?" Aberforth sneered, clearly skeptical. "I thought you had everything under control. The great Dumbledore, master strategist."
"You don't understand," Dumbledore snapped, his tone rising slightly. "I'm far from perfect—something I've only recently come to accept. In fact, this boy often sees more clearly than I do."
Aberforth shot a glance at Kyle, his expression unreadable. It was rare to hear Dumbledore speak so highly of anyone. Still, Aberforth said nothing. It wasn't his concern. At most, he'd provided the space for the meeting—and charged for it.
"Speaking of which," Aberforth said gruffly, his tone turning practical, "let's settle the bill. Your people ordered twelve bottles of Cherry Soda, eighteen bottles of Pumpkin Fizz, nine pints of Butterbeer, and a variety of other drinks. That comes to five hundred Galleons. Pay up."
Kyle's eye twitched. Five hundred Galleons? How in Merlin's name did he calculate that? At The Three Broomsticks, that list of drinks would cost fifty Galleons at most. How had the price ballooned tenfold here? It was outrageous—even Fred and George, notorious for their markups, only charged Ron double at most.
"Oh, that's a fair deal," Dumbledore said without hesitation, placing a bulging pouch of Galleons on the counter. Aberforth took the money, his expression softening slightly. He reverted to his usual taciturn self, letting Dumbledore chatter away without so much as a glance in his direction.
Kyle watched them, his focus lingering on Dumbledore, who seemed unusually verbose tonight. Something about him didn't sit right. Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that the old wizard was hiding something.
Then, a thought struck him. The Time-Turner... Had Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone reached completion? Or perhaps it was already finished?
The idea made Kyle frown. The Time-Turner was an immensely powerful artifact, tempting even for someone as wise as Dumbledore. But its use was perilous, its consequences unpredictable. Could Dumbledore be considering it in a time like this?
Lost in his thoughts, Kyle barely noticed when Dumbledore approached him. "Alright, we should head back," Dumbledore said lightly. "What's on your mind?"
"Oh, nothing," Kyle said quickly, shaking his head. He scrambled for an excuse. "I was just thinking about the meeting earlier. It felt like we all overlooked something important."
Dumbledore stopped, his interest piqued. "What is it? Speak your mind."
Though Dumbledore had spent over a month meticulously preparing the meeting, he always gave weight to Kyle's insights. Kyle didn't hesitate. "The Ministry of Magic," he said. "It feels like no one considered them."
"The Ministry of Magic?" Dumbledore echoed softly.
"Yes," Kyle affirmed. "We've essentially burned our bridges with Fudge. He's completely unhinged, accusing anyone who supports the truth about Voldemort's return—especially you, Professor."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Ah, yes. I did have a rather heated disagreement with him."
"That's precisely the problem," Kyle pressed. "If we ignore this, the Ministry will become a constant obstacle. We can't fight Voldemort while also dealing with interference from the Ministry. It's a waste of time and resources."
Dumbledore fell silent, his expression contemplative. After a moment, he said, "I'll handle this. I'll speak with Cornelius myself."
"With all due respect, Professor," Kyle replied bluntly, "that approach isn't likely to work anymore. Fudge only visited Hogwarts back then because he was paranoid someone might threaten his position. But things are different now. After Barty Crouch's demotion to the Department of Magical Transportation, there's no one left who poses a serious political challenge to him."
From behind the counter, Aberforth let out a derisive snort. "The great Dumbledore, needing a child to point out something so obvious."
Dumbledore ignored his brother's jab, his sharp gaze fixed on Kyle. "What would you suggest?"
"It's simple," Kyle said with a shrug. "Fudge's attitude is the crux of the issue. If he's willing to cooperate—or at least refrain from interfering—that's ideal. But if not, then perhaps we should consider replacing the Minister of Magic."
"No," Dumbledore said firmly, his response immediate. "Removing Fudge would create chaos, the kind Voldemort thrives on. We can't risk that."
"But isn't that better than having him undermine us from behind?" Kyle countered. "We're gearing up to face Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the front lines, yet the Ministry—our supposed ally—is actively working against us. That's the real chaos Voldemort wants."
"Even so," Dumbledore insisted, "we cannot stoop to that level. If we oust Fudge simply for our own convenience, we become no different from the Death Eaters."
"Foolish old fool," Aberforth sneered, louder this time. "Your mind's gone soft, Albus. You can't even think straight anymore."
Dumbledore continued to ignore him, his penetrating gaze locked on Kyle. "Promise me," he said gravely, "that you won't entertain such thoughts again."
"Well, fine," Kyle replied with a hint of exasperation. "But if we're not replacing the Minister, I do have another idea. It might shift Fudge's stance—but I should warn you, it could slightly tarnish your reputation as a professor."
"Tell me," Dumbledore said, his tone resolute. "If it means you'll abandon the idea of replacing him, I'm willing to consider it."
"Alright," Kyle said, meeting his gaze. "Run for Minister of Magic."
"What?" Dumbledore was momentarily taken aback, his usual composure faltering.
"Not to actually win," Kyle clarified quickly. "Just as a show—to send a clear signal to the wizarding world."