Limited Oxygen Supply and Drinking A Lake Dry

(Y/N)'s POV

This lake was freezing, the bracing cold enveloped my whole body, the chill was like a set of chains that were weighing me down, making my muscles feel sore and slow. That was at least they probably would be when I could move them.

It felt like longer, but it was probably just a few seconds. My arms were squeezed to my side and my legs refused to cooperate, as I hit the surface, I saw Harry break it with a deep breath as he rose out of the lake.

My skin was sore and still burned, the unclean lake water made every burn feel like the skin was being peeled off, the blisters and scorches across my body were soothed at first by the sudden rush of water, but had quickly become like a terrible itch or rash I couldn't scratch.

As I slipped deeper into the depths, I saw Ron flailing a few inches beneath the water, grasping at the water to find fresh air and I wished I could do the same. Hermione had submerged somewhere behind me so I couldn't see her, but I imagine she was doing a lot better then I was.

My eyes were forced open, and anyone who has tried to open their eyes in a pool knows how painful that was after a while, and lake water was a lot worse than pool water. I felt like they were on fire.

The lake itself wasn't very deep, but it was enough to drown in, and that was all I was concerned with at this moment. My mouth was open, so the water flooded inside my nose and mouth without any resistance.

Worst of all was the rate at which I was sinking because I had impacted the lake so fast, I was sinking faster then I should have been, still unable to move. I couldn't even shut my eyes to concentrate on the counter spell.

I had just begun to panic when my arms and legs were suddenly released, and I began clawing my way to the surface. My brain was scrambling for a way out of this scenario. I got as far as, 'try to go up' before the lack of air stopped the thoughts in my head.

I forced my mouth shut, but it was too late to make a difference, I looked up, through the murky blue and green of the water and made out some figures treading water, assuming it was one of the others, that was what I aimed for.

As my limbs started feeling heavy and tired I cried out in my thoughts, begging, pleading for someone to pull me to the surface, to rescue me before I ran out of air. Then two noises erupted into my head.

The first wasn't as concerning as the second, I had heard it before in times like this, a ticking noise paraded through my head as if the pocket watch that made the noise was lodged somewhere in my skull.

It was like Dumbledore's watch was taunting me, I could feel it hitting both sides of my eardrums. The only plus side to hearing it was that it almost drowned out the second, more concerning noise.

My ears had begun to ring faintly, slowly increasing in both volume and pitch, as I felt more and more bubbles rise and escape my mouth in front of me my vision seemed to get narrow, white light started to encroach on my vision.

It might have been a hallucination or my mind wishing to be saved but I thought I saw figures staring at me from the surface of the water, two or three of them I think, it was like I was in a puddle and they were stood above it staring at me.

As the ticking was drowned out by the ringing in my ears, I realised it wasn't Harry, Ron, or Hermione like I first thought. Their bodies were disturbed whenever the water was, as if they were reflections on the surface.

I couldn't make out the figures faces, but I knew they had not been there a second ago, but I didn't care, I was too desperate. I reached up as a cry for help, but they did not move.

After a few more seconds, the ringing was so loud it was all I could hear, like the chorus of my body screaming out for help. That and the voice in the back of my mind saying " knew I should have packed my floaties!"

The light took over my vision entirely, it was all I could see, it was a scary thought, but I was so tired I almost debated giving up and just remaining submerged.

As my vision faded my mind started to wonder, what would it be like if I just stopped fighting for air. If I just laid myself to rest here wouldn't it be so much nicer then suffering through and fighting for air I'd never reach.

Before I came to a conclusive answer two sets of arms wrenched me upwards and my face broke the surface, air rushing to my opened mouth. I was no more then dead weight as the others pulled me out of the lake.

In the span of the next two seconds I felt myself lying on the ground somewhere, then my vision returned to me. I took a deep breath and this air was the cleanest I had ever tasted, maybe because of desperation for it, but still.

I felt the warm sun on my skin, but then a deep burning pain in my chest like I had swallowed a gallon of firewhiskey, then instinctively I turned and coughed up what felt like another gallon of greenish water.

When I had regained enough sense and oxygen to speak, I looked up to see Harry and Hermione beside me and I said, "What. The hell. Just happened!" followed by another fit of coughing as they looked at me with worry.

"I wanted to get you off the dragon, you said you wouldn't jump!" said Hermione, "So...I just thought I'd make it easier..." she trailed off timidly. "WHAT!" I said, my throat still sore and my body now both shaking from rage and the cold.

"WHY?" "I thought-" "I almost died!" I screamed before coughing again, water spilling out my nose and mouth still. I stumbled to my feet and shook off like a dog, it didn't help. I transformed into my other form, but to my dismay, my hand didn't transform with me.

Harry, Hermione and Ron looked befuddled as they watched a soaking wet panther stumble across the bank of a lake and almost flail into a nearby tree. But the shaking worked much better in this form.

My mind had started to clear, and the notion that I actually could have handled that a lot better started to dawn on me, a few solutions popped into my head. I forgot I still had my wand clutched in my hand.

I could have used the bubble head charm, I could have pulled a Harry and rocketed myself out of the water, hell even my cat form would have been a better swimmer then I had been. But these thoughts, while they did put me at ease, didn't make me any less upset as I changed back.

"Hermione...never do that again" I shivered, soaked to my socks. My teeth were chattering, "I'm so sorry! It's this wand, I'm not used to it, the spell wouldn't release in time." I walked away so I could form a large enough circle to do the enchantments.

As I re-attached my hand and raised my wand to start them, I turned back to her. "Well Hermione, next time I jump off a dragon. LET ME DO IT AT MY OWN PACE!" I said, enraged. As I got to work, they sat down.

They began pulling something from Hermione's handbag. When I had finished and finally shook the water out my ears, I joined the others. They hadn't bothered to set up the tent, probably too tired to do so. But they sat on rocks around a small familiar jar of Bluebell flames.

It was the first time that I had looked at them properly since escaping from the vault. Just seeing them drew attention to my own burns, which seemed to sting in sympathy whenever my eyes traced over some of theirs.

As for mine, burns traced by entire torso and up and down my arms and legs, they didn't hurt, nothing really did recently, but they sort of ached instead. I had only just realised that they were even causing discomfort. The others didn't seem as unfazed.

They had angry red burns all over their faces and arms, and their clothing was singed away in places. They were wincing as they dabbed essence of dittany onto their many injuries.

It was comical in a way, some of the burns across our bodies had patterns or symbols across them from the multiple surfaces of the treasures. I think I had a few different house crests across my thighs.

Hermione handed Harry the bottle, who then passed it to me, it was not easy to apply for me, not because of the pain, rather the lack of it, only the burns that were visible were easy to treat, any others I had to search for, the pain wasn't telling me where my injuries were.

As I finished treating myself, Hermione pulled out four bottles of pumpkin juice she had brought from Shell Cottage and clean, dry robes for all of us. We changed and then gulped down the juice.

"Well, on the upside," said Ron finally, who was sitting watching the skin on his hands regrow, "we got the Horcrux. On the downside —" "— no sword," said Harry through gritted teeth, as he looked at the hole in his jeans and the angry burn beneath.

"No sword," repeated Ron. "That double-crossing little scab . . ." Harry pulled the Horcrux from the pocket of the wet jacket he had just taken off and set it down on the grass in front of us. Glinting in the sun, it drew our eyes as we swigged our bottles of juice.

"I could try burning it, but based on how the locket reacted, it could do anything, and I don't want it to spit it back at us or something" I said hopelessly. "At least we can't wear it this time, that'd look a bit weird hanging round our necks," said Ron, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"You could wear it as a hat" I offered. Hermione looked across the lake to the far bank, where the dragon was still drinking. "What'll happen to it, do you think?" she asked. "Will it be all right?"

"We could keep it. Just think of the look on the Death Eater's faces when we roll up on that thing." "You sound like Hagrid," said Ron. "I take that as the upmost compliment"

I smiled. "Wait, can dragon fire destroy a Horcrux?" I asked, hopeful that we had a solution to our problem on the other side of the lake. "Well, it couldn't destroy you or Harry. So I doubt it" said Ron, we glanced at Hermione

"I don't think so" said Hermione who looked at the creature "But it's blind, what if-" "It's a dragon, Hermione, it can look after itself. It's us we need to worry about." snapped Ron.

