September the First arrived. As the day progressed, Harry found himself wistfully following in his mind what he would have been doing had he been any other Hogwarts student. Now arriving at Platform Nine and Three Quarters; now boarding the bright red Hogwarts Express; now buying Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties from the short little witch who pushed the lunch trolley. He found himself missing Hogwarts almost constantly â“ missing everything about the old castle with its moving portraits and talking suits of armour and the hundreds of pearly-white, translucent ghosts. He would have given anything to be back there now, even in the dullest class of all, History of Magic.
But summer was fading and autumn drawing near; the treetops Harry could see from his bedroom window were at the mid-way transformation from green to gold, and the evenings had begun to lengthen. As the days passed, Harry knew he should not let himself dwell on what could have been. He had a job to do. And so, as they waited for Aberforthâs reply, the four of them spent the days learning to duel. Neville often joined them, too, but he wasnât even half as enthusiastic now as he had been in the old DA days, and on this particular day he wandered off after an hour, shutting himself back in his room.
Ginny was coming on amazingly quickly; as her parents had predicted, she did seem to be more powerful than they had realised. She was learning to control and perfect her wandless magic, usually testing her new skills on the unfortunate Ron.
âWhy am I always the guinea-pig?â Ron grumbled as he gingerly picked himself up from the dusty floorboards yet again, rubbing his aching backside. Not wanting to hurt Ronâs feelings, Harry refrained from mentioning that he was the only one Ginny could easily take by surprise.
âBecause youâre the only one I can surprise easily,â shrugged Ginny. Harry rolled his eyes, then looked over at Ron. He was wearing a mortally offended expression.
âThatâs â“ thatâs not true!â
âEnnerex!â Ginny said suddenly, flinging her arm out. Ron was lifted clean off his feet and thrown halfway across the room. Ginny grinned, but Ron just looked mutinous as he picked himself up yet again, having added to his collection of bruises.
âOh, Ron, you really need to work on your reflexes,â sighed Hermione as she sat on the bed, leafing through an enormous green-bound book entitled Curses of the More Gruesome Kind. Ron looked even more hurt.
âI donât see you having great reflexes!â
âMy reflexes are fine, Ron,â murmured Hermione, turning the page. Ron glared at her, then quickly raised his wand and shouted,
âKarashio!â
The flash of blue light seemed to shudder in mid-air, then rebounded without warning on Ron, who yelled in horror as it engulfed him. Harry quickly went to Ron and helped him up, smothering his laughter as he saw Hermione still sitting reading on the bed, her wand tip just visible from beneath her book. She was smirking slightly.
âAs I said, Ron, my reflexes are fine.â
âDid that curse actually do anything to him?â said Ginny curiously, watching her brother. âHe looks normal to me.â
Ron was looking healthy, but worried.
âI think â“â he began, but stopped, coughed, and released a huge, noisy belch. Harry leapt back in disgust as putrid greenish fumes were released from Ronâs insides, reeking of dead fish and rotten eggs.
âUgh!â said Ginny in disgust. âRon!â
âOh no â“ it means I â“â he burped again. âLet out this stuff whenever â“â Another belch, worse than before. âI try to speak!â
âRon, shut UP!â cried Hermione, clutching a handful of her robe and covering up her mouth and nose. âWe can see â“ we can smell what happens when you speak, thereâs no need to explain!â
Ron rubbed his stomach anxiously. âBut thereâs no counter-curse, I donât think â“ I canât go around like this forever!â The stink that followed this speech was so bad that Harry, choking, opened the windows to release some of the green gas and pulled Hermione and Ginny to the door.
âRon, mate, stay here for a bit, would you?â he said, wafting away the fumes coming his way. âDoes it wear off?â
âDonât answer that!â said Ginny hurriedly, as Ron opened his mouth again.
âYou three, Iâm going to get out of here before Iâm sick,â said Hermione, withdrawing from the room. They heard her footsteps clattering down the stairs.
âRon, sorry but youâre going to have to stay here till it stops,â said Harry sympathetically. âIf you must, er - try and do it out of the window.â Ron nodded and sat on the bed, looking thoroughly dejected. Harry closed the door and breathed in a saving lungful of the unpolluted air of the corridor. He noticed that Ginny had already followed Hermione, and, trying not to listen to the sound of Ronâs miserable burps from inside the room, Harry joined them downstairs.
