After buying the wand, Aberforth led Hector back to the Leaky Cauldron, preparing to return to the Hog's Head.
"Mind the step, Hector," Aberforth reminded Hector, who was busy playing with his new wand. "You must take good care of your wand."
"I know, Grandpa, you've already said it a dozen times." Hector ran on ahead happily, holding the wand in his hand.
*I say it, but you actually have to listen,* Aberforth thought to himself. The whole way back, Hector's hand had not stopped moving for a single second, poking this and pointing at that. It was the first time in his life Aberforth had apologized so many times in one day.
Yet watching Hector's skipping figure, Aberforth still felt deeply happy and fulfilled.
Hector pushed open the pub door first, with Aberforth following closely behind.
"Ah, Aberforth," old Tom, who was wiping a glass with a cloth, looked up and greeted him. "Everything go smoothly? Fancy a drink?"
"No, Tom, I still need to take Hector back home." Aberforth shook his head. "Just letting you borrow your fireplace."
"Be my guest, Aberforth. You must come by for a drink next time."
Aberforth nodded in acknowledgment. He walked over to the fireplace first, tapped it with his wand, and the flames flared up instantly.
"Hector, we're taking the Floo powder home today." Aberforth pulled a tin can from inside his coat. "Hector, grab a handful of Floo powder, step into the fireplace, say 'Hog's Head' loudly, and drop the powder. Remember, you must pronounce it clearly."
Looking at the flames before him, Hector knew logically that Floo powder was completely safe and harmless, but seeing the fire burning with such unnatural vigor still made his heart skip a beat.
*(Hector: Something feels off. Feels like this old timer is trying to do me in.)*
"Don't be afraid, Hector. The fire won't hurt you," Aberforth guessed Hector's worries and comforted him.
Hector took a deep breath, grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the can in Aberforth's hand, and stood before the fireplace, wanting to check if there was any scorching heat radiating from it like a normal hearth.
It wasn't that he didn't trust him; he was mostly terrified that Aberforth's non-verbal spell might have gone wrong somewhere. Hector swore that the moment he felt any burning heat, he wouldn't step inside even if Aberforth talked his mouth dry. Compared to being roasted to a golden brown, enduring the slight nausea of Apparition was far more acceptable.
To his surprise, Hector noticed that although the flames before him were roaring fiercely, they indeed lacked the scorching heat he remembered from helping his family heat the brick beds back in his past life.
He took a deep breath, cautiously stretched out one leg first, and then stepped entirely into the flames.
"Hog's Head." The flames surged up from his shins in an instant. Darkness fell over Hector's vision; first he felt as though he were being pulled through the fireplace by a giant hand, and then he was abruptly shoved into a new fireplace. The darkness gradually faded, and the scene before him transformed into the interior of the Hog's Head.
To Hector's astonishment, Aberforth had arrived at the Hog's Head ahead of him. Compared to Hector, who was covered in dust, Aberforth looked completely unhurried. He looked at Hector, who was brushing the ash off his clothes, with a smile on his face.
*At least it's better than the Knight Bus,* Hector thought to himself. *For convenience of travel, I'd better learn Apparition as soon as possible.*
"Hector, do you want to try on your new clothes first?" Aberforth helped brush the dust off Hector and said to him, "By the way, your room is on the third floor now. I rearranged it. You know how noisy the pub gets at night; being a bit further away might be better."
Hector nodded, quickly went upstairs, and scratched his head as he looked at the newly built staircase that still smelled of paint.
He remembered very clearly that last night this had simply been a wall. In other words, the original design of the Hog's Head didn't even have a third floor. That meant Aberforth had spent just a single morning pulling a third floor out of thin air.
Now Hector knew what Aberforth had been up to this morning. He tentatively took a step onto the stairs to test it—the steps were very sturdy. Hector reached the third floor, and the only thing that met his eyes was a single door. Hector stopped at the threshold and glanced at the neatly nailed plaque overhead, which read: "Hector's Room."
Hector took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open.
There was no trace of any fresh renovation smell inside. The newly built attic was remarkably spacious, easily the size of two of last night's rooms combined. A crooked yet remarkably sturdy new desk, paired with a slightly crudely made but meticulously smoothed chair complete with a soft cushion, stood right where you could see it upon entering. The desk was piled high with various items—magic supplies, Hector guessed, prepared in advance. Brown carpeting covered the floor, made of a material Hector had never seen before; it felt soft and springy underfoot, imparting an intensely cozy warmth. In the very center of the room stood a large bed; although the bedding had been used yesterday, getting closer revealed it still carried the scent of the sun. A wardrobe stretching all the way to the ceiling stood in the corner, next to which was a stack of books reaching nearly up to Hector's height. Right beside that was an iron cage housing a small screech owl, which was currently staring back at Hector with a pair of large eyes.
Hector took off his robes and draped them over the back of the chair. Only then did he notice that the desk was packed full of various magic prank products and a wide assortment of candies. Aberforth didn't look like the type to frequent sweet shops, let alone joke shops. Seeing even a box of the famous Cockroach Clusters on the desk, Hector figured Aberforth must have bought a little bit of every single candy available on the market and dumped them all onto his table.
There was also a drawer in the desk. Hector gave it a pull, but it wouldn't budge. Putting his back into it with all his might, he finally jerked the drawer open. It, too, was stuffed to the brim. Taking a closer look, he saw it was filled entirely with Chocolate Frogs.
"I didn't know what you liked to eat, so I bought a bit of everything. As for the Chocolate Frogs, I remember Ariana loved them when she was little, so I figured children's tastes must be pretty similar and bought a few extra," Aberforth's voice came from behind him.
