Rosabella's Point of View:
"C'mon, Ro! Please! Just one more!" Pavarti begged as I was about to set my guitar down.
To boost everyone's moral I decided to play a few songs now they never want me to stop.
Everyone who had been driven into hiding was crowded around me, all of them looking at me with puppy eyes to continue.
"Okay, okay. Last one." I said with a small laugh.
Everyone cheered and some whipped they're eyes.
"I would kill for a talent like yours, Ro." Lavender said wistfully.
I smiled at her.
"It's just a bit of fun." I said as I sat next to her and handed her a hot chocolate.
"Ha. You could go professional if you wanted. You could be bigger then the Weird Sisters." Lavender said and took a sip of her chocolate.
"Possibly but I want to do something worthwhile. Putting bad guys behind bars." I said.
Lavender laughed softly.
"You can't live unless your fighting someone." Lavender teased.
I gave her a mock offended look and we both chuckled.
"Quiets boring." I said and just after I said that the door burst open and Michael Corner vacate running in.
He looked frantic.
I groaned.
"I take it back. Let me retire on a bloody private island." I said and Lavender laughed again as we both stood up.
"Michael, what is it?" I asked running over to him.
"Ro, they have another first year locked in the Dungeon! I tried but I can't get to him!" Michael Corner said urgently.
"I'll handle it. Neville, you're in charge intill I get back." I said and I sprinted out if the Room of Requirement and then shifted to my Animagus form.
I stealthy made my way to the Dungeons.
Harry's Point Of View:
My feet touched the road. I 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. With a lurch of the heart, I remembered with piercing accuracy, how I had landed here nearly a year before, supporting a desperately weak Dumbledore and Rosabella. All this in a second, upon landing – and then, even as I relaxed my grip upon Ron's and Hermione's arms, it happened.
The air was rent by a scream that sounded like Voldemort's when he had realized the cup had been stolen. It tore at every nerve in my body, and I knew that our appearance had caused it.
Even as I looked at the other two beneath the Cloak, the door of the Three Broomsticks burst open and a dozen cloaked and hooded Death Eaters dashed into the streets, their wands aloft.
I seized Ron's wrist as he raised his wand. There were too many of them to run. Even attempting it would have give away their position. One of the Death Eaters raised his wand, and the scream stopped, still echoing around the distant mountains.
"Accio Cloak!" One of the Death Eaters roared.
I seized my folds, but it made no attempt to escape. The Summoning Charm had not worked on it.
"Not under your wrapper, then, Potter? Spread out. He's here." The Death Eater yelled who had tried the charm and then to his fellows
Six of the Death Eaters ran toward us. Ron, Hermione and I backed as quickly as possible down the nearest side street, and the Death Eaters missed us by inches. We waited in the darkness, listening to the footsteps running up and down, beams of light flying along the street from the Death Eaters' searching wands.
"Let's just leave! Disapparate now!" Hermione whispered.
"Great idea." Ron said, but before I could reply, a Death Eater shouted:
"We know you are here, Potter, and there's no getting away! We'll find you!"
"They were ready for us. They set up that spell to tell them we'd come. I reckon they've done something to keep us here, trap us –" I whispered.
"What about dementors? Let'em have free rein, they'd find him quick enough!" Another Death Eater called.
"The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hands but his –" The first Death Eater said.
"'an dementors won't kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter's life, not his soul. He'll be easier to kill if he's been Kissed first!" The other Death Eater said.
There were noises of agreement. Dread filled me. To repel dementors we would have to produce Patronuses which would give us away immediately.
"We're going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!" Hermione whispered.
Even as she said it, I 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, I felt Hermione take hold of my arm and together, we turned on the spot.