Mrs Weasley was just getting dinner ready when he walked into the kitchen. She accepted Harryâs quick explanation than Ron had just suffered a slight accident in a duel and that, though he wasnât badly hurt, he wasnât really ready to eat yet.
âI donât know, you lot are always searching for trouble,â was all she said, shaking her head as she flicked her wand at some potatoes. They immediately lined up neatly like soldiers on the chopping board and a sharp knife floated over to them, dicing them with rather brutal speed.
Harry slipped into a chair beside Hermione and Ginny at the kitchen table, and soon Lupin, Tonks, Charlie, Mr Weasley and Flavia joined them. Harry hadnât seen Tonks for a while, and she greeted him enthusiastically as she peered into the huge saucepan of hot stew that Mrs Weasley had just carried over to the table.
âMm, it looks delicious, Molly. It was so busy today at the office I forgot to eat lunch. Iâm starving!â
âWell, here you are, dear,â said Mrs Weasley affectionately, giving Tonks an extra large helping. Tonks eagerly dug her spoon into the steaming bowl, moaning in contentment as it reached her mouth.
âThanks ⌠yeah, trying to do Order work and keep on top of my Ministry paperwork, and hide from the Ministry the fact that Iâm part of Dumbledoreâs old club â“ barely have a spare moment,â she said between mouthfuls. âOld Jacob Grume was asking me funny questions today, too â“ I'm sure he suspects something.â
âTalking of the Ministry â“ I spoke to Percy at work today.â
It was with careful deliberateness that Mr Weasley slipped this into the conversation.
âWh - what?â Mrs Weasley, who had been spooning stew into another bowl, dropped her ladle, not noticing as she liberally splattered Harry and Lupin with gravy.
âIn fact, I should perhaps say Percy spoke to me.â Mr Weasley was speaking very cautiously as he looked his wife directly in the eye.
âWhat did he want?â whispered Mrs Weasley. Harry, wiping gravy from his glasses, noticed that her hands were gripping the table edge very tightly. Mr Weasley sighed.
âWell â“ he was asking about Harry.â
âHarry?â said Mrs Weasley, Lupin and Hermione together.
âWhat?â said Harry, instantly wary. âWhat was he asking about me?â
âWell, at first he pretended he just wanted to know if you was safe,â began Mr Weasley. âBut then he started asking where you were going, what youâve been doing â“ Iâd bet every last Galleon that Scrimgeour put him up to it.â
Harry was feeling suddenly anxious. âYou didnât tell him anything, did you?â
âYes,â said Mr Weasley, looking uncharacteristically grim. âI did. I told him that if he thought he could drop his family like an unwanted glove and then use them to spy on his ex-fellow Gryffindors, then he was no longer my son.â
Ginny whooped and cheered, a wide grin on her face, but Mrs Weasley covered her mouth with her hands in horror, the congealing stew entirely forgotten.
âOh, Arthur!â
Harry, Hermione, Tonks and Lupin exchanged an awkward glance and simultaneously began eating their stew as quickly as possible, so they would have an excuse to leave the table.
âMolly, heâs snubbed us and pushed us away for three years and now heâs just trying to use us,â said Mr Weasley tiredly. âDo you really think heâll ever swallow his pride now?â
âBut â“ but heâs my son!â Mrs Weasley said almost hysterically, a sob catching in her throat.
âHe doesnât have any reason to come back to us now, Mum.â Ginny flung her hair over her shoulders with an angry gesture. âNot when heâs with the Minister, who is of course much more important than just his own family.â
Finally, Lupin intervened. âListen,â he said quietly. âIf his family really matters to him, heâll come back someday, regardless of what he has done and what Arthur has said. Wait and see. And if he really has stopped caring for you, then it is probably best, Molly, to just let him go.â
Mrs Weasley wrung her hands and looked at Lupin tearfully but to everyoneâs relief, she finally gave a small, reluctant nod and sat down. Everybody resumed eating in an embarrassed silence, and Harry gulped down the rest of his stew almost without chewing, eyes watering as the heat singed his throat. Privately he thought that Percy was an ignorant git who shouldnât be allowed back into the family even if he did realise what an idiot he had been. Though he supposed it probably wouldnât be the best idea heâd ever had to voice this thought out loud, and so as soon as he had finished Harry excused himself and exited the room as quickly as was possible without appearing rude, Hermione following close behind.