"What do you mean?" "Well, I don't know how to break this to you," said Ron, "but I think they might have noticed we broke into Gringotts." All of us started to laugh, and once started, it was difficult to stop.

As I laughed a memory fluttered into my head, it made me laugh even more. So much the others looked at me quite concerned with the almost deranged laughter. I looked to Hermione, recalling all the injuries I had sustained in Gringotts.

"What's so funny?" she enquired, "Kept my promise. What do I get as a reward?" I giggled. She was confused, "Well, I only got burned by the treasure, not anything else. If we ignore the free scuba diving lesson."

"What are you talking about?" I shrugged, "Told you I wouldn't get hurt this time" I laughed manically, Ron shared a confused glance with me, Harry just smiled unknowingly. But Hermione snorted with laughter.

"Idiot..." she sighed, scooting closer to me, and resting her still damp hair against my shoulder, I assume as a sort of apology for the incident with her new wand. I smiled and flicked her with some water as payback, but this simple bliss ended soon after it began.

"What are we going to do, though?" said Hermione finally, hiccupping herself back to seriousness. "He'll know, won't he? You-Know-Who will know we know about his Horcruxes!" "Maybe they'll be too scared to tell him?" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe they'll cover up —"

"Nah, he'll know, he's not stupid, he'll figure out Dumbledore probably warned Harry, and if someone goes to all the trouble of splitting their soul, they'd be paranoid about keeping them safe wouldn't they? This is all the confirmation he needs." As I finished the thought, Harry almost collapsed.

He was swaying on the log he sat on, and tumbled forward, almost hitting his head on the jar. He was clutching his scar, I looked to the others and this was all the information we needed to understand his connection with Voldemort had opened again.

I rested his head in a comfortable position, but that was all we could really do to help. So we just chatted amongst ourselves to pass the time, Ron was moaning about Griphook, Hermione tried to get a handle on her wand and I just sat there enjoying their company.

I looked over the lake to the spot in which I had seen the mysterious figures, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was just Harry and Hermione on their way to drag me out of the lake. But in my gut, I knew that wasn't the case.

Looking further past the point my eyes focused on the dragon that was drinking it's fill nearby, lowering the level of water in the lake second by second. It was oddly therapeutic to watch, like seeing an animal in the wild.

"I'm going to name you...Greg" I said, I thought it was in my head, but apparently not. "No! Don't start naming it!" Hermione scolded. "It is not a pet!"

Ron scoffed "Greg? Not Ezekial or Persephone or some other posh name like everything else you've named" I shook my head, "Well, I think after everything it's been through, it deserves a normal name, for a normal life."

"What if it's a girl?" said Hermione. "You're right, it might be a girl, I remember Charlie said female dragons are more ferocious, so how about..." I thought of something genius.

"Rory." They both looked at me funny. "Y'know, like roar because it's a dragon. But anyone can have that name, so it doesn't matter what gender it is, the name is unisex."

"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Well, there's multiple ways to look at it, It can be short for stuff, like 'Aurora' or 'Lorie' or just 'Rory' for either, it all fits regardless of gender" They both shrugged and moved on, so I occupied myself with other stuff.

I pulled Dumbledore's pocket watch out of its place in my belt, holding it in my hand, I looked it over but saw no change, no indicator that this was anything other then an ornate timepiece.

But Harry thought his snitch was hiding the Resurrection Stone, Ron's Deluminator had led him back to us just in time to save Harry and destroy a Horcrux, Hermione's book had led us to the trail of the Deathly Hallows. What secrets was this object hiding within its ticking pieces?

Harry's POV

"What did you say to me?" My voice was high and cold, but fury and fear burned inside me. The one thing I had dreaded – but it could not be true, I could not see how...The goblin was trembling, unable to meet the red eyes high above his.

"Say it again!" murmured Voldemort. "Say it again!" "M – my Lord," stammered the goblin, its black eyes wide with terror, "m – my Lord ... we t – tried t – to st – stop them ... im – impostors, my Lord ... broke – broke into the – into the Lestranges' v – vault ..."

"Impostors? What impostors? I thought Gringotts had ways of revealing impostors? Who were they?" "It was ... it was ... the P–Potter b–boy and t–three accomplices ..." "And they took?" I said, my voice rising, a terrible fear gripping me.

"Tell me! What did they take?" "A ... a s – small golden c – cup m – my Lord ... among other t-trinkets" A scream of rage, of denial, left me as if it were a stranger's: I was crazed, frenzied, it could not be true, it was impossible, nobody had ever known.

How was it possible that the boy could have discovered my secret? The Elder Wand slashed through the air and green light erupted through the room, the kneeling goblin rolled over, dead, the watching wizards scattered before me, terrified.

Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy threw others behind them in their race for the door, and again and again my wand fell, and those who were left were slain, all of them, for bringing him this news, for hearing about the golden cup.

The vision ended with a blade of pure silver disappearing from the hands of a dead goblin as it was made limp by a sinister flash of green.

(Y/N)'s POV

When Harry finally came to, he only said two words and my worst suspicions were confirmed "He knows." I took a deep breath as thoughts started to race around my head about breaking any extra defences he put up to guard them.

"He knows, and he's going to check where the others are, and the last one," Harry was already on his feet, "is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it." "What?" Ron was gaping at him; Hermione sat up, looking worried.

"But what did you see? How do you know?" "I saw him find out about the cup, I — I was in his head, he's...he's seriously angry, and scared too, he can't understand how we knew, and now he's going to check the others are safe, the ring first."

"He thinks the Hogwarts one is safest, because Snape's there, because it'll be so hard not to be seen getting in, I think he'll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours —" "Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?" asked Ron, now scrambling to his feet too.

"No, he was concentrating on warning Snape, he didn't think about exactly where it is —" I sighed, "Well, I wasn't expecting a showcase, but that's annoying, we're going to have to figure it out ourselves."

"So nothing new then?" said Ron, I nodded. "If I was hiding a piece of my soul in Hogwarts, where would I put it?" I thought aloud, "Filch's office, a classroom that means a lot to me, the forbidden forest , a bathroom-"

"He wouldn't do a bathroom; he's already hidden one there" said Harry. "Fair point. He was a prefect, weren't he? Prefects bathroom maybe? Or a teacher's office, he liked Slughorn. Maybe in his?" I pondered.

"Oh forget it, we can just kick lumps out of Snape until he helps us find it" I said, checking my belt was on tight enough and securing Dumbledore's pocket watch tied around my neck.

"Wait, wait!" cried Hermione as Ron caught up the Horcrux and Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak again. "We can't just go, we haven't got a plan, we need to —"

"We need to get going," said Harry firmly. "Can you imagine what he's going to do once he realises the ring and the locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux, decides it isn't safe enough?"

"And besides, as much as I like making plans Hermione, almost all our plans go off the rails in the end, sometimes literally, so is there any point in even making one this time?" I reasoned. "But how are we going to get in?" she said.

"We'll go to Hogsmeade," said Harry, "and try to work something out once we see what the protection around the school's like. Get under the Cloak, Hermione, I want to stick together this time."

"But we don't really fit —" "It'll be dark, no one's going to notice our feet." The flapping of enormous wings echoed across the black water: The dragon had drunk its fill and risen into the air. "Bye Rory!" I waved.

We paused in our preparations to watch it climb higher and higher, now black against the rapidly darkening sky, until it vanished over a nearby mountain.

Hermione walked forward and took her place between us all. Harry pulled the Cloak down as far as it would go, and together we turned on the spot into the crushing darkness.

As we touched down, I saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street: dark shop fronts, and the outline of black mountains beyond the village, and the curve in the road ahead that led off toward Hogwarts.

The light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks illuminated the streets that me and my friends had walked through during simpler times that felt like a million years ago, even now the smell of Butterbeer wafted through the air.

Then it happened. The air was split by a scream that sounded like Moaning Myrtle and The Fat Lady having a sing off. It was almost as loud as the roars of the dragon; we knew immediately that our appearance had caused it.

Before we could understand what had happened Three Broomsticks burst open and a dozen cloaked and hooded Death Eaters dashed into the street, their wands aloft. We were stuck, staying still as statues in the middle of the street.

"They just wear those as they go about their everyday lives? Or where they having a costume party at the bar?" I thought as they trudged out onto the street towards us. I raised my wand and took a deep breath.

