Chapter 839: The Blood Pact in the Barn
Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s relationship had grown steadily closer—so much so that it had become common knowledge in Godric’s Hollow.
In just a few days, the two had become inseparable, constantly studying magic and discussing their ideals together. If you saw one of them out on the street, chances were the other wasn’t far behind—you just hadn’t spotted him yet.
As for why they were spending so much time outside, it was likely because of Aberforth. He and Dumbledore were arguing more frequently these days. People passing by the Dumbledore house at night could often hear shouting from within.
Dumbledore seemed to feel he was in the wrong and never argued much with his younger brother. Put simply, he never hit back or talked back.
Grindelwald, however, wasn’t nearly as patient. On several occasions, things between him and Aberforth had nearly turned physical.
Each time, Dumbledore had to step in and smooth things over.
Kyle had learned all this from the bar. He hadn’t even stepped outside himself—everything he knew came from others.
Over the past little while, visitors to the bar had come to understand something about Kyle: he loved listening to stories. Or rather, all wizards who studied history of magic seemed to love a good tale. For instance, when Bathilda Bagshot was a child, she’d go to great lengths to ask adults about old rumors and legends.
But Kyle was different from Bathilda—he didn’t discriminate when it came to stories. Whether it was an old tale handed down through generations, an unfounded picture-book legend, or just some neighborhood gossip from the day before—as long as he enjoyed listening, he’d wave a hand and buy the storyteller a glass of the finest Firewhiskey.
Three whole Sickles, no less.
Most folks couldn’t afford such pricey drink, so with someone else footing the bill, they were more than happy to keep their ears open and share what they heard. After all, it wasn’t much trouble.
They were happy, and so was Kyle.