For the next few weeks, the relationship between Mr Weasley and his wife was very strained. Mrs Weasley would be tearful and sensitive one minute, then snappish and bossy the next. Fred and George, once Ginny had sent them an owl informing them of Percyâs disowning, turned up a few days later to celebrate. They arrived on the doorstep lugging a huge box of Cauldron Cakes, Peppermint Toads and other wizarding sweets with them, ignoring their motherâs horrified exclamations of, âFred! George! There is nothing at all to celebrate!â
But Harry didnât join in the party that the twins started up regardless of Mrs Weasley's objections. Neither did Neville â“ heâd chosen to stay in his room again, but that didnât surprise anyone. Harry, though, was worried about Hedwig; she had been gone now for nearly a month taking the letter to Aberforth. He was staring out of the window at the inky black sky when Ginny climbed upstairs and joined him in his room later that evening.
âShe doesnât usually take this long,â muttered Harry as she appeared at his side. âA journey to Hogsmeade and back usually only takes a couple of weeks.â
âShe'll be fine, Harry,â comforted Ginny. âMaybe she met a dashing young tawny owl on the way,â she added, smirking. Harry raised his eyebrows at her and turned away from the window.
âI just donât like it. If sheâs got lost or injured â“ aside from the fact that sheâs my pet, that letter to Aberforth or his reply could get lost, too.â
âCould do,â said Ginny casually. âBut it hasnât.â
âHow can you say that? You donât know.â
âWell, perhaps itâs an Illusionment Charm, but that letter sheâs carrying doesnât look lost to me.â
âWhat?â Harry looked back at the window, and laughed. Hedwig had suddenly appeared on the window-ledge, blinking up at him, a small scroll tied around one leg.
âHey, girl â“ talk of the devil! Câmon in ⌠â But Hedwig seemed restless and wary. She shifted from foot to foot, finally ignoring Harryâs outstretched arm and flapping into the room to perch on top of the wardrobe.
âWhatâs up with her?â said Harry, puzzled. It was with extreme difficulty and patience that he eventually managed to coax Hedwig down so he could untie the parchment from her leg. He handed the letter to Ginny, and she unrolled it while Harry tipped some Owl Treats into Hedwigâs food bowl, and tried to persuade his snowy owl to eat.
âAll it says is âYes. HH, Nov 12. ADââ Ginny said, looking over.
âHH, Nov 12,â repeated Harry. âOuch â“ hey, stop that.â Hedwig had just nervously dug her claws into his hand. He pried her off and continued. âSo, meet in the Hogâs Head on the twelfth â“ thatâs in two days.â
âWeâd better tell Ron and Hermione,â said Ginny. âNo, wait â“ Iâll go! See this â“â
And to Harryâs astonishment, she twirled on the spot, one eyebrow raised at him in amusement, and Disapparated. Harryâs mouth was still open when she returned a second later with Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as flabbergasted as Harry felt.
âGinny â“ how â“ when did youâŚ?â
âHermioneâs been giving me lessons,â said Ginny proudly. âI finally managed to do it by myself yesterday.â
âWow â“ thatâs great!â said Harry, marvelling at what an able witch Ginny was becoming, far outstripping the others in her year.
âYeah, cool,â said Ron, not quite managing to disguise the slight resentment in his voice. Heâd had particular trouble with Apparition last year, when heâd been quite a bit older than Ginny was now.
There was a sudden movement outside their door. Harry, puzzled, walked across the room and was just about to check the landing when the door burst open. Fred and George stood there, both looking highly offended.