The air through which we needed to move, seemed to have become solid. We could not Disapparate. The Death Eaters had cast their charms well. The cold was biting deeper and deeper into my flesh. Ron, Hermione and I retreated down the side street, groping our 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 our surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. Could they sense fear in the vicinity? I was sure of it. They seemed to be coming more quickly now, taking those dragging, rattling breaths I detested, tasting despair in the air, closing in. I raised my wand. I could not, would not suffer the Dementor's Kiss, whatever happened afterward. It was of the idea of possibly seeing Rosabella that I thought as I whispered "Expecto Patronum!"
The silver stag burst from my wand and charged. The Dementors scattered and there was a triumphant yell from somewhere out of sight.
"It's him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus, it was a stag!"
The Dementors have retreated, the stars were popping out again and the footsteps of the Death Eaters were becoming louder, but before I in my panic could decide what to do, there was a grinding of bolts nearby, a door opened on the left-side of the narrow street.
"Potter, in here, quick!" A rough voice said.
I obeyed without hesitation. The three of us hurried through the open doorway.
"Upstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!" A tall figure muttered, passing us on his way into the street and slammed the door behind him.
I had no idea where we were, but now I saw, by the stuttering light of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust bar of the Hog's Head Inn. We ran behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a trickery wooden staircase, that we climbed as fast as we 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, we hurried toward the grimy window and looked down. Our savior, whom I now recognized as the Hog's Head's barman, was the only person not wearing a hood.
"So what? So what? You send dementors down my street, I'll send a Patronus back at'em! I'm not having'em near me, I've told you that. I'm not having it!" The barman was bellowing into one of the hooded faces.
"That wasn't your Patronus. That was a stag. It was Potter's!" A Death Eater said.
"Stag! Stag! You idiot – Expecto Patronum!" The barman roared as he pulled out his wand.
Something huge and horned erupted from the wand. Head down, it charged toward the High Street, and out of sight.
"That's not what I saw." The Death Eater said, though was less certainly.
"Curfew's been broken, you heard the noise. Someone was out on the streets against regulations –" One of the Death Eaters companions told the barman.
"If I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!" The barman shouted.
"You set off the Caterwauling Charm?" A Death Eater asked
"What 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 haven't pressed your little Dark Marks, and summoned him. He's not going to like being called here, for me and my old cat, is he, now?" The barman said angrily.
"Don't worry about us. Worry about yourself, breaking curfew!" One of the Death Eaters said.
"And where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pub's closed down? What will happen to your little sidelines then?" The barman said.
"Are you threatening –?" A Death Eater said.
"I keep my mouth shut, it's why you come here, isn't it?" The barman said.
"I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" The first Death Eater shouted.
"Stag? It's a goat, idiot!" The barman roared.
"All right, we made a mistake. Break curfew again and we won't be so lenient!" The second Death Eater said
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. I drew the curtains then pulled the Cloak off myself and Ron. We could hear the barman down below, rebolting the door of the bar, then climbing the stairs.
My 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.
"You bloody fools. What were you thinking, coming here?" The barman said gruffly, looking from one of us to the other.
"Thank you. We can't thank you enough. You saved our lives!" I said.
The barman grunted.
I 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.
"It's your eye I've been seeing in the mirror." I said.
There was a silence in the room. The barman and I looked at each other.
"You sent Dobby." I said.
The barman nodded and looked around for the elf.
"Thought he'd be with you. Where've you left him?" The barman said.
"He's dead. Bellatrix Lestrange killed him." I said.
The barmans face was impassive.
"I'm sorry to hear it, I liked that elf." The barman said a few moments later.
The barman turned away, lightning lamps with prods of his wand, not looking at any of them.
"You're Aberforth." I said to the man's back.
He neither confirmed or denied it, but bent to light the fire.
"How did you get this?" I asked, walking across to Sirius's mirror, the twin of the one he had broken nearly two years before.
"Bought it from Dung 'bout a year ago. Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you." Aberforth said.
Ron gasped.
"The silver doe. Was that you too?" Ron said excitedly.
"What are you talking about?" Aberforth asked.
"Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!" Ron said
"Brains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son. Haven't I just prove my Patronus is a goat?" Aberforth said.
