Harryâ€™s feet touched the road. He saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, and the mist line of black mountains beyond the village and the curve in the road ahead that led off toward Hogwarts, and light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks, and with a lurch of the hear, he remembered with piercing accuracy, how he had landed here nearly a year before, supporting a desperately weak Dumbledore, all this in a second, upon landing â€“ and then, even as he relaxed his grip upon Ronâ€™s and Hermioneâ€™s arms, it happened..cheap ball gowns.
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Six of the Death Eaters ran toward them: Harry, Ron and Hermione backed as quickly as possible down the nearest side street, and the Death Eaters missed them by inches. They waited in the darkness, listening to the footsteps running up and down, beams of light flying along the street from the Death Eatersâ€™ searching wands..Replica Christian Louboutin UK.
â€œLetâ€™s just leave!â€ Hermione whispered. â€œDisapparate now!â€.Replica Bvlgari Rings.
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â€œWeâ€™re going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!â€ Hermione whispered..cartier love ring replica.
Even as she said it, he felt the unnatural cold being spread over the street. Light was sucked from the environment right up to the stars, which vanished. In the pitch blackness, he felt Hermione take hold of his arm and together, they turned on the spot.
The air through which they needed to move, seemed to have become solid: They could not Disapparate; the Death Eaters had cast their charms well. The cold was biting deeper and deeper into Harryâ€™s flesh. He, Ron and Hermione retreated down the side street, groping their way along the wall trying not to make a sound. Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came dementors, ten or more of them, visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. Could they sense fear in the vicinity? Harry was sure of it: They seemed to be coming more quickly now, taking those dragging, rattling breaths he detested, tasting despair in the air, closing in - He raised his wand: He could not, would not suffer the Dementorâ€™s Kiss, whatever happened afterward. It was of Ron and Hermione that he thought as he whispered â€œExpecto Patronum!â€
The silver stag burst from his wand and charged: The Dementors scattered and there was a triumphant yell from somewhere out of sight
â€œItâ€™s him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus, it was a stag!â€
The Dementors have retreated, the stars were popping out again and the footsteps of the Death Eaters were becoming louder; but before Harry in his panic could decide what to do, there was a grinding of bolts nearby, a door opened on the left-side of the narrow street, and a rough voice said: â€œPotter, in here, quick!â€
He obeyed without hesitation, the three of them hurried through the open doorway.
â€œUpstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!â€ muttered a tall figure, passing them on his way into the street and slammed the door behind him.
Harry had had no idea where they were, but now he saw, by the stuttering light of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust bar of the Hogâ€™s Head Inn. They ran behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a trickery wooden staircase, that they climbed as fast as they could. The stairs opened into a sitting room with a durable carpet and a small fireplace, above which hung a single large oil painting of a blonde girl who gazed out at the room with a kind of a vacant sweetness.
Shouts reached from the streets below. Still wearing the Invisibility Cloak on, they hurried toward the grimy window and looked down. Their savior, whom Harry now recognized as the Hogâ€™s Headâ€™s barman, was the only person not wearing a hood.
â€œSo what?â€ he was bellowing into one of the hooded faces. â€œSo what? You send dementors down my street, Iâ€™ll send a Patronus back atâ€™em! Iâ€™m not havingâ€™em near me, Iâ€™ve told you that. Iâ€™m not having it!â€
â€œThat wasnâ€™t your Patronus,â€ said a Death Eater. â€œThat was a stag. It was Potterâ€™s!â€
â€œStag!â€ roared the barman, and he pulled out a wand. â€œStag! You idiot â€“ Expecto Patronum!â€
Something huge and horned erupted from the wand. Head down, it charged toward the High Street, and out of sight.
â€œThatâ€™s not what I sawâ€ said the Death Eater, though was less certainly â€œCurfewâ€™s been broken, you heard the noise,â€ one of his companions told the barman. â€œSomeone was out on the streets against regulations â€“ â€
â€œIf I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!â€
â€œYou set off the Caterwauling Charm?â€
â€œWhat if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door? Do it, then, if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you havenâ€™t pressed your little Dark Marks, and summoned him. Heâ€™s not going to like being called here, for me and my old cat, is he, now?â€
â€œDonâ€™t worry about us.â€ said one of the Death Eaters, â€œworry about yourself, breaking curfew!â€
â€œAnd where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pubâ€™s closed down? What will happen to your little sidelines then?â€
â€œAre you threatening â€“?â€
â€œI keep my mouth shut, itâ€™s why you come here, isnâ€™t it?â€
â€œI still say I saw a stag Patronus!â€ shouted the first Death Eater.