âWhat is this?â said Fred, giving them all a mock glare. âPrivate party upstairs?â
âOur humble gathering belowdecks too rough for you lot?â
âOur Cauldron Cakes too boringâŚâ
âOur lowly company unneeded by the Chosen OneâŚâ
âThe Boy Who LivedâŚâ
âThe â“â
âAll right, all right!â interrupted Harry loudly before they could go on. âWeâll be down in a minute.â
âYeah, you will be,â said the twins together, and before he could open his mouth to protest, Fred grabbed his left arm, George took hold of his right, and together they turned on the spot. Harry was dragged with them through this double-Apparition and found himself downstairs in the lounge, where several Order members and the rest of the Weasley family, excluding Mrs Weasley, were gathered. Loud, extremely bad music blared from a battered wireless and Charlie was currently undertaking a see-who-can-eat-the-most-jelly-slugs-in-thirty-seconds contest with Flavia, who appeared to be winning.
Two days later, however, Fred and George were back in their joke shop, and Harry explained quickly to Mrs Weasley that theyâd be out for the day. Hedwig had finally calmed down a bit, though she would still fluff up her feathers in panic every time Harry came into the room. Nobody could work out what was wrong with her â“ she seemed perfectly healthy, just chronically paranoid. Harry supposed that a quiet day in his room with the four of them gone would do her good.
âApparition is so cool,â remarked Ron as the four of them appeared in Hogsmeade by the sweet shop, Honeydukes. âIn London one minute, than snap.â He clicked his fingers. âJust like that!â
They started walking in the direction of the Hogâs Head.
âOh, look â“ Scrivenshafts is closed,â said Hermione, pointing to the quill shop. Since Harry had last been to Hogsmeade for his Apparition test, the windows had been boarded up and the shop appeared desolate and sad-looking. As they gazed around, Harry realised that several of the old, familiar shops were now closed and deserted. Huge purple posters flaunting pictures of Death Eaters were plastered over the dusty glass.
âItâs as bad as Diagon Alley,â murmured Ginny sadly. None of them mentioned it, but Harry guessed they all felt the same way he did â“ Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, all the old haunts â“ they just werenât the same any more. It was hard not to remember the good times theyâd all had here, shopping, visiting the Shrieking Shack, sitting round small tables in the Three Broomsticks for hot pints of sweet Butterbeer. They were all so caught up in their memories that not one of them noticed the tall, lanky figure in a hooded robe gazing in their direction from across the street, over the top of a large newspaper.
The door of the Hogâs Head opened just as the four of them reached it, and Harry took an involuntary step backwards as the barman appeared.
âYouâre here, then.â
It was a statement, not a question, and before Harry had collected his thoughts, Aberforth beckoned them into the bar and closed the door behind them with a snap. After seeing the sorry state of Hogsmeade, which was usually bustling with witches and wizards from all over the country, Harry wasnât hugely surprised to find the usually crowded room was completely empty. The Leaky Cauldron pub in London had been similarly devoid of customers.
Aberforth motioned them into a grubby little back room, which smelt as strongly of goats as the main bar area. Hermione sat down very gingerly right on the edge of the stained sofa, which might once have been dark red but now was so filthy it was hard to tell.
âSir â“ Mr Dumbledore â“â began Harry awkwardly. It felt very strange calling someone else by the name Dumbledore, even a man who, beneath the grime and tangled hair, bore rather a startling resemblance to the old headmaster.
âWe were wondering â“â
âYeah, I think I know what you were wondering,â said Aberforth shortly, holding up his hand for silence. Slowly, stiffly, he knelt down. They all watched him curiously, shooting each other nervous glances. The man really was quite strange.
Aberforth didnât tell them what he was doing. He just lifted up the tattered rug, revealing a large rectangle of wooden boards that were so much cleaner than the rest of the floor they stood out starkly against the dirt. In the centre of the rectangle was a small iron ring which Aberforth took hold of and twisted sharply to the left. Harry drew in his breath as a thin line appeared, marking out a square â“ a trapdoor. Lifting the lid, a curious assortment of objects was revealed: a knife with a carved wooden handle, some yellowing documents, and what looked like a broken Biting Teacup. From beneath all this, the barman drew out a small object that was carelessly wrapped in greasy grey cloth, and Harryâs heart pounded in his chest. He was dying to jump up and grab the object from the manâs hand, but he controlled himself and waited.
Aberforth stood up, his shadowy eyes fixed on Harry. Then, with a single fluid movement, he shook the cloth, caught the golden object which fell out into his hand, and allowed the locket Horcrux to slither through his fingers to finally dangle, swaying slightly, from one grubby fingertip.
