Harriet Potter

We decided to just destroy the crown to avoid the extra hassle of carrying it around.Ron and I agreed that Hermione would do the job, as she was the smartest of us.

Hermione was undoubtedly tempted by the Horcrux as she approached with the sword in hand, and I hadn't realized how strong her desire to find out was, but it was much easier to convince her not to wear the crown.By the time she put the Horcrux fragments back into the small bag, 5 minutes had passed from the two hours set by Aberforth. We simply cleaned up the broken sofa and sat on it, waiting for me to fully regain control of my limbs.Despite all the dangers, the very act of returning to the castle has the power to unknowingly relax us.

I've got the Marauder's Map spread out on my lap, my fingers still a little fuzzy, but somehow I know it's going to be a lot better next time - and of course I don't want to verify that at all.There are only a dozen or so dots on the map, most of which belong to teachers.I was relieved that the Carlos were not at the castle, and the students were in their dormitories.Before that, I often found that members of Dumbledore's Army who were still in school, including Ginny, Neville, and Colin Creevey, slipped out of the dormitory in the middle of the night. Sometimes the Carlos and their little ones would stay in the dungeon together. Often without imagining what is happening.If this happened to me while I was in the castle, I don't know if I could refrain from going to them.

Once or twice during those rough nights, I also saw Snape go into the dungeon, and Ginny and Neville returned to the dormitory a few minutes later-I think it was because of their pure blood, and a few minutes later. In minutes, the Carlo brothers and sisters also left the dungeon.Snape's little dot waved in front of the students before leaving, and he paused for a moment at the door, perhaps locking it.I stared at the map all night, until after dawn, Professor McGonagall let the rest of the students go, and the Carlo brothers and sisters did not go back.

Right now Snape was in the Headmaster's office, apparently not sleeping, his dot moving slowly in small circles.Maybe he was talking to Dumbledore's portrait, for a moment I wanted to put on the Invisibility Cloak and go to the headmaster's office, I don't know the password to the office now, but Snape would let me up there.I've been keeping some big secrets with them for half a year, maybe longer, and I've never been in a room with them alone.

"Harry, what do you think?" Hermione nudged me and called me back to reality.

"what?"

"Do you think we should tell Aberforth the truth about Dumbledore's death?" Ron asked. "We've got all night."

"How did you suddenly think of this?"

"He's probably Dumbledore's only living relative, and I think they care more about each other than they seem. He'll want to know the truth," said Hermione.

"Would it help him to know that Dumbledore was killed willingly, and that he spent a year planning it?" I frowned. Skeeter will stand up when he writes a book that smears him."

"It's not about honor, it's about the truth!" Hermione raised her voice angrily. "Even if you don't care about keeping it from us—"

"I have brothers, too, Harry." Ron stopped another repeated argument just in time. "I know what it's like, and if... I'd like to know the truth anyway."

"But it also involves Snape's identity, so the decision is up to you." Hermione continued.

They all looked at me, and I took a deep breath, hoping the paranoid rage was another wave of Voldemort's thoughts.Dumbledore used this truth to chain me down a path where the outcome was obvious, and they talked about "you know the truth about Dumbledore's death" as if that was some kind of capital, as if I had some valuable resource at my disposal, and I refused It's some kind of shameful betrayal to share with them and they'll never stop blaming me for it.Because I'm not going to tell them "No, I'd rather forget it, I'd rather I never knew about it, I'd rather I never knew I had to die, I'd rather Snape never disobeyed Dumbledore's orders, The only reason I want to make this public is that I want Snape to pay for what I've suffered" and sometimes I think I should just let them have a taste of that, but I'm not that mean yet .I tried to make peace with the truth, and maybe made some progress, but that didn't stop me from hating it.

"Harry, we totally understand if you don't want to..."

Your ignorant, self-righteous understanding.I swallow my haughty retort, "I'll try to tell him. Though I doubt it will surprise him."

"Oh, that's... ok." Hermione nodded, avoiding my gaze, and Ron moved his foot uneasily on my other side.

I checked the Marauder's Map again, and put it away.We climbed into that tunnel, past the stone steps and brass sconces, and I stopped when I realized that this might very well be the last time I would leave Hogwarts, then remembered it wouldn't change anything, and in the dim light move on.

Aberforth was still in the living room, in his pajamas, drinking a bottle of whiskey in the armchair facing the portrait, and looked up only a little as we crawled out.This is the first Christmas after Dumbledore's death. I don't know if his brother will come to visit before, but he may have to drink alone in front of his sister's portrait to pass all the Christmas Eves after that.

