Aberforth didn't stop at cursing out Dumbledore. He went after Grindelwald too, and honestly, got in even more digs at him.
The ratio ran roughly one part Dumbledore to one and a half parts Grindelwald.
Dumbledore, of course, couldn't hear any of it. No matter. Tom, ever thoughtful, had already invited the other party in question to listen in personally, letting Grindelwald catch every golden word straight from Aberforth's mouth.
Back in the study space, Grindelwald sat there fuming, half tempted to fly straight over from Durmstrang and deliver a hundred curses each to both men responsible.
Because it wasn't just Aberforth. Tom had his own hand in it too.
Every time Aberforth cursed him out, Tom sat there nodding along with a bright, agreeable smile, occasionally chiming in with a curse of his own, playing the picture of righteous indignation so convincingly that Aberforth felt thoroughly vindicated, like he'd finally found someone who truly understood him.
This kid was rotten straight through.
"Tom, why in the world did you wade into that mess?"
Aberforth had his own sources, and he knew Tom hadn't just witnessed the final pact being signed, he'd actively served as the go-between, floating the idea that had eased tensions between Grindelwald and half the Ministries of Magic in the world.
"You can't really blame me for that."
The young man sighed and drained his cup in one go. "I know the headmaster's always longed for peace. If I hadn't stepped in and given him a graceful way out, who knows how much longer that whole business would have dragged on."
Peace, sure. What Albus actually longed for was a full reconciliation, patched cracks and all.
Aberforth's expression soured, though he still held his tongue about the darker chapters of his brother's past, out of whatever scrap of loyalty remained.
"Tom, I'll give you one piece of advice and that's all. Keep your distance from Grindelwald. That man could sell you off and you'd still thank him for the coin. My brother's the same. Stay clear of both of them. Just mind your own business."
"Fair enough." Tom sighed theatrically. "Dealing with clever men like Grindelwald and the headmaster really does wear a person down."
"Rubbish!"
Grindelwald finally cracked. "Tom, I'm practically working for you for the rest of my natural life, and you still talk about me like this behind my back? You've got no conscience at all!"
Too loud.
Tom made a face and cut the connection to the study space, turning his full attention back to trading rounds with Aberforth.
A bottle in, Aberforth figured out easily enough that Tom had brought his young lady friends here to escape the crowds elsewhere. Without a second thought, he hung the closed sign on the door and headed into the kitchen to throw together dinner for the three of them.
Aberforth had always had a gift for taking care of people, considerably more emotionally attuned than his brother, which was exactly why Ariana had leaned on him so heavily over the years.
Tom didn't leave the Hog's Head with the two sisters until right up against curfew. They'd spent the whole day thoroughly entertained, walking away with no shortage of scandalous Dumbledore history to chew on.
And did the day end there for Tom? Of course not.
He still owed Hermione a night at the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars, and even Ariana, back in the study space, needed her share of attention.
It was probably a mercy that Fleur wasn't at Hogwarts today. He genuinely might not have survived the day otherwise.
Lying in bed that night, he let out a long sigh, reflecting that today had drained him a thousand times harder than any single day spent grinding away at the Wizard's Workshop.
Women really were the most impossible magic in the entire world.
Of course, that was purely his own private problem. Very few people in the world had the privilege of drowning in that particular flavor of happy misfortune. If Hogwarts students were ever polled on the hardest subject at school, most would name Potions, or Transfiguration, partly due to the material itself, and largely thanks to the professors teaching it.
A small handful, though, would name Ancient Runes.
Not because those students were anything special. Simply because they were among the very few who'd bothered signing up for such a punishing elective in the first place.
...
"Today, class, we'll be studying one of the grandest concepts in the foundational runic system: World."
Standing at the front of the room, Ancient Runes professor Bathsheda Babbling drew, or more precisely, carved, a rune onto the blackboard. The handful of students scattered across the room widened their eyes and hurried to copy it into their notebooks stroke for stroke, terrified of getting a single line wrong.
She gave them a full five minutes before finally explaining what World actually meant.
"The rune World carries the grandest concept of any in the ancient runic system, and it functions differently depending entirely on context. Broadly speaking, it describes both space and time. The Undetectable Extension Charm you're all familiar with, for instance, carries the power of the World rune within it, simplified down through modern spellcraft into something castable through incantation alone."
"But if you want to create a space large enough to matter, you'll need a genuine understanding of this rune. World also carries a meaning of stillness, representing stability, permanence..."
Babbling worked to explain the rune's meaning in the simplest terms she could manage, though the task never came easily to her. The slightest carelessness could distort or entirely miss the rune's true intent.
For the students, it was no easier. Every rune shifted meaning depending on context, layered on top of an exacting, near-impossible writing standard, and the whole subject felt like deciphering some incomprehensible ancient scripture. More than a few of them had already decided to drop the elective come next year.