"Oh. Yeah . . . well, I'm hungry!" Ron said defensively as his stomach gave an enormous rumble.
"I got food." Aberforth said, 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, we ate and drank, and for a while there was sound of chewing.
"Right then. We need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Can't be done by night, you heard what happens if anyone moves outdoors during darkness. Caterwauling Charm's set off, they'll be onto you like bowtruckles on doxy eggs. I don't reckon I'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 you'll be able to Disapparate there. Might see Hagrid. He's been hiding in a cave up there with Grawp ever since they tried to arrest him." Aberforth said when we had eaten our fill and Ron and I sat slumped dozily in our chairs.
"We're not leaving. We need to get into Hogwarts." I said
"Don't be stupid, boy." Aberforth said.
"We've got to." I said.
"What you've got to do, is to get as far from here as you can." Aberforth said, leaning forward.
"You don't understand. There isn't much time. We've got to get into the castle. Dumbledore – I mean, your brother – wanted us —" I said.
The firelight made the grimy lenses of Aberforth's glasses momentarily opaque, a bright flat white, and I remembered the blind eyes of the giant spider, Aragog.
"My brother Albus wanted a lot of things, and 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. He's gone where none of this can hurt him, and you don't owe him anything." Aberforth said.
"You don't understand." I said again.
"Oh, don't I? You don't think I understood my own brother? Think you know Albus better than I did?" Aberforth said quietly.
"I didn't mean that. It's . . . he left me a job." I said and brain felt sluggish with exhaustion and from the surfeit of food and wine.
"Did he now? Nice job, I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing you'd expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?" Aberforth said.
Ron gave a rather grim laugh.
Hermione was looking strained.
"I - it's not easy, no. But I've got to –" I said.
"Got to? Why got to? He's dead, isn't he? Let it go, boy, before you follow him! Save yourself!" Aberforth said roughly.
"I can't." I stated.
"Why not?" Aberforth said.
"I —" I started to say but I felt overwhelmed.
I could not explain, so I took the offensive instead.
"But you're fighting too, you're in the Order of the Phoenix —"
"I was. The Order of the Phoenix is finished. You - Know - Who's won, it's over, and anyone who's pretending different's kidding themselves. It'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." Aberforth said and he jerked a thumb at Ron and Hermione.
"They'll be in danger long as they live now everyone knows they've been working with you." Aberforth finished.
"I can't leave. I've got a job —" I said.
"Give it to someone else!" Aberforth said.
"I can't. It's got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all —" I said.
"Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?" Aberforth said.
I wanted with all my heart to say "Yes," but somehow the simple word would not rise to my lips, Aberforth seemed to know what I was thinking.
"I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother's knee. Secrets and lies, that's how we grew up, and Albus. . . he was a natural." Aberforth said.
The old man's eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was, now I looked around properly, the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore, nor of anyone else.
"Mr. Dumbledore, is that your sister? Ariana?" Hermione said rather timidly.
"Yes. Been reading Rita Skeeter, have you, missy?" Aberforth said tersely.
Even by the rosy light of the fire it was clear that Hermione had turned red.
"Elphias Doge mentioned her to us." I said, trying to spare Hermione.
"That old berk." Aberforth muttered, taking another swig of mead.
"Thought the sun shone out of my brother's every ocrifice, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it." Aberforth said.
I kept quiet.
I did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled me for months now. I had made my choice while I dug Dobby's grave. I had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for me by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that I had not been told everything that I wanted to know, but simply to trust.
I had no desire to doubt again. I did not want o hear anything that would deflect me from my purpose. I met Aberforth's gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers'. The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and I thought that Aberforth knew what I was thinking and despised me for it.
"Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much." Hermione said in a low voice.
"Did he now? Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he'd left 'em well alone." Aberforth said.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
"Never you mind." Aberforth said.
"But that's a really serious thing to say! Are you – are you talking about your sister?" Hermione said.