Harry seized Ron's wrist as he raised his wand, I stopped with him; there were too many of them to Stun: Even attempting it would give away our position. Instead I used a charm to muffle the sound of our breathing as the Death Eaters swept across the street.

One of the Death Eaters waved his wand and the scream stopped, still echoing around the distant mountains. "Accio Cloak!" roared another. Harry seized its folds, but it made no attempt to escape: The Summoning Charm had not worked on it.

"Not under your wrapper, then, Potter?" yelled the Death Eater who had tried the charm, and then to his fellows, "Spread out. He's here."

Six of the Death Eaters ran toward us: we 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. My hand grasped for Hermione's, lacing her fingers in mine as a comfort in the silence.

"Let's just leave!" Hermione whispered. "Disapparate now!" "Great idea," said Ron, but before Harry could reply a Death Eater shouted, "We know you're here, Potter, and there's no getting away! We'll find you!"

"They were ready for us," whispered Harry. "They set up that spell to tell them we'd come. I reckon they've done something to keep us here, trap us —"

I looked upwards, and sure enough, the same cloud that had trapped me outside Grimmauld Place was swirling in the sky. "What about Dementors?" called another Death Eater and I almost gasped loudly, Hermione's hand squeezing mine in worry.

"Let 'em have free rein, they'd find him quick enough!" "The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hand but his —" "— 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!"

Any hopes I had of escaping this without a fight were dashed, there was no way we could produce a patronus without outing ourselves and then for all we knew they could call Voldemort himself to descend upon us.

"We're going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!" Hermione whispered.Even as she said it, I felt the unnatural cold begin to steal over the street. A chill slithered up my spine as my back pressed firmly to a wall.

Light was sucked from the environment right up to the stars, which vanished. In the pitch-blackness, Hermione took hold of our arms and together, we turned on the spot.

Just as it had before we seemed to be rooted to the spot, as if any intention to leave was reversed as if we were snapped back to the spot we were in like a bungee cord had tethered us to this location. "We need to leave. Now!" I said urgently as the cold got more intense.

There was a ticking sound through the darkness, a sinking feeling hit me as we went to step from the alley. I grabbed the others and pulled them back. Something compelled me to stay.

They looked at me in shock, I shook my head, "Not now" I whispered. I waited for a beat, another. Then the ticking stopped. I knew that this was the best time to leave.

"Now!" We retreated down the side street, groping along the wall, trying not to make a sound. Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came Dementors, ten or more of them.

They invaded the street like ravenous birds, scanning the skies for prey. If we had gone at the first moment, we would have collided with them.

The only reason they were visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands.

The terrifying presence that surrounded them was palpable, I could already her the cracking of a broomstick in the back of my head and a scream that shook me to my core. Overpowering the sound of the watch in my minds eye...ear?

The Dementors descended, could they sense fear in the vicinity? Were they aware of the buffet that was standing feet away, were they drawn to me just as Dumbledore and Lupin had predicted?

I noticed they were like rabid dogs sniffing the air, their heads and bodies turning as they tried to catch a scent. They seemed to be coming more quickly now, taking dragging, rattling breaths, tasting despair on the air, closing in.

More out of fear and reflex I raised my wand, thinking back to happy memories, wanting to protect the others and most of all fearing the Dementor's Kiss. But I was not the first to act.

Harry's POV

It was Ron, (Y/N) and Hermione in my thoughts 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 had retreated, the stars were popping out again, and the footsteps of the Death Eaters were becoming louder.

Before I could decide what to do (Y/N) stopped us in the street, "Wait." was all he said, to my amazement there was a grinding of bolts nearby, a door opened on the left-hand side of the narrow street, and a rough voice said, "Potter, in here, quick!"

We obeyed without hesitation: The four of us hurtled through the open doorway. "Upstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!" muttered a tall figure, passing us on his way into the street and slamming the door behind him.

I had had no idea where we were, but now I saw, by the stuttering light of a single candle, the grubby, sawdust-strewn bar of the Hog's Head Inn. We ran behind the counter and through a second doorway, which led to a rickety wooden staircase that we climbed as fast as we could.

The stairs opened onto a sitting room with a threadbare 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 vacant sweetness.

