I'm in a crossover anime world, and I've been transported to Hogwarts twice.

Genichi Hanyu muttered to himself, a playful smile curving his lips.

He raised his hand and pushed open the creaking wooden door; the screeching sound of the hinges was like the groan of a dying man.

The bar's interior was even darker and dirtier than its exterior.

A few oil lamps cast a flickering, dim yellow light, illuminating the scratched wooden bar and the scattered, wine-stained round table.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of a mixture of aged beer, goat's milk, and cheap tobacco. Among the several suspicious paintings hanging on the walls, a female portrait was eyeing the intruder with a wary look.

Behind the bar, a burly old man with disheveled gray hair like a lion's mane was mechanically wiping glasses with a dirty rag.

His thick arms were covered with scars, and beneath his thick eyebrows were a pair of deep blue eyes that were remarkably similar to those of Albus Dumbledore, except that these eyes held no spark of wisdom, only a gloom and vigilance accumulated over time.

"This place is already closed!"

Aberforth roared without looking up, his voice hoarse like sandpaper.

He slammed the glass onto the bar counter with a loud thud as the bottom of the glass hit the wooden surface.

Genichi Hanyu ignored this obvious order to leave.

He walked slowly toward the bar, his leather shoes making a slight creaking sound on the sticky floor.

His gaze remained fixed on Aberforth's wrinkled face, trying to capture the most subtle changes in the old man's expression.

"Are you sure you want to get rid of me, Aberforth Dumbledore?"

Genichi Hanyu's voice wasn't loud, but it had a peculiar penetrating quality, echoing clearly in the quiet bar.

"I have good news for you, news that you will be able to see your sister again."

These words were like an invisible key, instantly unlocking Aberforth's tightly closed heart.

The old man suddenly stopped wiping the glass; his thick fingers had turned white from the force he had used.

He slowly raised his head, his deep blue eyes swirling with complex emotions.

Vigilance, suspicion, anger, and a barely perceptible expectation?

"You'd better do as you say."

Aberforth's voice was deep and thunderous, carrying an undisguised threat.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't mind teaching you a lesson, kid."

He put down the glass, his thick arm muscles taut, clearly ready to cast a spell or simply throw a punch at any moment.

Genichi Hanyu calmly sat down on the bar stool in front of the bar, an arm's length away from Aberforth.

He noticed the badly worn silver ring on the old man's right ring finger.

That was the mark of the Dumbledore family, and the last physical connection between him and Ariana.

"Resurrection Stone".

When Genichi Hanyu uttered that word softly, it was like dropping a bomb.

Instantly, Aberforth's pupils contracted sharply, and a storm raged in his azure eyes.

His burly body suddenly leaned forward, and his hands slammed onto the bar, making several glasses clink.

His weathered face was contorted by the sudden emotional shock, and his thick white beard trembled violently with his rapid breathing.

"W-what did you say?"

Aberforth's voice caught in his throat, his rough fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the bar, splinters of wood shattering beneath them.

Genichi Hanyu did not answer immediately.

He calmly took out a small crystal bottle from his inner bag, inside which floated a wisp of silver-blue mist that moved slowly like a living thing.

The mist emitted a faint yet pure light in the dimly lit bar, illuminating Aberforth's face, which had instantly turned pale.

"This is?"

The old man's voice trembled so much that it was almost unrecognizable.

"soul."

Genichi Hanyu gently shook the crystal bottle, and the wisp of silver-blue mist danced around it, outlining a blurry human figure on the bottle's surface.

"To be precise, it is a part of Ariana Dumbledore's soul, a gift I brought back from the underworld."

Aberforth's breathing became rapid and heavy, and the veins on his thick, muscular arms bulged.

His gaze was fixed on the crystal bottle, as if everything else in the world had ceased to exist.

When the wisp of mist accidentally formed a familiar outline—the silhouette of a little girl dancing—the old man let out a gasp that was almost a sob.

"This is impossible."

Aberforth murmured, his voice a mixture of hope and fear: "Death is irreversible, Ariana is already..."

"Death is irreversible simply because one lacks the strength."

Genichi Hanyu calmly interrupted him.

"And when someone obtains the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows, and understands its true power."

Aberforth looked up abruptly, his eyes shifting from doubt to a fanatical focus: "You found the Resurrection Stone? It really can..."

"It's not as simple as just finding it."

"I corrected you," Yuzuru Genichi said, a dark glint flashing in his eyes.

“I have taken control of it. The Resurrection Stone is no longer the legendary toy that can only summon illusory images, but a true key that can connect the realms of life and death.”

He slowly stood up and looked down at Aberforth, who was trembling slightly with emotion: "I can bring Ariana's soul back to this world briefly to speak with you, and if conditions permit, I may even find a way to bring her back truly."

He paused deliberately, allowing the possibility to take root in the old man's mind.

Aberforth's hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The struggle in his eyes was clearly visible. Reason told him that this might be a trap, but the longing and guilt he felt for his sister deep in his heart were like a flood that had burst its banks, overwhelming all his defenses.

"what do you want?"

The old man finally asked in a hoarse voice, his tone filled with a do-or-die determination.

"No one would offer such a gift for no reason."

Genichi Yuzuru smiled, a smile devoid of warmth, only the composure born of precise calculation: "Two things, the Elder Wand in your brother Albus's hand, and the Invisibility Cloak on Harry Potter."

"The Deathly Hallows?"

Aberforth's brow was furrowed.

"You want to collect all three Deathly Hallows? Why?"

"This is my business."

Genichi Hanyu responded coldly.

"You just need to decide whether Ariana's soul is worth your help."

The bar fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the oil lamp.

Aberforth's expression shifted in the dim light, his inner turmoil almost tangibly reflected on his weathered face.

Finally, the old man slowly raised his head, the hesitation in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve: "If I help you get the Elder Wand and the Invisibility Cloak, can you really bring Ariana back? Even if only temporarily..."

Genichi Hanyu pushed the crystal bottle toward Aberforth, watching as the old man carefully picked it up with trembling hands: "It's not just a temporary return. With the complete Deathly Hallows, many impossibilities will become possible."

His voice was like the whisper of a demon, striking precisely at the most vulnerable part of Aberforth's heart.

“Think about it, Aberforth, a chance to make amends, a chance to prove to Albus that he made the wrong choice, a chance for Ariana to experience the beauty of the world.”

Aberforth's breathing became heavy, and the last shred of reason in his eyes was being consumed by fanatical hope.

He looked down at the wisp of silvery-blue mist dancing in the crystal bottle, as if he saw the dawn of salvation.

"I will consider."

The old man finally spoke, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

Genichi Hanyu knew that the deal was already more than halfway done.

He rose gracefully, leaving a Galleon on the bar: "Looking forward to your good news, Mr. Aberforth. Time waits for no one."

As he turned to walk toward the door, Aberforth's hoarse voice called out from behind, "If I agree to help you, when can I see Ariana?"

Genichi Hanyu didn't turn around, but slightly turned his head, letting the dim light outline the mysterious smile on his lips: "Soon, Mr. Aberforth, very soon."

110 is pitiful, Voldemort reduced to a prop.

Genichi Hanyu's figure slid silently into the Slytherin prefects' common room, as if blending into the shadows.

The warm, orange glow of the fireplace instantly dispelled the chill that had settled over Hogsmeade Village, illuminating Cassandra's delicate face, which was filled with concern and inquiry.

He had barely settled down beside the sofa when Cassandra rose and strode over to him, her eyes like searchlights fixed on him: "You're back? How did it go? Did Aberforth Dumbledore agree?"

Genichi Hanyu took off his outer robe, which was stained with the distinctive smell of mutton and cheap liquor from the Pig Head Bar, and casually draped it over the back of a chair.

He turned to meet Cassandra's gaze, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips: "He did not immediately agree."

Cassandra's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Genichi Hanyu waved his hand, his tone filled with absolute certainty: "However, I believe that this brother who loves his sister deeply will make the right choice for him."

His gaze was so deep it seemed to pierce through space, seeing in the old man in the Pig's Head Bar, holding the crystal bottle, the almost bursting ecstasy, struggle, and the inevitable resolute determination in his eyes.

"It's almost certain, it just needs some time for that desire to overwhelm the last vestiges of reason and doubt."

Upon hearing this, Cassandra remained silent for a moment, then finally sighed softly, a complex emotion appearing on her delicate face: "It seems that having a brother who is at the height of his power and radiant with brilliance is not entirely a blessing."

The implication in her words was self-evident.

Aberforth Dumbledore.

Living in the shadow of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard of the century, enduring comparisons from the world, and burdened by the pain of his sister's death and complex resentment towards his brother, Aberforth's life was undoubtedly suffocated by that heavy bloodline glory, to the point that he chose to exile himself to the filthy corner of the Hog's Head.

"The gifts of fate have always come with a price tag attached."

Genichi Hanyu's voice carried a hint of cold insight.

"One of the costs of Albus's greatness is the obscurity and suffering of Aberforth, and we can use this suffering to leverage what we need."

Cassandra nodded, steer the conversation back on track: "Now that things are basically settled on Aberforth's side, you'd better get Quirrell back as soon as possible. Voldemort's remnant soul is still in your hands, but Quirrell, as the vessel and the actor, is an indispensable character in the next play. Without him, our carefully prepared script can't be performed."

"Simple."

Upon hearing this, Genichi Hanyu gave a casual smile.

He didn't even take out his wand; he simply raised his right hand gracefully, pointed to the empty space in front of him, and snapped his fingers crisply and casually.

"Snapped!"

The moment the snap of the fingers landed, the firelight in the fireplace in the lounge seemed to flicker!

Immediately afterwards, a thick, inky black mist, twisted and irregular in shape, exuding a strong ominous aura, accompanied by a chilling cold that sent shivers down one's spine, appeared out of nowhere on the floor in front of Genichi Hanyu and Cassandra!

The black mist churned and struggled violently, and the outline of a human face distorted by pain and fear could be vaguely seen within it—it was Quirrell!

His soul form was even more wretched than in life, filled with weakness and chaos after being forcibly stripped of his body and repeatedly washed away by the laws of death.

Within the black mist, the portion belonging to Voldemort's remnant soul was even thinner and dimmer, like a candle flickering in the wind, tightly suppressed by Quirrell's own soul energy filled with resentment and fear. The two were entangled together in an extremely painful manner.

Cassandra's gaze was instantly drawn to the suddenly appearing black mist soul.

A hint of surprise flashed across her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper shock!

She could clearly sense Quirrell's chaotic soul fluctuations within the black mist, as well as Voldemort's suppressed evil aura!

This is not an illusion, but a real, tangible soul entity!

"Is this the soul?"

Cassandra's voice trembled slightly with disbelief.

She had seen ghosts, but ghosts were magical images carrying memories and emotions from their previous lives; they were another form of existence.

But the struggling black mist before us is the purest, most primal, and original soul essence stripped of all pretense and physical form!

It exudes the coldness, chaos, and pain of life's end, so vividly it's chilling.

As Hanyu Genichi looked at Cassandra's shocked expression, a knowing, almost divinely indifferent smile appeared on his lips.

He walked slowly to the struggling Quirrell soul, like a king surveying a lowly prisoner.