â€œStag?â€ roared the barman. â€œItâ€™s a goat, idiot!â€
â€œAll right, we made a mistake,â€ said the second Death Eater. â€œBreak curfew again and we wonâ€™t be so lenient!â€
The Death Eaters strode back towards the High Street. Hermione moaned with relief, wove out from under the Cloak, and sat down on a wobble-legged chair. Harry drew the curtains then pulled the Cloak off himself and Ron. They could hear the barman down below, rebolting the door of the bar, then climbing the stairs.
Harryâ€™s attention was caught by something on the mantelpiece: a small, rectangular mirror, propped on top of it, right beneath the portrait of the girl.
The barman entered the room.
â€œYou bloody fools,â€ he said gruffly, looking from one to the other of them. â€œWhat were you thinking, coming here?â€
â€œThank you,â€ said Harry. â€œYou canâ€™t thank you enough. You saved our lives!â€
The barman grunted. Harry approached him looking up into the face: trying to see past the long, stringy, wire-gray hair beard. He wore spectacles. Behind the dirty lenses, the eyes were a piercing, brilliant blue.
â€œItâ€™s your eye Iâ€™ve been seeing in the mirror.â€
There was a silence in the room. Harry and the barman looked at each other.
â€œYou sent Dobby.â€
The barman nodded and looked around for the elf.
â€œThought heâ€™d be with you. Whereâ€™ve you left him?â€
â€œHeâ€™s dead,â€ said Harry, â€œBellatrix Lestrange killed him.â€
The barman face was impassive. After a few moments he said, â€œIâ€™m sorry to hear it, I liked that elf.â€
He turned away, lightning lamps with prods of his wand, not looking at any of them.
â€œYouâ€™re Aberforth,â€ said Harry to the manâ€™s back.
He neither confirmed or denied it, but bent to light the fire.
â€œHow did you get this?â€ Harry asked, walking across to Siriusâ€™s mirror, the twin of the one he had broken nearly two years before.
â€œBought it from Dung â€˜bout a year ago,â€ said Aberforth. â€œAlbus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you.â€
â€œThe silver doe,â€ he said excitedly, â€œWas that you too?â€
â€œWhat are you talking about?â€ asked Aberforth.
â€œSomeone sent a doe Patronus to us!â€
â€œBrains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son. Havenâ€™t I just prove my Patronus is a goat?â€
â€œOh,â€ said Ron, â€œYeahâ€¦ well, Iâ€™m hungry!â€ he added defensively as his stomach gave an enormous rumble.
â€œI got food,â€ said Aberforth, and he sloped out of the room, reappearing moments later with a large loaf of bread, some cheese, and a pewter jug of mead, which he set upon a small table in front of the fire.
Ravenous, they ate and drank, and for a while there was sound of chewing.
â€œRight then,â€ said Aberforth when the had eaten their fill and Harry and Ron sat slumped dozily in their chairs. â€œWe need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Canâ€™t be done by night, you heard what happens if anyone moves outdoors during darkness: Caterwauling Charmâ€™s set off, theyâ€™ll be onto you like bowtruckles on doxy eggs. I donâ€™t reckon Iâ€™ll be able to pass of a stag as a goat a second time. Wait for daybreak when curfew lifts, then you can put your Cloak back on and set out on foot. Get right out of Hogsmeade, up into the mountains, and youâ€™ll be able to Disapparate there. Might see Hagrid. Heâ€™s been hiding in a cave up there with Grawp ever since they tried to arrest him.â€
â€œWeâ€™re not leaving,â€ said Harry. â€œWe need to get into Hogwarts.â€
â€œDonâ€™t be stupid, boy,â€ said Aberforth.
â€œWeâ€™ve got to,â€ said Harry.
â€œWhat youâ€™ve got to do,â€ said Aberforth, leaning forward, â€œis to get as far from here as from here as you can.â€
â€œYou donâ€™t understand. There isnâ€™t much time. Weâ€™ve got to get into the castle. Dumbledore â€“ I mean, your brother â€“ wanted us â€“ â€
The firelight made the grimy lenses of Aberforthâ€™s glasses momentarily opaque, a bright flat white, and Harry remembered the blind eyes of the giant spider, Aragog.