Shouts reached us from the street below. Still wearing the Invisibility Cloak, we crept toward the grimy window and looked down.

Our saviour, whom I now recognised as the Hog's Head's barman, was the only person not wearing a hood. "So what?" he was bellowing into one of the hooded faces.

"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!" "That wasn't your Patronus!" said a Death Eater. "That was a stag, it was Potter's!"

"Stag!" roared the barman, and he pulled out a wand. "Stag! You idiot — Expecto Patronum!" 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 —" said the Death Eater, though with less certainty. "Curfew's been broken, you heard the noise," one of his companions told the barman. "Someone was out in the street against regulations —"

"If I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!" "You set off the Caterwauling Charm?" "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?" "Don't you worry about us," said one of the Death Eaters, "worry about yourself, breaking curfew!"

"And where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pub's closed down? What'll happen to your little side-lines then?" "Are you threatening — ?"

"I keep my mouth shut, it's why you come here, isn't it?" "I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" shouted the first Death Eater. "Stag?" roared the barman. "It's a goat, idiot!"

"All right, we made a mistake," said the second Death Eater. "Break curfew again and we won't be so lenient!" The Death Eaters strode back toward the High Street.

(Y/N) stumbled out of the cloak as if he were drunk and fumbled with his magic belt. Hermione moaned with relief, wove out from under the Cloak, and sat down on a wobble-legged chair.

I drew the curtains tight shut, then pulled the Cloak off myself and Ron. I could hear the barman down below, re-bolting 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," he said gruffly, looking from one to the other of them. "What were you thinking, coming here?" "Thank you," I said gratefully "We can't thank you enough. You saved our lives."

"Wait!" said (Y/N), throwing a small vial of water in the man's face like someone would throw a drink at someone they didn't like.

I was too shocked to move, Ron barely stifled a gasp, the man didn't seem to care, but hit (Y/N) on the head with an old dishrag. "Ow!" (Y/N) exclaimed, rubbing his forehead, but then overlooking it completely.

"You still owe me that gigglewater" he scowled the barkeep, who simply "That you have yet to pay for" (Y/N) scoffed and replied, "Actually, that reminds me. How much did this place cost you?" He didn't get an answer.

Hermione leapt to her feet and dragged him away from the man, scolding him in undertone. "What are you doing! He's helping us!" she hissed. (Y/N) held up an empty vial.

"It's from the Thief's Downfall, I'm checking he's not imperiused, or worse." He said, making a snake motion with his hand, "It could have been a trap like with Rosmerta. You're welcome!"

The barman grunted. I approached him, looking up into the face, trying to see past the long, stringy, wire-gray hair and beard. The water had helped me look past the dirt and grime 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." There was silence in the room, the barman and I looked at each other. "You sent Dobby." The barman nodded and looked around for the elf. "Thought he'd be with you. Where've you left him?"

"He's dead," I said quickly. "Bellatrix Lestrange killed him." It pained me to say it, but the barman's face was impassive. After a few moments he said, "I'm sorry to hear it. I liked that elf." He turned away, lighting lamps with prods of his wand, not looking at any of us.

"You're Aberforth," I said to the man's back. He neither confirmed nor denied it, but bent to light the fire. "How did you get this?" I enquired, walking across to Sirius's mirror, the twin of the one I had broken nearly two years before.

"Bought it from Dung 'bout a year ago," said Aberforth. "Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you." Ron gasped. "The silver doe!" he said excitedly. "Was that you too?" "What are you talking about?" said Aberforth. "Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!"

"Brains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son. Haven't I just proved my Patronus is a goat?" "Oh," said Ron. "Yeah . . . well, I'm hungry!" he added defensively as his stomach gave an enormous rumble.

"Nice recovery mate" said (Y/N), strolling over to admire the painting. "Who's this? Your wife? She's very pretty." He observed, giving the painting a little wave. It did not act, simply smiling down at him vacantly, and Aberforth changed the subject.

"I got food," 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.

(Y/N)'s POV

"FOOD!" I thought as I gnawed into what I was given. Changing it with magic to suit my needs if I needed, that, and to add a bit more flavour. Ravenous, we ate and drank, and for a while there was silence but for the crackle of the fire, the clink of goblets, and the sound of chewing.

"Right then," said Aberforth when we had eaten our fill. "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 off 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." "We're not leaving," said Harry. "We need to get into Hogwarts."

"Don't be stupid, boy," said Aberforth. "We've got to," said Harry. "What you've got to do," said Aberforth, leaning forward, "is to get as far from here as you can." "Fat chance, there's still clouds" I said, peeking out the window.

"You don't understand. There isn't much time. We've got to get into the castle. Dumbledore — I mean, your brother — wanted us —" "My brother Albus wanted a lot of things," said Aberforth.

"People have 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." "You don't understand," said Harry again. "Oh, don't I?" said Aberforth quietly.

"You don't think I understood my own brother? Think you knew Albus better than I did?" "I didn't mean that," said Harry "It's . . . he left me a job."

"Did he now?" said Aberforth. "Nice job, I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing you'd expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?" Ron gave a rather grim laugh. Hermione was looking strained. A small smile traced my lips.

"I-it's not easy, no," said Harry. "But I've got to —" " 'Got to'? Why 'got to'? He's dead, isn't he?" said Aberforth roughly. "Let it go, boy, before you follow him! Save yourself!" "I can't." "Why not?" "I —"

"Alright, listen you old git. I didn't even like the bloke, but we aren't making it this far and giving up when we get this close to finishing it!" He looked at me with a stern expression that I thought Albus had coined.

"As for how easy it's been, that doesn't matter, we got it done and we've been doing fine so far. So just because you're a grumpy old man that's given up doesn't mean we have to give up too."

He scowled at me until I said "People have died for this. Dobby died for this. So, we're seeing it through to the end, with or without your help."

"Still thinking of fighting are you boy?" I growled, I hated it when people apart from Moody called me 'boy' "Well, better then sitting around and waiting to die aint it?" I reasoned. Harry jumped on that. "But you're fighting too, you're in the Order of the Phoenix —"

"I was," said Aberforth. "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."

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." "Clocks already ticking for this little soldier" he said, jabbing a grubby finger at me, I had the sudden urge to curse him.

"Ministry's looking for you now boy, and that's not even the half of it, so are the Death Eaters and their goons. You're a dead man walking" "Better a walking dead man then an old coward sitting and accepting his fate" I spat back with an odd sense of déjà vu.

"I can't leave," said Harry. "I've got a job —" "Give it to someone else!" "I can't. It's got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all —" "Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?"

"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." The old man's eyes travelled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" said Hermione rather timidly. "Is that your sister? Ariana?" "Yes," said Aberforth tersely. "Been reading Rita Skeeter, have you, missy?"

Even by the rosy light of the fire it was clear that Hermione had turned red, I felt so stupid, I had not considered this possibility earlier, I didn't see the resemblance. "Elphias Doge mentioned her to us," said Harry, trying to spare Hermione.

"That old berk," muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. "Thought the sun shone out of my brother's every orifice, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it." His arm gestured to the others.

"Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much," said Hermione in a low voice. "Did he now?" said Aberforth. "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." "What do you mean?" asked Hermione breathlessly.

"Never you mind," said Aberforth. "But that's a really serious thing to say!" said Hermione. "Are you — are you talking about your sister?" Aberforth glared at her: His lips moved as if he were chewing the words he was holding back.

Then he burst into speech. "When my sister was six years old, she was attacked, set upon, by three Muggle boys. They'd seen her doing magic, spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid, she couldn'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 couldn't show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it."

Hermione's eyes were huge in the firelight; Ron looked slightly sick. Harry was taken aback and my stomach felt like it was rolling. I looked up to the portrait of the girl in question and felt a great swell of pity and anger.

For a single second, however fleeting it was, I understood, I understood why Death Eaters despised Muggles. To be capable of such cruelty towards a poor girl who couldn't help being different. It was like a fire was lit in my chest.

The feeling washed away as Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain. It made my momentary lapse in judgement and sudden anger feel like a raindrop in a thunderstorm.

"It destroyed her, what they did: She was never right again. She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn't control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous."

"But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless. "And my father went after the bastards that did it," said Aberforth, "and attacked them. And they locked him up in Azkaban for it."

"He never said why he'd done it, because if the Ministry had known what Ariana had become, she'd have been locked up in St. Mungo's for good."