âBelieve this was the object you came looking for.â
âOh!â breathed Hermione.
Aberforth glanced at her. âA yes, I think. Take it.â
And without further preamble, he tossed the Horcrux at Harry, who caught it, stunned. âTh-thanks!â he stuttered, his breathing suddenly shallow with excitement. The locket was unnaturally cold and very heavy. As Harry stared at it, in his possession at long last, he saw the elegant, twining serpent in the shape of an âSâ etched into the gold. Slytherinâs mark. Harryâs mouth was dry with excitement and slight awe. Here was an object that had once belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts, over one thousand years ago. He was grasping in his hand a possession of Salazar Slytherin, which now contained a fragment of the soul of the darkest wizard of this age â“ Lord Voldemort.
âWhat do you think?â grunted Aberforth, sitting down in a high-backed armchair. âGenuine Horcrux?â
âYou know about the Horcruxes?â Harry was dismayed.
âI suggest you stow that thing away somewhere safe before you lose it again.â
Harry hastily stuffed the locket in the pocket inside his robes. The cold, hard lump weighed heavily against his chest.
âHow much did Dumbledore tell you?â
âAlbus told me nothing about Riddleâs Horcruxes. But I have had ⌠past experience.â
âWhat do you mean?â whispered Hermione. She was staring at Aberforth very intently.
âI mean that I was there forty years ago when Albus found and destroyed Grindelwaldâs Horcrux.â
âWhose Horcrux?â the four of them spoke simultaneously.
Aberforth surveyed them shrewdly beneath dusty-coloured eyebrows. âNone of you kids have heard of Adolph Grindelwald?â
âIt rings a bell,â said Hermione slowly. Ron and Ginny were looking blank, but Harry, like Hermione, had a feeling that he had seen the name before â“ if he could just remember where.
âGrindelwald was the darkest wizard the world had ever seen before Riddle came along,â Aberforth informed them. âWant a drink?â he added, gesturing with one clawed hand to the filthy bar outside the room. They all politely refused.
âRiddle eclipsed him, you could say.â
âWhy do you keep calling Voldemort âRiddleâ?â said Hermione suddenly. âI thought not many people knew that was his name.â
Aberforth grunted. âI knew Riddle when he was just a kid at Hogwarts,â he said. âAnd later, too.â
âWhy, you werenât â“ you werenât his teacher, were you?â said Ginny, puzzled.
Aberforth looked at her. The whites of his eyes were yellow with age and he suddenly looked very sour.
âLike I could ever be a teacher,â he muttered darkly, staring into the empty grate, which was scattered with the remains of a long-dead fire. âI need a drink,â he said, getting up abruptly and shambling out of the door into the bar. He returned a second later with a bottle of Firewhiskey, which he took a long swig from before continuing.
âNo, girl, I was never even a student at Hogwarts.â
âYou werenât?â said Harry, astonished. âWhy not?â
Aberforth glared at him, and Harry wished heâd never spoken. The atmosphere in the room grew extremely uncomfortable. Then â“
âMehhh!â Harry jumped in surprise and shock as the door flew open and in trotted one of the queerest animals he had ever seen.
âWhat is that?â said Ron, staring at the creature in intrigued bewilderment, and not a little revulsion. It looked as though it might once have been a goat, though its coat was now a strange mass of fur and feathers, and a huge, yellowish tongue protruded from its slack mouth, hanging nearly to the ground. Ginny shuddered.
âOut! Get out!â shouted Aberforth, brandishing the Firewhiskey bottle at the mutated goat, which gave a high-pitched bleat, more like a squeak, and shuffled backwards out of the room, bulging eyes rolling in its head. Aberforth rose and shut the door with a bang, then resumed his seat. Harry and Hermione exchanged slightly scared glances, but Aberforth broke the silence, carrying on as though Harry hadnât said anything.
âI knew Tom Riddle âcause he used to come to the Hogâs Head on Hogsmeade weekends. But Iâm getting off the point. I was with Albus when he got rid of Grindelwaldâs Horcrux years ago. Not that anyone knew,â he added bitterly.
âAnd â“ and this Grindelwald had a Horcrux?â ventured Hermione timidly. She was watching the door nervously, evidently wondering if the goat-creature would reappear.