â€œMy brother Albus wanted a lot of things,â€ said Aberforth, â€œand people had a habit of getting hurt while he was carrying out his grand plans. You get away from this school, Potter, and out of the country if you can. Forget my brother and his clever schemes. Heâ€™s gone where none of this can hurt him, and you donâ€™t owe him anything.â€
â€œYou donâ€™t understand.â€ said Harry again.
â€œOh, donâ€™t I?â€ said Aberforth quietly. â€œYou donâ€™t think I understood my own brother? Think you know Albus better than I did?â€
â€œI didnâ€™t mean that,â€ said Harry, whose brain felt sluggish with exhaustion and from the surfeit of food and wine. â€œItâ€™sâ€¦ he left me a job.â€
â€œDid he now?â€ said Aberforth. â€œNice job, I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing youâ€™d expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?â€
Ron gave a rather grim laugh. Hermione was looking strained.
â€œI-itâ€™s not easy, no,â€ said Harry. â€œBut Iâ€™ve got to â€“ â€
â€œGot to? Why got to? Heâ€™s dead, isnâ€™t he?â€ said Aberforth roughly. â€œLet it go, boy, before you follow him! Save yourself!â€
â€œI â€“ â€ Harry felt overwhelmed; he could not explain, so he took the offensive instead. â€œBut youâ€™re fighting too, youâ€™re in the Order of the Phoenix â€“ â€
â€œI was,â€ said Aberforth. â€œThe Order of the Phoenix is finished. You-Know-Whoâ€™s won, itâ€™s over, and anyone whoâ€™s pretending differentâ€™s kidding themselves. Itâ€™ll never be safe for you here, Potter, he wants you too badly. So go abroad, go into hiding, save yourself. Best take these two with you.â€ He jerked a thumb at Ron and Hermione.
â€œTheyâ€™ll be in danger long as they live now everyone knows theyâ€™ve been working with you.â€
â€œI canâ€™t leave,â€ said Harry. â€œIâ€™ve got a job â€“ â€
â€œGive it to someone else!â€
â€œI canâ€™t. Itâ€™s got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all â€“ â€
â€œOh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?â€
Harry wanted him with all his heart to say â€œYes,â€ but somehow the simple word would not rise to his lips, Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking.
â€œI knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our motherâ€™s knee. Secrets and lies, thatâ€™s how we grew up, and Albusâ€¦ he was a natural.â€
The old manâ€™s eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was, now Harry looked around properly, the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore, nor of anyone else.
â€œMr. Dumbledoreâ€ said Hermione rather timidly. â€œIs that your sister? Ariana?â€
â€œYes.â€ said Aberforth tersely. â€œBeen reading Rita Skeeter, have you, missy?â€
Even by the rosy light of the fire it was clear that Hermione had turned red.
â€œElphias Doge mentioned her to us,â€ said Harry, trying to spare Hermione.
â€œThat old berk,â€ muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. â€œThought the sun shone out of my brotherâ€™s every ocrifice, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.â€
Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobbyâ€™s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want o hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforthâ€™s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothersâ€™: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it.
â€œProfessor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,â€ said Hermione in a low voice.
â€œDid he now?â€ said Aberforth. â€œFunny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if heâ€™d left â€˜em well alone.â€
â€œWhat do you mean?â€ asked Hermione breathlessly.
â€œNever you mind,â€ said Aberforth.
â€œBut thatâ€™s a really serious thing to say!â€ said Hermione. â€œAre you â€“ are you talking about your sister?â€
Aberforth glared at her: His lips moved as if he were chewing the words he was holding back. Then he burst into speech.
â€œWhen my sister was six years old, she was attacked, by three Muggle boys. Theyâ€™d seen her doing magic, spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid, she couldnâ€™t control it, no witch or wizard can at that age. What they saw, scared them, I expect. They forced their way through the hedge, and when she couldnâ€™t show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it.â€
Hermioneâ€™s eyes were huge in the firelight; Ron looked slightly sick. Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain.