"They'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 couldn't keep it in any longer."

"We 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."

"I was her favourite," he said, and as he said it, a grubby schoolboy seemed to look out through Aberforth's wrinkles and tangled beard, a swell of pride in his voice.

"Not 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,' "

Aberforth sneered. "He didn't want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could get her to eat when she wouldn't do it for my mother, I could get her to calm down when she was in one of her rages, and when she was quiet, she used to help me feed the goats."

"Then, when she was fourteen . . . See, I wasn't there," said Aberforth. "If I'd been there, I could have calmed her down. She had one of her rages, and my mother wasn't as young as she was, and . . . it was an accident. Ariana couldn't control it. But my mother was killed."

"So that put a stop to Albus's trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of 'em came home for my mother's funeral and then Doge went off on his own, and Albus settled down as head of the family. Ha!" Aberforth spat into the fire.

"I'd have looked after her, I told him so, I didn't care about school, I'd have stayed home and done it. He told me I had to finish my education and he'd take over from my mother."

"Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, there'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 weeks . . . till he came."

And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth's face. "Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to, someone just as bright and talented as he was."

My anger bubbled up at the name, reflecting the malice in Aberforth's words. I hated a man I had never met with a deep passion

"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 got neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good?"

"But after a few weeks of it, I'd had enough, I had. It was nearly time for me to go back to Hogwarts, so I told 'em, both of 'em, face-to-face, like I am to you, now," and Aberforth looked down at Harry.

"I told him, you'd better give it up now. You can't move her, she's in no fit state, you can't take her with you, wherever it is you're planning to go, when you're making your clever speeches, trying to whip yourselves up a following. He didn't like that," said Aberforth,

"Grindelwald didn'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 brother. . . ."

"Didn't I understand, my poor sister wouldn't have to be hidden once they'd changed the world, and led the wizards out of hiding, and taught the Muggles their place?"

"And there was an argument . . . and I pulled out my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me by my brother's best friend — and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were duelling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldn't stand it —"

As soon as he had explained that a duel had taken place, my mind had filled on the blanks, there was no need to hear more, but I was enthralled, captivated by this story, as if It would fill in all the blanks that Dumbledore had left us. Explain what he had not.

"— and I think she wanted to help, but she didn't really know what she was doing, and I don't know which of us did it, it could have been any of us — and she was dead." His voice broke on the last word and he dropped down into the nearest chair.

Hermione's face was wet with tears, and Ron was almost as pale as Aberforth. Harry looked like a ghost, I was shaking with both anger and frustration "I'm so . . . I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered. "Gone," croaked Aberforth. "Gone forever."

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 —"

"He was never free," said Harry. "I beg your pardon?" said Aberforth. "Never," said Harry. "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.' " We were staring at Harry; my blood ran cold. 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, "He thought he was back there with you and Grindelwald, I know he did," said Harry fiercely

"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." Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands.

After a long pause he said, "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?"

It was hard to argue with that, but they still made cases against the idea, "I don't believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry," said Hermione, though with a note of worry in her voice. "Why didn't he tell him to hide, then?" shot back Aberforth.

"Why didn't he say to him, 'Take care of yourself, here's how to survive'?" "Because," said Harry before Hermione could answer, "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!"

"You're seventeen, boy!" "I'm of age, and I'm going to keep fighting even if you've given up!" "Who says I've given up?" " 'The Order of the Phoenix is finished,' " Harry repeated. " 'You-Know-Who's won, it's over, and anyone who's pretending different's kidding themselves.' "

"I don't say I like it, but it's the truth!" "No, it isn't," said Harry. "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 waited for Aberforth to jeer or to argue, but he did not. He merely scowled. "We need to get into Hogwarts," said Harry again. "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."

Aberforth remained fixed in his chair, gazing at Harry with the eyes 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," he said. She smiled, turned, and walked away, not as people in portraits usually did, out 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 — ?" began Ron. "There's only one way in now," said Aberforth.

"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."

"But what . . . ?" said Hermione, frowning at Ariana's picture. A tiny white dot had 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 I remembered: He appeared to have suffered several gashes to his face and his clothes were ripped and torn.

Larger and larger the two figures grew, until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait. Then the whole thing swung 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!"

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