𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟕 - 𝟏𝟐

"You're..." I began in disbelief.

"Yes, yes, Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother," Aberforth sighed.

"It was you?" Potter asked, but he sounded like he already knew the answer. "You sent Dobby to Malfoy Manor to save us?"

"Where have you left him?" Aberforth asked instead of answering the question directly.

"He's at Hogwarts," Potter replied. "He's hiding out in the kitchens."

"Hogwarts?" Aberforth repeated. "Shame. I liked that elf."

"He's safe there," Potter sad defensively.

"No one's safe there, not anymore," Aberforth muttered. A pregnant silence followed his words. Then he turned around and placed a platter of food and four glasses of butterbeer down on the table.

We all quickly took some, still starving and freezing from our little Gringotts adventure.

"Do you hear much?" I finally asked. "About everything going on, from the Order?" I was curious why Hogwarts wasn't safe, besides the fact that Snape was running it, and if there was any other important information we had missed.

"The Order's finished," Aberforth grunted. "You-Know-Who's won. Anyone who says otherwise is kidding themselves."

"We need to get into Hogwarts," Potter said firmly, as if he had not heard a word Aberforth just said. "Tonight. Dumbledore gave us a job to do."

"Did he now?" Aberforth asked, something like twisted humor in his words. "Nice job? Easy?"

"We've been hunting Horcruxes," Potter mumbled. "And we think the last one's in the castle, but we'll need your help getting in."

"That's not a job my brother's given you," Aberforth spat. "It's a suicide mission. Do yourself a favor, boy, and go home. Live a little longer."

"Dumbledore trusted me to see this through," Potter replied, sounding slightly angry now.

"And what makes you think you can trust him? What makes you think you can believe anything my brother told you?" Aberforth shot back, taking a step closer to him. I was watching with wide eyes, waiting for someone to explode first. "In all the time you knew him, did he ever mention my name?" Aberforth demanded. "Did he ever mention her's?"

He had gestured to the portrait above the mantel behind us, and my breath caught. Same face, same mouth, same eyes. This was Dumbledore's sister. That little girl who had passed away shortly after their mother. My breath caught.

"Why should he—" Potter began.

"Keep secrets?" Aberforth cut him off. "You tell me."

"I trusted him," Potter whispered.

"That's a boy's answer," Aberforth nearly shouted. "A boy who goes chasing Horcruxes on the words of a man who wouldn't even tell him where to start! You're lying! Not just to me, that doesn't matter. To yourself as well. That's what a fool does."

Aberforth was now nose to nose with Potter, and Potter's face was unreadable. "You don't strike me as a fool, Harry Potter," Aberforth continued mercilessly. "So, I'll ask you again, there must be a reason."

"I'm not interested in what happened between you and your brother," Potter started, a slight tremor in his voice that shattered my heart into a million pieces. "I don't care that you've given up. I trusted the man I knew. And we need to get into the castle tonight."

Aberforth stared at Potter for one long, tense moment. Then he looked away to the portrait of his sister. "You know what to do," he said. The girl nodded and began to walk away. Not like other portraits who left out the side of their frames, but she walked all the way down the path that had been painted behind her until she was one tiny pinprick in the distance, and then she was gone.