â€œIt destroyed her, what they did: She was never right again. She wouldnâ€™t use magic, but she couldnâ€™t get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldnâ€™t control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless.â€
â€œAnd my father went after the bastards that did it,â€ said Aberforth, â€œand attacked them. And they locked him up in Azkaban for it. He never said why heâ€™d done it, because the Ministry had known what Ariana had become, sheâ€™d have been locked up in St. Mungoâ€™s for good. Theyâ€™d have seen her as a serious threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, unbalanced like she was, with magic exploding out of her at moments when she couldnâ€™t keep it in any longer.â€
â€œWe had to keep her safe and quiet. We moved house, put it about she was ill, and my mother looked after her, and tried to keep her calm and happy.â€
â€œI was her favourite,â€ he said, and as he said it, a grubby schoolboy seemed to look out through Aberforthâ€™s wrinkles and wrangled beard. â€œNot Albus, he was always up in his bedroom when he was home, reading his books and counting his prizes, keeping up with his correspondence with the most notable magical names of the day,â€
Aberforth succored. â€œHe didnâ€™t want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could get her to eat when she wouldnâ€™t do it for my mother, I could calm her down, when she was in one of her rages, and when she was quiet, she used to help me feed the goats.â€
â€œThen, when she was fourteenâ€¦ See, I wasnâ€™t there.â€ said Aberforth. â€œIf Iâ€™d been there, I could have calmed her down. She had one of her rages, and my mother wasnâ€™t as young as she was, andâ€¦ it was an accident. Ariana couldnâ€™t control it. But my mother was killed.â€
Harry felt a horrible mixture of pity and repulsion; he did not want to hear any more, but Aberforth kept talking, and Harry wondered how long it had been since he had spoken about this; whether, in fact, he had ever spoken about it.
â€œSo that put paid to Albusâ€™s trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of â€˜em came home for my motherâ€™s funeral and then Doge went off on his own, and Albus settled down as head of the family. Ha!â€
Aberforth spat into the fire.
â€œIâ€™d have looked after her, I told him so, I didnâ€™t care about school, Iâ€™d have stayed home and done it.
He told me I had to finish my education and heâ€™d take over from my mother. Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, thereâ€™s no prizes for looking after your half-mad sister, stopping her blowing up the house every other day. But he did all right for a few weeksâ€¦ till he came.â€œ
And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforthâ€™s face.
â€œGrindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all Wizardkind, and if one young girl neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good?â€
â€œBut after a few weeks of it, Iâ€™d had enough, I had. It was nearly time for me to go hack to Hogwarts, so I told â€˜em, both of â€˜em, face-to-face, like I am to you, now,â€ and Aberforth looked downward Harry, and it took a little imagination to see him as a teenager, wiry and angry, confronting his elder brother. â€œI told him, youâ€™d better give it up now. You canâ€™t move her, sheâ€™s in no fit state, you canâ€™t take her with you, wherever it is youâ€™re planning to go, when youâ€™re making your clever speeches, trying to whip yourselves up a following. He didnâ€™t like that.â€ said Aberforth, and his eyes were briefly occluded by the fireflight on the lenses of his glasses: They turned white and blind again. â€œGrindelwald didnâ€™t like that at all. He got angry. He told me what a stupid little boy I was, trying to stand in the way of him and my brilliant brotherâ€¦ Didnâ€™t I understand, my poor sister wouldnâ€™t have to be hidden once theyâ€™d changed the world, and led the wizards out of hiding, and taught the Muggles their place?â€
â€œAnd there was an argumentâ€¦ and I pulled my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me by my brotherâ€™s best friend â€“ and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldnâ€™t stand it â€“ â€
The color was draining from Aberforthâ€™s face as though he had suffered a mortal wound.
â€œ â€“ and I think she wanted to help, but she didnâ€™t really know what she was doing, and I donâ€™t know which of us did it, it could have been any of us â€“ and she was dead.â€
His voice broke on the last word and he dropped down into the nearest chair. Hermioneâ€™s face was wet with tears, and Ron was almost as pale as Aberforth. Harry felt nothing but revulsion: He wished he had not heard it, wished he could wash is mind clean of it.
â€œIâ€™m soâ€¦ Iâ€™m so sorry,â€ Hermione whispered.
â€œGone,â€ croaked Aberforth. â€œGone forever.â€
He wiped his nose on hiss cuff and cleared his throat.