Aberforth glared at her. His lips moved as if he were chewing the words he was holding back. Then he burst into speech.
He told us the truth about his sister.
She was attacked by three muggle boys when they saw her do magic. Ariana was only six. It had drove her to never use magic again. That's why Dumbledore's father killed three muggles and went to Azkaban for it because he never said why he did it. They kept Ariana hidden because if people found out about her she would have been locked up in Saint Mungo's.
When Ariana was fourteen she accidentally killed her mother in one of rages as Aberforth wasn't there to calm her down. Aberforth was apparently her favourite. Dumbledore had to take over caring for Ariana but he met Grindelwald and made his plans and Aberforth confronted them.
Grindelwald didn't like that.
Grindelwald used the torture Curse on Aberforth and Dumbledore tried to stop him. The three of them dueled and it was too much for Ariana and she wanted to help but one of the three of there spells hit her and she died.
Hermione's face was wet with tears, and Ron was almost as pale as Aberforth. I felt nothing but revulsion. I wished I had not heard it, wished I could wash my mind clean of it.
"I'm so . . . I'm so sorry." Hermione whispered.
"Gone. Gone forever." Aberforth croaked and he wiped his nose on his cuff and cleared his throat.
" 'Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn't want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn't he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the –" Aberforth said.
"He was never free." I said.
"I beg your pardon?" Aberforth said.
"Never. The night that your brother died, he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. He started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn't there. 'Don't hurt them, please . . . hurt me instead.'" I said.
Ron and Hermione were staring at me. Rosabella and I had never gone into details about what had happened on the island on the lake.
The events that had taken place after Rosabella, Dumbledore and I had returned to Hogwarts had eclipsed it so thoroughly.
"He thought he was back there with you and Grindelwald, I know he did. He thought he was watching Grindelwald hurting you and Ariana . . . It was torture to him, if you'd seen him then, you wouldn't say he was free." I said, remembering Dumbledore whispering, pleading.
Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands.
"How can you be sure, Potter, that my brother wasn't more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be sure you aren't dispensable, just like my little sister?" Aberforth said after a long pause.
A shard of ice seemed to pierce my heart.
"I don't believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry." Hermione said.
"Why didn't he tell him to hide, then? Why didn't he say to him, 'Take care of yourself, here's how to survive'?" Aberforth shot back.
"Because, sometimes you've got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes you've got to think about the greater good! This is war!" I said before Hermione could answer.
"You're seventeen, boy!" Aberforth said.
"I'm of age, and I'm going to keep fighting even if you've given up!" I said.
"Who says I've given up?" Aberforth demand.
"'The Order of the Phoenix is finished. You - Know - Who's won, it's over, and anyone who's pretending different's kidding themselves.'" I repeated.
"I don't say I like it, but it's the truth!" Aberforth said.
"No, it isn't. Your brother knew how to finish You - Know - Who and he passed the knowledge on to me. I'm going to keep going until I succeed – or I die. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years." I said.
I waited for Aberforth to jeer or to argue, but he did not. He merely moved.
"We need to get into Hogwarts. If you can't help us, we'll wait till daybreak, leave you in peace, and try to find a way in ourselves. If you can help us – well, now would be a great time to mention it." I said
Aberforth remained fixed in his chair, gazing at me with the eye, that were so extraordinarily like his brother's. At last he cleared his throat, got to his feet, walked around the little table, and approached the portrait of Ariana.
"You know what to do." Aberforth said.
Ariana 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.
We watched her slight figure retreating until finally she was swallowed by the darkness.
"Er – what –?" Ron began.
"There's only one way in now. You must know they'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 deputies. . . well, that's your lookout, isn't it? You say you're prepared to die." Aberforth said.
"But what. . .?" Hermione said, frowning at Ariana's picture.
A tiny white dot reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now Ariana was walking back toward us, 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 I 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.
"I knew you'd come! I knew it, Harry!" An all too familiar voice exclaimed excitedly.