Aberforth slowly clapped his grimy hands, causing Hermione to go scarlet and shrink into her chair. Harry didnât see why this should have been so obvious â“ he hadnât realised it â“ but then, this man was pretty odd.
âGrindelwald had a Horcrux. Albus found out somehow, and within months had tracked it down. He nearly died in doing so â“ it was extremely well-protected.â
âDid you help destroy it?â asked Ron, looking at the old man with more respect. But Aberforth just snorted.
âNot as if I could do that,â he growled. âBut I learnt then what Horcruxes were, and that meant when I heard Riddle had apparently returned from the dead, it wasnât hard for me to work out just what had happened. Riddle was a great supporter of Grindelwald during his Hogwarts years â“ wouldnât be surprised if he joined his ranks after he left school â“ but no doubt thatâs where he first heard about Horcruxes. Whatâs wrong, girl?â
For Hermione was looking towards the window. âThere was a shadow â“ no, never mind,â she said, shaking her head. âJust a passerbyâŚâ
Harry looked over. It looked like a perfectly normal window to him, albeit grimier than any heâd laid eyes on before. He could hear the goatâs hooves clip-clopping around the bar, and wondered again what on earth it was doing here.
âSo â“ so you guessed Riddle had created some Horcruxes?â asked Ron, after a few seconds. âWhy didnât you tell Dumbledore when you bought this one?â
âDidnât know it was a Horcrux then, did I?â growled Aberforth. âI collect stuff like that â“ old valuables, rarities ...â He pulled a key from inside his robes and opened the door of a large cupboard to reveal a startling array of gold and silver treasures. Harry scanned them quickly for signs of Hufflepuffâs cup (just in case), but in vain.
âSeeing as I canât do a great deal in the wizarding world, I have to have something to keep me occupied aside from that bar. See this here,â Aberforth added proudly, motioning at a delicately moulded silver brooch. âWorth a fortune. Picked it up years ago in Diagon Alley. Donât reckon the owner had any idea of its value. Got strong magical powers, apparently, though Iâve never been able to use them. I bought that there locket from Fletcher a couple of years ago â“ cost a bomb, but worth it, eh?â
âYeah,â said Harry. âYeah, thanks â“ thatâs really brilliantâŚâ
âSuggest you destroy it as soon as possible, boy.â
âYeah,â said Harry again. âI will. Er â“ can I pay you for this?â he added, gesturing at the lump in his robes where the locket was concealed, and reaching into his pocket for his moneybag.
But Aberforth just waved an impatient hand. âNah,â he said. âCount it as my contribution to the war against Riddle. Now go, just go, and get rid of it quickly.â
Harry nodded and rose. He would be quite glad to leave this strange old man and the goat smelling room behind.
âWhat was that?â
Ginny had started, and was staring at the window in alarm.
âI thought I saw â“ one moment!â she hissed, and before Harry got ask what on earth she was doing sheâd slipped out of the door and into the bar.
âKeep talking, Ginny said!â said Hermione hurriedly, pushing Harry back into the chair from which he had risen. âSheâll be fine, sheâs just checking no oneâs there â“ so, um â“ so why did you never go to Hogwarts, Mr Dumbledore?â
Harry could tell Hermione had said the first thing that had come into her head and was now regretting it, for two pink spots had appeared on her cheeks as Aberforth looked long at her out of his deep eyes.
âSorry, I didnât meanâŚâ she trailed off in confusion, her face getting pinker with each second until it resembled a giant Puffapod bean.
âWhy didnât I go to Hogwarts?â said Aberforth in a low, bitter tone, pronouncing each word with sour clarity. âI didnât go to Hogwarts because Hogwarts does not accept people like me. People with no magical powers. People whose parents and grandparents and brothers are magic, who become the greatest wizards in the world, who become world famous. Not Squibs like me who live their lives out in a filthy place like this! â He gestured angrily at the squalid room. âDoes that satisfy your curiosity?â
Harry was taken aback. It had never even occurred to him that the brother of someone as great as Dumbledore could possibly be a Squib. He and Hermione shot each other surprised glances, though for the life of him Harry couldnât think of anything to say.
Ron, it seemed, didnât have that problem.
âBut â“ but what about that goat?â he said, jerking his head towards the door. âIsnât that â“ havenât youâŚ?â A snorting, snuffling noise indicated that the goat was still there. Harry listened anxiously for a sign as to what Ginny was doing outside and was about to throw caution to the winds and follow her when Aberforth spoke again.
âItâs none of your business, boy,â growled Aberforth angrily, setting down his bottle of Firewhiskey with a bang. âIf you must know, I tried out a Kwikspell course years ago and experimented on that wretched creature. Got dragged through the press, it did. Didnât work, either, as you can see â“ and so I kept the animal to remind myself of the truth. I am not a wizard, nor will I ever be. I would be glad if you left now!â
Ron looked as though he wanted to apologise but couldnât think of the right words. He was saved the trouble, however, by a loud bang that suddenly resounded right outside the window, followed by cries of fear and panic. Terrified about what Ginny was doing out there, and unable to stop himself, Harry jumped up and pulled open the window. What he saw made his stomach turn over in shock, and through a kind of numbness he felt Hermioneâs arm dragging him to one side out of sight. Beside him, Ron let out a sort of strangled moan of shock. For there, sprawled inelegantly on the ground below the window with a furious Ginny standing over him, was Percy Weasley. His wand was rolling across the ground out of his reach.
âNoâŚâ breathed Harry in disbelief. âHe wasnât â“â
âFollowing us!â shouted Ginny, her eyes flashing with a fire Harry had never seen before. Percy muttered something incoherent, his neck turning bright red, and tried to get up, but Ginny flicked her wand and he fell back again, his Ministry robes tangled absurdly round his legs.
âSo, spying on our own family now, are we?â Ginny hissed. From across the street, Harry saw a few passers-by looking over curiously. One was wearing dark robes and something about the arrogant, haughty way he held himself seemed vaguely familiar âŚ
âI was â“ just going to have a drink in the pub!â panted Percy, attempting to straighten his horn-rimmed glasses and cover up his embarrassment. âHow was I supposed to know you were there?â
âWell, I imagine you noticed we were here when you spied on us through the window,â snapped Ginny, yanking him his to his feet, wand still pointed threateningly at his chest.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â said Percy pompously, straightening his crumpled robes. âI was just passing by.â
Beside Harry, Hermione made a quiet, scornful noise of disbelief, but she remained where she was, her hand still on Harryâs arm, warning him not to do anything rash.
âYou expect us to believe that?â Ron suddenly leaned out of Aberforthâs window, looking at Percy as though his brother was something rather nasty heâd discovered on the sole of his shoe.
âOh, Ron, youâre here too,â said Percy, assuming a most unconvincing expression of surprise as he avoided his younger brotherâs scornful gaze and looking increasingly uncomfortable. âWhat are you two doing in a place like this? Itâs â“ itâs dangerous round here nowadays!â He reached surreptitiously for his wand but Ginny kicked it away. It spun across the ground into a small, muddy puddle.
âLike you care,â sneered Ron. âI suppose you wanted some nice juicy information to report back to Scrimgeour? Youâre pathetic.â
Percyâs neck was rapidly turning the exact shade of a tomato, but with his wand six feet away there was little he could do. Ginnyâs wand was still trained on his chest. Aberforth, after one glance at the scene outside, had shrugged, poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and sat back down. He was now acting as though not one of them was there, perhaps still brooding over the fact that he, and not his famous brother, had been a Squib. Harry, on the other hand, hovered just behind the windowframe, fighting the violent urge to climb out the window and start bashing every inch of Percy he could reach.
âHarry,â cautioned Hermione in a frightened whisper. âDonât let him see you!â Harry tried very hard to stop himself doing something reckless that he would regret later. His fingernails dug into the wall. Most probably Percy knew he was there anyway ⌠but maybe he should let the siblings sort out this family business themselves?
A second later Harry was highly thankful he had not disclosed his presence. There was a sudden popping sound and a short man with grey hair and a black moustache appeared. Harry just had time to recognise Dawlish, a Ministry Auror, before there was another pop and the pink-haired figure of Tonks joined him. Only then did Harry remember that they and other Aurors had been assigned to patrol the village of Hogsmeade.