â€œ â€˜Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didnâ€™t want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasnâ€™t he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the â€“ â€
â€œHe was never free,â€ said Harry.
â€œI beg your pardon?â€ said Aberforth.
â€œNever,â€ said Harry. â€œThe night that your brother died, he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. He started screaming, pleading with someone who wasnâ€™t there. â€˜Donâ€™t hurt them, pleaseâ€¦ hurt me instead.â€™ â€
Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry. He had never gone into details about what had happened on the island on the lake.
The events that had taken place after he and Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts had eclipsed it so thoroughly.
â€œHe thought he was back there with you and Grindelwald, I know he did,â€ said Harry, remembering Dumbledore whispering, pleading.
â€œHe thought he was watching Grindelwald hurting you and Arianaâ€¦ It was torture to him, if youâ€™d seen him then, you wouldnâ€™t say he was free.â€
Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands. After a long pause he said. â€œHow can you be sure, Potter, that my brother wasnâ€™t more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be sure you arenâ€™t dispensable, just like my little sister?â€
A shard of ice seemed to pierce Harryâ€™s heart.
â€œI donâ€™t believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry,â€ said Hermione.
â€œWhy didnâ€™t he tell him to hide, then?â€ shot back Aberforth. â€œWhy didnâ€™t he say to him, â€˜Take care of yourself, hereâ€™s how to surviveâ€™?â€
â€œBecause,â€ said Harry before Hermione could answer, â€œsometimes youâ€™ve got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes youâ€™ve got to think about the greater good! This is war!â€
â€œYouâ€™re seventeen, boy!â€
â€œIâ€™m of age, and Iâ€™m going to keep fighting even if youâ€™ve given up!â€
â€œWho says Iâ€™ve given up?â€
â€œThe Order of the Phoenix is finished,â€ Harry repeated, â€œYou-Know-Whoâ€™s won, itâ€™s over, and anyone whoâ€™s pretending differentâ€™s kidding themselves.â€
â€œI donâ€™t say I like it, but itâ€™s the truth!â€
â€œNo, it isnâ€™t.â€ said Harry. â€œYour brother knew how to finish You-Know-Who and he passed the knowledge on to me. Iâ€™m going to keep going until I succeed â€“ or I die. Donâ€™t think I donâ€™t know how this might end. Iâ€™ve known it for years.â€
He waited for Aberforth to jeer or to argue, but he did not. He merely moved.
â€œWe need to get into Hogwarts,â€ said Harry again. â€œIf you canâ€™t help us, weâ€™ll wait till daybreak, leave you in peace, and try to find a way in ourselves. If you can help us â€“ well, now would be a great time to mention it.â€
Aberforth remained fixed in his chair, gazing at Harry with the eye, that were so extraordinarily like his brotherâ€™s. At last he cleared his throat, got to his feet, walked around the little table, and approached the portrait of Ariana.
â€œYou know what to do,â€ he said.
She smiled, turned, and walked away, not as people in portraits usually did, one of the sides of their frames, but along what seemed to be a long tunnel painted behind her. They watched her slight figure retreating until finally she was swallowed by the darkness.
â€œEr â€“ what â€“?â€ began Ron.
â€œThereâ€™s only one way in now,â€ said Aberforth. â€œYou must know theyâ€™ve got all the old secret passageways covered at both ends, dementors all around the boundary walls, regular patrols inside the school from what my sources tell me. The place has never been so heavily guarded.
How you expect to do anything once you get inside it, with Snape in charge and the Carrows as his deputiesâ€¦ well, thatâ€™s your lookout, isnâ€™t it? You say youâ€™re prepared to die.â€œ
â€œBut whatâ€¦?â€ said Hermione, frowning at Arianaâ€™s picture.
A tiny white dot reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now Ariana was walking back toward them, growing bigger and bigger as she came. But there was somebody else with her now, someone taller than she was, who was limping along, looking excited. His hair was longer than Harry had ever seen. He appeared and torn. Larger and larger the two figures grew, until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait.
Then the whole thing swang forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to a real tunnel was revealed. And out of it, his hair overgrown, his face cut, his robes ripped, clambered the real Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled.
â€œI knew youâ€™d come! I knew it, Harry!â€
The Deathly Hallows
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .