Chapter 55: Extra Money
After the construction of the second floor, many of the pub's tables and chairs had to be moved upstairs. Professor Flitwick used a Levitation Charm to move them, while the house-elves carried oak barrels. A new solid wood bar was also to be installed.
Hagrid saw the others moving things and felt he ought to help, so he was eager to join in. He looked at the pink umbrella tied at his waist with a hesitant expression.
After thinking it over carefully, Hagrid finally decided to use his own strength. He waved to Madam Rosmerta and rushed excitedly to move the heaviest bar.
Dumbledore, seated nearby, watched.
The heavy wooden bar was something that could only be moved with a Levitation Charm, but the half-giant simply began to move it himself, wedging his hands under the cabinet to grip it, bending his waist, lifting his shoulders, inhaling deeply, and letting out a muffled grunt.
"Ha!"
He lifted it. One end of the long bar rested against his belly, the other lifted upward. All the weight fell onto his hands and stomach, and he trembled twice before it broke.
Several house-elves rushed to help. They were already annoyed that Hagrid had stolen their work, but now that he had damaged the cabinet, they couldn't blame the tavern's customers. They could only blame themselves, crying over the cabinet and wishing they could bang their heads against it.
At last, Professor Flitwick, now free, repaired the cabinet. The house-elves no longer wished to let the half-giant work. Every time Hagrid approached, they glared at him, which made him uneasy.
Hagrid stood there, bewildered, forcing an awkward smile. Melvin couldn't help but tease him, and Rosmerta and Professor Flitwick laughed heartily.
Dumbledore, standing nearby, also smiled.
Then the half-giant ran to watch Wright cast the Extension Charm, staring intently as he chanted and shaped the space, his eyes wide. Unlike an elf, but just as unsettling, he made Wright's spellcasting uncomfortable.
Hagrid's desire to apply the Stretching Charm to his own hut was written all over his face. Melvin and Flitwick saw it, Dumbledore saw it, and Wright saw it too. He sighed helplessly and casually offered to talk about beginner spell techniques.
Hagrid, deeply grateful, patted him on the shoulder with a hand like a palm leaf and offered to buy him a drink.
He only partially mastered the Stretching Charm. By then, the third floor was complete. When Hagrid heard that Madam Rosmerta was going to give it to Melvin, he dragged him to see it, nearly collapsing the newly built wooden stairs.
"What are you going to use this floor for?"
"You'll know later."
"..."
Hagrid's huge face wrinkled slightly. This way of speaking was very much like Dumbledore's, which he disliked.
The renovations progressed quickly, and in about three hours, the main work was nearly finished. As lunchtime approached, the house-elves, who had been busy all day, immediately gathered in the back kitchen.
A group of wizards gathered around a round table to enjoy tavern classics: beer-battered cod with chips, minced lamb meat pie with vegetables, and Scotch eggs—poached eggs wrapped in sausage and minced meat, then fried. The wine and drinks menu was abundant, and Hagrid drank glass after glass, grinning from ear to ear.
Melvin and Professor Flitwick enjoyed a craft beer, mostly for show.
Dumbledore, beaming, chose a whiskey instead of the sweet eggnog or mead.
At the table, Rosmerta consulted about the decoration and layout, with Melvin answering most of the time, occasionally contributing some Muggle-inspired ideas. The landlady listened attentively, as did the repair shop owner.
The meticulous work in the afternoon turned out to be even longer. After finishing everything, they bid farewell to the landlady.
"Let's have dinner at the tavern before heading back," urged Rosmerta warmly.
"Let's go to the tavern—but the one at the end of the village, Hog's Head!" Hagrid slung an arm around Wright's shoulders, ignoring the landlady's thoughts with a rough laugh. "I'll buy you all a drink!"
"..."
Melvin and the others responded with helpless smiles.
It was six in the evening, and night had already fallen.
The lights of the Hog's Head flickered on. The old shabby wooden sign showed a severed boar's head, blood stains on its neck and a strange gaze, as if mocking passersby. Standing on that cozy street in Hogsmeade, it felt oddly out of place compared to the other sweet shops and pink tea parlors for couples.
It was Christmas Day, the evening after Christmas.
Ordinary wizards were still at home with family and friends, and the streets were deserted. With no customers, there was no business. Most shops were closed, but the Hog's Head was half-open, revealing a handful of customers inside.
Many of the patrons concealed their faces. Some wizards wore cloaks and hoods, others half-masks or bandages. A few witches were wrapped in thick black scarves. Some wizards had unnatural expressions, as if they were wearing someone else's face.
They sat in groups of three or four, speaking in low voices. The overlapping whispers created an unsettling silence, not a lively scene.
Hagrid didn't notice. He reached out and patted Wright, making him stumble. Then he patted Melvin on the shoulder and looked at Dumbledore and Flitwick.
"Come on, you've got to try the Firewhisky! My treat!"
Professor Flitwick declined. "I've already had enough yesterday and today."
Dumbledore shook his head with a complicated expression. "Go ahead. If I go in, the boss will probably throw me out."
The others thought he was joking and didn't take it seriously, so they didn't try to persuade him.
Wright knew the Hog's Head well. He chuckled twice and, seeing Melvin about to shake his head, quickly tugged at his sleeve. "Then let's have a drink, just the three of us. Hagrid is treating. I'll thank him on your behalf, Melvin."
Melvin turned to look at him: "?"
...
The Hog's Head was small, even smaller than The Three Broomsticks before its expansion. The main hall was crowded. Aside from a row of seats along the bar, there were only a few small round tables, accommodating twenty or thirty customers at most.
As they entered the bar, a strong smell of mutton hit Melvin in the face, making him frown slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Wright seemed to sense his distaste through the mask and chuckled:
"You'll get used to it in a few minutes. Actually, it's not all bad. If you sniff carefully, can you detect a faint aroma of alcohol?"
Melvin took a deep breath and indeed smelled something else, but it wasn't alcohol—it was the scent of moldy wood.
"..."
Half of Melvin's face was hidden by the mask, expressionless and unreadable.
To match the customs of the other Hog's Head patrons, both he and Wright wore masks. Hagrid, however, wore none—he didn't care unless it concealed his nearly three-meter height.
In the dim light, a mask was hardly necessary.
Like the Leaky Cauldron, the Hog's Head served as a bar on the ground floor and an inn upstairs. Its target clientele was clearly not the average wizard. If a survey were conducted, Melvin believed there would be significant overlap between this pub's patrons and those of Knockturn Alley.
However, the atmosphere here was even worse than in Knockturn Alley. Doors, windows, tables, and chairs were covered in old, greasy putty, leaving a black, sticky smear if touched. The floor felt odd underfoot; at first glance, it looked like packed mud, but in reality, it was stone slabs stained by centuries of grime. Since rainwater couldn't wash the interior, in some respects it was filthier than the open air of Knockturn Alley.
The half-giant entered the bar, drawing the attention of many patrons, but he paid them no mind.
His first move was to order drinks. Hagrid, an expert, led them to the counter. Behind the wooden bar stood the bartender, a tall, thin old man with a thick beard and graying hair. His features were obscured, though his piercing gaze hinted at a touch of irritability.
This man before him was the biological brother of the Headmaster...
Melvin studied the owner of the Hog's Head Inn. He was tall and thin, wearing a grimy apron. Most of his face was hidden by a scruffy beard and messy hair, practically a mask. Only beneath his brows peeked out a pair of slightly clouded blue-gray eyes.
If one didn't know his true identity, it would be hard to confuse the shabby bartender with the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Three bottles of Ogden's Firewhisky," said Hagrid.
The bartender glanced at them, bent down, and pulled out three dusty bottles of whisky from under the counter. His voice came out muffled:
"Thirty Sickles."
Hagrid pulled a gold Galleon from his pocket, counted out thirteen silver Sickles, weighed them in his palm, and handed them over. The wooden cash register drawer opened automatically, swallowing the fourteen coins.
"No glasses," he muttered.
Wright led Melvin toward an empty round table in the corner. "In the Hog's Head, you drink straight or bring your own."
Melvin glanced back and saw the bartender wiping a glass with a dirty, dark rag, seemingly unwashed. The glass grew dirtier with each wipe.
"..."
Firewhisky.
The liquid was a transparent amber. Unopened, a thin layer of blue flame clung to the surface, faintly warm through the bottle. Once opened, the flame quickly turned bright yellow, creating a foaming, flickering blaze. Sparks twinkled on the surface, making a soft hiss.
It was said that the brewer's inspiration had come from visiting a dragon.
Hagrid didn't bother with compliments or toasts. He uncorked the bottle and took a gulp. He exhaled in comfort, a rush of alcohol shooting through his nose, from which orange flames drifted.
Wright drank more slowly but with equal ease. Flames spouted from his nose when he asked Melvin:
"I heard you rented the Memory Mirror to Madam Rosmerta so she could play baseball games in the tavern. That drew a lot of business, and you shared in the extra profits. How much is the mirror's rental? Do you make much money?"
"The mirror is free, and the baseball match revenue goes to replacing the team's brooms. I only earn a commission."
"How much exactly?"
"Four hundred Galleons..."
Melvin eyed him suspiciously, suspecting the repair shop owner wanted in on the business, but he didn't mind. After all, the Memory Mirror was his invention:
"Why do you ask? Does someone else want to buy the mirror? You can sell it directly."
"No, you came up with the idea and funded my research and development. I can't just keep the mirror."
"Is the Monkstanley family really that ethical?"
"Thanks for the compliment."
"Then why ask about rent and profits?"
"This matter is more complicated..."
Wright took a sip of whisky, waiting for the fire to die down in his nose. He was about to explain in detail when he noticed the unopened bottle in front of Melvin and asked:
"Why aren't you drinking?"
"Go on, try it," chimed in Hagrid immediately, his tone a little tipsy. He stood up and headed toward the back of the bar. "Enjoy your drinks. I'm off to the loo. I've drunk too much today..."
Wright waved him along, saying he'd look after Melvin.
The half-giant walked calmly away from the round table, and several eyes in the pub followed him as he left.
"Eh..."
Melvin hesitated. After all, he was a professor, and even on holiday, he couldn't tarnish Hogwarts' reputation in public. So he reached into his pocket, rummaged around, and pulled out a cup.
He uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass of magical whisky. Suddenly, orange flames burst from the cup.
Wright was stunned for a moment, staring at the cup and then at the sagging pocket. "Undetectable Extension Charm?"
Melvin nodded silently and took a sip of whisky. The flames weren't searing, but rather spicy.
Wright frowned, his expression suddenly serious:
"Is that pouch of yours legal?"
Melvin looked puzzled. "I'm a foreign wizard—why should I obey the laws of the British Ministry of Magic?"
"Don't lie to me! The Woolworth Building also prohibits abuse of the Undetectable Extension Charm!"
"I'm in Scotland. Why should I obey the laws of the American Magical Congress?"
"You... this... I..."
Wright was dumbfounded. The Monkstanley family had been model, law-abiding wizards for generations. It had taken him years to open a repair shop here. He had become bolder in recent years, but he had never seen someone so blatantly lawless.
"So when you asked me last time in the tavern if the Stretching Charm was legal..."
"You're a local wizard, you should obey the law."
Melvin waved his hand dismissively, telling him not to worry about those details:
"Forget the Undetectable Extension Charm. Let's talk business."
Wright gripped the wine bottle as if clenching a fist. His throat felt tight. He wanted to write to the Ministry of Magic and the Magical Congress to report this man, but thinking of the illegal shop he himself had opened, he held back in the end.
"Old Tom of the Leaky Cauldron also knows about the Shadow Mirror. He wants to buy one. You could even partner with The Three Broomsticks model—you provide the mirror, he provides the tavern, and you both share the monthly profits."
"You're mistaken," corrected Melvin. "I lent the Shadow Mirror to Miss Rosmerta for free. The school partnered with The Three Broomsticks through the Quidditch event. They share the profits, and I only take a commission."
"Then Old Tom is also willing to give a share to the school, so you can earn a commission."
"What I mean is that the Leaky Cauldron wants the Shadow Mirror, and Old Tom has to pay."
"?"
Wright was about to ask, but Melvin suddenly turned his head toward the back door of the tavern and whispered:
"Has Hagrid taken too long in the bathroom this time?"
(End Of Chapter)