Hector turned around to look at Aberforth, who was rubbing his hands together with a hint of embarrassment.
"Well? Do you like the room?"
At this moment, Aberforth's figure merged infinitely with the image of his grandfather from the deepest recesses of his past life. Hector's life in his previous world had not been particularly happy; his parents divorced, and his grandfather had raised him single-handedly.
In Hector's memory, his grandfather had always been strong. Relying on a body that was far from robust and using his weather-beaten hands, he had tried his utmost to provide Hector with everything he needed. Under the erosion of time, his body had long since grown stooped, and tasks that were once easy became difficult. Making a living grew harder year by year, yet his grandfather had never complained. With a back that wasn't particularly broad, he had propped up a whole world for Hector.
Life was hard, but it remained steady. Hector successfully passed his university entrance exams, and his grandfather poured a little wine to celebrate with him, letting out a long-held breath after years of being crushed under life's heavy burdens. His grandfather, usually stern and sparing with words, had pulled him close and rambled on for half the night. Leaning into his grandfather's embrace at that time, Hector realized for the first time how emaciated the towering figure in his heart had actually become.
As if the obsession in his heart had been released, his grandfather fell ill without warning. His body was already like a house leaking from all sides; once the will supporting it gave way, the whole person simply collapsed.
The doctor shook his head at Hector.
"Your grandfather has so many underlying conditions, and looking at them, they've been there for years. Why was it never treated?" The doctor looked at the test charts. "Dragging it out until now, all we can do is try to prolong his life as much as possible. Prepare yourselves mentally, and let the old man eat something good."
In a daze, Hector walked out of the consulting room, looked at his grandfather sitting in the lobby chair, and forced a sliver of a smile.
"It's nothing, Grandpa, just minor things. You'll be better in no time."
He helped his grandfather back home and bought a few cold dishes from the braised food shop downstairs, mixing them with his grandfather's favorite pig's head meat.
"Get me some wine." His grandfather, who had remained silent all the way back from the hospital, spoke for the first time.
"Grandpa—" Hector saw the resolute look in his grandfather's eyes; he simply didn't have the heart to refuse him.
Hector knew he couldn't hide it, and his grandfather knew it too.
His grandfather took the wine bottle handed over by Hector. At that moment, even unscrewing the cap felt like an immensely difficult task, so Hector stepped in to help him.
With trembling hands, his grandfather poured a glass for Hector first, and then one for himself.
"Lad, Grandpa knows everything. Having made it this far, Grandpa's mission is done." His grandfather clinked glasses with Hector, downing the wine in one gulp.
"Grandpa is content."
His grandfather picked up a piece of pig's head meat with his chopsticks. Today's meat was exceptionally slippery, and after trying for a long time, he couldn't pick up a single piece. Fumbling in a panic, Hector picked up a slice and placed it in his grandfather's bowl.
Looking at his own hand, his grandfather gave a bitter smile and picked up his wine glass. Unlike the first time, he only took a tiny sip.
"I'm old, and good for nothing now."
The wine in Hector's mouth tasted bitter and fiery at that moment.
"Lad, you've grown up. From now on, this family will depend on you."
His grandfather picked up another piece. Although his hand still shook, he tried his hardest to control it. At that moment, he wasn't just fighting his own hands; he was fighting against a ridiculous fate.
His grandfather drank a lot that day. Ever since he fell ill, Hector had never seen him have such a good appetite. Realizing what was happening, Hector's tears fell uncontrollably. He gripped his grandfather's hand tightly, as if letting go would mean losing the dear old man before him.
His grandfather's face wore an expression of complete fulfillment. He rested his head on Hector's lap, just as Hector used to do when he was a little boy.
"Grandpa is happy. Really, very happy."
With great effort, his grandfather raised his arm to wipe away Hector's endless tears.
"Don't go sniffling like that. Doesn't look like a real man."
His grandfather turned over, presenting his back to Hector.
"Dying—what a big deal is that, anyway?"
He shifted his position to find a comfortable one, and soon fell into a deep, heavy slumber.
By the time Hector realized it, his grandfather could no longer hear his calls. There was a smile at the corners of his mouth, and he didn't look like he was suffering any pain at all.
From then on, Hector was alone, right up until his own inexplicable death. He had never expected to meet someone just like his grandfather, and now he had—this white-haired old man standing right before him.
At this moment, looking at Aberforth, Hector's eyes filled with tears. He rushed forward and threw his arms around Aberforth in a big hug.
Hector had never imagined he would break down sobbing, let alone in front of an old man he had only known for a single day. Aberforth, faced with the weeping wreck of a boy, was completely at a loss. The warrior who had dared to stand face-to-face with Grindelwald at the height of his power was confronting this kind of situation for the very first time. Without a ready-made plan, he glanced at the drawer of Chocolate Frogs, reached in to grab one, and unwrapped the package. The Chocolate Frog inside obediently hopped right onto his hand.
After a moment, Hector raised his head, wiped his face, and said earnestly to Aberforth, "I love it. Thank you, Grandpa."
Looking at Hector, Aberforth teased, "You're much too big a boy to still be crying. Have a Chocolate Frog; it'll make you feel better."
He stood up, handed the Chocolate Frog to Hector, and pushed open the bedroom door.
"Right, once you finish that one, no more. Change your clothes and come downstairs for dinner." With that, he hurried downstairs without turning back to look at Hector again.
Only after closing the bedroom door did Aberforth raise a hand and swiftly wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes.