There he was. He was the reason why his pub had gotten more business that afternoon than it had in the last month. He was the man who caused an uproar in every crowd through which he walked. He was the only thing that Aberforth knew was always riddled into his brother's thoughts. Standing as bold as brass at the front of the Hog's Head, was Harry Potter.

He never thought much of the boy. Aberforth was never into celebrities, and he assumed the boy's arrogance as surely as he assumed it in the rest of them. As he eavesdropped, though, the old wizard behind the counter was pleasantly surprised by Harry Potter's humility. It was so refreshing to hear a voice with both brilliance and modesty, for this was not a combination Aberforth was used to. He poured a glass for an elderly hag as he listened to the boy's misfortune told in his calm, sad voice.

From what Aberforth gleaned from Potter's speech, the Hogwarts students were up to something that they ought not to be up to. This made the man smile when no one was looking, remembering fondly his trouble-making days back in Hogwarts. This was different, though, as he soon could tell. These students were not causing trouble for the sake of it as he used to do. They were protesting.

As much of a hermit as he was, Aberforth was not blind to what was going on with the Ministry. He'd been around for many years, and he knew corruption and denial of facts when he saw it. He wouldn't go spouting off about it, but he knew that the boy didn't lie when he claimed that the Dark Lord had returned. It was reassuring to see the group of students willing to hear the kid out. He could understand Potter's frustration with the Ministry; after a childhood spent fighting with Albus, he knew what it was like to have one's side of the story completely ignored.

The boy had called it 'Dumbledore's Army.' Aberforth stifled a laugh; that boy truly admired the headmaster. To give Albus credit for an organization that Potter himself started, that was admiration. Or blindness, he thought to himself, doubtful that the boy knew the first thing about his brother. If Harry knew how pompous and manipulative Albus was, he wouldn't be naming his protest group after him, that's for sure. It was nice that he had motivation, though, and Aberforth could only hope that his proud brother would appreciate the gesture.

The students soon cleared the pub, and Aberforth inwardly wished them luck; Potter seemed like one of the good ones. If he ever had the chance, Aberforth would see to it that the boy succeeded in his battles. Finally, amongst the evil, the arrogance, and the lies, there was someone he could root for.