Chapter 164 - Happenstance (1/2)

At the Hogs Head Inn, a short wizard with bandy legs, long scraggly ginger hair, bloodshot baggy brown eyes with a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow and takes out a cig to smoke. Despite always perpetually smelling of tobacco and alcohol that never did much to stop Mundungus Fletcher from acting out on his vices.

”Why so nervous Mundungus?” Ventured to say the owner and barman of the Hog's Head.

Mundungus almost chokes on the cloud of smoke he was holding in. Loudly coughing he put out his cig as his already bloodshot eyes turn watery. ”Jus' waiting for someone, Aberforth.” Mundungus croaked as he wiped his face with his dirty coat sleeve.

Long, stringy, wiry grey hair and beard, but short enough to only reach his chest. Aberforth Dumbledore carefully studied Mundungus through the dirty lenses of his spectacles. Despite the dirt on the lenses, his eyes were a piercing, brilliant blue much like that of his elder brother. Eyes suddenly narrow before a loud snort escaped from him.

”You would do well to ignore the summons, Mundungus,” Aberforth gruffly said. ”Dumbledore never asks for no reason and often times, the price is found to be too high.”

Mundungus seems to be visibly startled by the response. ”But 'tis Dumbledore! And I owe him quite a lot, ya know. He did save me-.”

”As I said before, Dumbledore tends to collect with added interest,” Aberforth bitterly said, before turning his back on Mundungus to serve another customer. His barman's apron was a bit grimy, but nothing too bad that a cleaning charm couldn't fix. Which was all it had seen for some time in all honesty.

Mundungus didn't quite know what to make of the answer he'd just received. Quickly putting the conversation out of mind, he took a sip of the butterbeer for him. Lacking in a bit of a kick, but he knew better than to arrive slovenly drunk before Dumbledore. It was best to stick to the lower end of things for now.

The door of the bar one more opens to reveal the rare cloaked figure of Albus Dumbledore. ”Mundungus,” Dumbledore called out causing Mundungus to spill some of the butterbeer down his shirt. Quickly wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he reaches into his pocket and drops coins onto the bar, before hurriedly making his way past the other patrons of the pub.

”Ah, sorry,” Mundungus apologized as he followed Dumbledore out of the door failing to notice that Dumbledore could not seem to meet the sharp gaze of Aberforth at the bar.

”No, it's perfectly alright,” Albus Dumbledore said as the tip of his bright robes peeked out from underneath his cloak as they walked. ”And how has your evening been, Mundungus?”

”Well, sir,” Mundungus stammered, before hesitating to say, ”Er, Dumbledore, are ye sure that ye wish to go to the Monarch? It's not a very nice place at all, unlike the Hogs Head Inn.”

”I am given to understand that is the case,” Dumbledore said quite cheerfully. ”It was quite the eye-opening experience in all honesty.”

”Er, yes, that being the case, are ye really sure you wish to meet Sanderson, Dumbledore?” Mundungus reluctantly asked again. ”He's not someone ya ever want to meet under any sort of circumstances. Much less 'ave an amicable conversation with.”

”I'm fairly certain, Mundungus,” Dumbledore firmly said as Mundungus only further wilted under the bright gaze.

”Ah, yes, in that case, er-.” Mundungus warily holds out a dirty coat arm for Dumbledore to take. Dumbledore must have a bit of reprehension by the entire situation as he only rather lightly clutched at the coat sleeve. ”Right then, hold on,” Mundungus said, before apparating away with a small pop.

The two of them appeared on the outskirts of London as Dumbledore was quick to remove his hand from Mundungus's sleeve. ”Er, follow closely please,” Mundungus muttered as he led them to the nearby pub in the distance by the name of Monarch.

Ill at ease, Mundungus pushed the door open and entered the smoke-filled pub with Dumbledore in tow. None of the patrons pay much attention as they laugh, shout, talk, and generally amuse themselves by various means. Out in the corner of one of the booths, one can even see a snake basket being brought out from underneath the table. A sleek, venomous cobra emerges as the wizards take turns poking the cobra in the head. The winner is whoever manages to poke the cobra the most without being bitten.

Trying not to cringe, Mundungus fakes his bluster as he leads Dumbledore all the way to the old back booth. Dumbledore must have been surprised as a faint gasp of astonishment escapes him at seeing the figure seating in the booth. An old weathered man with neat cut white hair and a knit wool jumper glances up from his romantic novella.

”Mundungus, what did I say about you ever appearing here ever again?” Sanderson firmly said as two burly wizards standing guard at the booth flex their muscles.

”I understand, Sanderson, sir!” Mundungus hastily said. ”But I was asked to by Dumbledore, sir, to be his guide to this place.”

Sanderson's wolfish yellow eyes flicked onto the figure behind as his eyes slightly widen in recognition. ”In that case, welcome, Professor to this humble establishment of mine,” Sanderson rather courtesy said. ”Although, Mundungus if you would be so kind as to wait by the bar. I'm sure the Professor and I have some matters to discuss that we do not want to be overheard.”

Mundungus didn't have a chance to protest as the two burly wizards easily grab him by the forearms over to the bar and roughly sit him down. The wizards in the bar instantly get the hint as a loud scramble is seen as they grab their coats and leave clinking coins as payment out on the tables. Those gambling with the cobra fearlessly stuffed the furious hissing snake back into its basket before leaving like the wind. In mere minutes the pub was a desolate as a desert.

”Please have a seat, Professor,” Sanderson said as he gestured for Dumbledore to have a seat before him.

”Thank you, I'm very much obliged,” Dumbledore said as he took the seat before the owner of the pub.

”A drink, Professor?”

”No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

”Suit yourself,” Sanderson said as he took a sip of his ale. ”Now, let us be direct, Professor, I am not one for walking around in circles. Why has your esteemed self, lowered himself to come to see little old me?”

”First, it is the matter of offering my condolences on the strange and abrupt disappearance of your cousin, Professor Adric,” Dumbledore sincerely replied.