âWell, now, whatâs going on here?â said Dawlish in an official, clipped voice, glancing sharply between Percy and Ginny. Tonks gave only the slightest glance in Harryâs direction before silently turning to watch Percy pick up his wand, having regained his composure.
âNothing, Dawlish. Just having a little chat with my â“ family,â said Percy stiffly, saying the last word extremely reluctantly. Ginny looked as though she wanted very badly to hex him into a pile of sludge and was probably only prevented from doing so by the presence of two Ministry Aurors.
âAbe?â said Dawlish suddenly, striding to the open window of Aberforthâs back room. Harry, in a panic, only just managed to pull the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself and Hermione in time. Dawlishâs head popped through the frame, only inches away from where they stood hidden. Harry tried very hard not to breathe loudly.
âThese kids havenât been disturbing you, I hope?â Harry was sure this was just an excuse to see if anyone else was or had been with Aberforth, for Dawlishâs eyes were flicking round the room, taking in every detail â“ the pulled-back rug revealing the small trapdoor, and the crumpled sofa where the four of them had been sitting. At one point he stared right through Harry to the wall behind him. It was quite a creepy sensation.
âNah,â said Aberforth slowly. âBut Iâd appreciate it if youâd go now, man, so I can finish my drink in peace.â
Dawlishâs gaze travelled round the room one more time before he nodded and withdrew his head. Tonks was still watching Ron and Ginny, one eyebrow very slightly raised.
âYou two children had better be getting back,â she said in an offhand voice, as though she didnât know them at all, though Harry could have sworn she gave Ron and Ginny a tiny wink. âItâs Percy, isnât it?â she added casually. Percy nodded.
âWell, Iâm sure you have things to be doing, Percy,â she said firmly.
Percy didnât waste time. Before Harry realised what had happened, he had gone. Harry swore under his breath; he had hoped Tonks would wipe Percyâs memory before he left. Harry did not know how much Percy had overheard but hoped very much that Ginny had deterred her brother from learning anything vital. But Harry had a feeling that this was not the case.
Dawlish lingered until Ron and Ginny had, with a furtive glance in Harry and Hermioneâs direction, Disapparated. Then with a curt nod to Aberforth, who had come to stand at the window clutching his Firewhiskey bottle, Dawlish, too, disappeared.
The moment he had gone, Harry threw off the Invisibility Cloak.
âHi, Harry, Hermione,â said Tonks, not seeming at all surprised. âShould I ask?â
âNot really,â said Harry awkwardly, but Tonks just smiled.
âThought not. Iâll see you around, then â“ keep safe.â And with a small pop, she too was gone.
âI have one last thing to say to you, boy.â
Harry turned back towards Aberforth, who was now looking slightly drunk but was still steady on his feet. Hermione watched curiously.
âYou need to know the truth, boy, about a lot of things. I donât think you realise how little of the truth you know. I advise you to go and sort out with Dumbledore whatever loose ends he left hanging. Now that heâs dead, he may have finally realised it is best not to keep things from you.â
âWhat are you talking about?â said Harry, confused. Perhaps Aberforth really was too drunk or crazy to know what he was saying. But the old manâs eyes flickered. He had guessed Harryâs thoughts.
âIâm not mad,â he said quietly. âLots of things, I am, but not that. When you are able to, talk to my brother. Find out what you should have known many years ago.â
âHow can IâŚ?â Harry had no idea what Aberforth meant. How could he talk to a dead man? But Aberforth looked at him as though he was being exceptionally stupid.
âThe portrait, boy.â
Hermione gave a soft âOh!â of comprehension, but Harry just looked at them both blankly.
Aberforth set down the bottle and spoke slowly and clearly. âThereâs a portrait of Albus hanging in his old office. And it can speak, you know.â
The portrait ⌠Albus Dumbledore had joined the ranks of the many dozens of deceased Heads of Hogwarts on the walls of his office. Hadnât Harry seen him there, with his own eyes, soon after Dumbledoreâs death? But as the old man had been sleeping and Harry was rather too distressed to think about much of anything at that time, he had not given the matter any thought at all. A portrait of Dumbledore â“ almost as good a confidant as the real man!
With one eyebrow raised, Aberforth showed the two of them out. And, head spinning over this sudden revelation, Harry Apparated with Hermione back to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where Ron and Ginny were anxiously waiting for them.