"You're over time," he said gruffly.

"Yeah, we might have to stay overnight with you," I said. "Is there anything to eat here?"

Aberforth snorted and waved his wand. A large loaf of bread, several slices of cheese, three plates of turkey, and a jar of mead appeared on the table. The bread and turkey were still hot and fragrant, and I immediately Hear the movement of Ron's stomach.The three of us ate and drank voraciously, and the room fell silent for a moment, save for the crackling of the fire, the clink of goblets, and the sound of food being chewed.

After a while, we were all satiated and slumped in our chairs drowsily.Suddenly, Aberforth posed the question.

"So, the mission left by my brother is going well?"

"This part, sort of." I replied.

"Reassuring." Aberforth took another sip, setting the bottle down on the small table.

I stared at the moldy ceiling for a moment, feeling both Ron and Hermione glancing at me, reluctantly pulling themselves up. "About Deng Bu... your brother, I have something to tell you."

"Another project of the Grand Plan?" whispered Aberforth. "Not so easy? A little wizard with little qualifications can't pull it off?"

"I—" I opened my mouth, feeling my mind was dull from being full and tired, and it was a little difficult to cope with this sudden question, "No, it's about his death."

The firelight shone on Aberforth's glasses, turning his grimy lenses an opaque, splint-like bright white.

"He's dead, and there's nothing else I need to know," he said. "Don't think about it, boy, lest you follow in his footsteps."

"Really? Then you'd better cover your ears now." Aberforth's indifference should not have irritated me so easily, "Otherwise listen carefully: your brother was not murdered by stealth, Snape It was done on his orders. He was injured on a mission... and knew he didn't have much time, so he arranged it and died voluntarily."

Aberforth said nothing, and Ron and Hermione sat up straight, looking at me nervously.

"Until the very last moment," I went on, "when Malfoy disarmed him and tried to kill him, he was doing everything he could to protect him and persuade him to get back on the right path. Even if he knew Malfoy couldn't see You can betray him to the Death Eaters in a blink of an eye. I don't care what happened between the two of you, I won't allow you to take him lightly like that."

"Really? You won't allow it?" Aberforth sneered. "You think I don't know him? You think you know Albus better than I do?"

"I think I know something you don't," I said, the reckless anger starting to dissipate. "You knew him a century before I did, and what he did wrong, and I knew the man who protected me— Who was my principal. I know who he ended up being."

"Oh, did he? So, did this man tell you everything? Was he honest with you?"

I wish I could answer "yes", however the simple word does not come to my lips for this.

"I don't need this." It might not be accurate to say, "It doesn't change anything." That's closer to the truth.

Aberforth clearly knew exactly what I was thinking.

"I know my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at my mother's knee. Secrets and lies, that's how we were raised, and Albus... he was born with it."

The old man's eyes turned to the portrait of the girl on the mantelpiece.Now that I had taken a good look around, this was the only painting in the room, there were no photographs of Albus Dumbledore or anyone else.

"Mr. Dumbledore," said Hermione a little timidly, "is this your sister? Arianna?"

"Yes," said Aberforth stiffly, "read Rita Skeeter, did you, girl?"

Even under the red firelight, Hermione's face could be seen blushing.

"We all read it," I said, "including you. Why do you do it if you think you know your brother well enough? You know what Skeeter will write."

Aberforth looked at me as if he had discovered a new angle.

"Abuzz wanted a lot of things, and people were often hurt when he carried out his grand plans," he said, "including you, Potter. I've seen what he did to you. Now he's gone to one of these Where nothing can hurt him, you don't owe him anything."

"Sometimes people are willing to take it, sometimes people know what it takes," I said, "Dumbledore knew how to kill You-Know-Who, he told me the situation, showed me the way, and I'll follow it Go on. He gave me the conviction to do it. Don't think I don't know where it's going to end up, I knew years ago."

I waited for a smile or a rebuttal from Aberforth, but he didn't, he just scowled.

"Sometimes people just get sucked in, they don't know what they're doing, and he's worried about bigger things than that," he said, looking at the portrait again. The price has nothing to do with any will, they are dispensable to him, so even if the result is there, he turns a blind eye."

I paused, "He paid the price and died for it."

"What do you mean?"

"He was hurt because he was wearing a ring that was very powerfully spelled by You-Know-Who, he must have known that, I never understood why he had it on. Now I do , because it has this on it." I took out the resurrection stone, and pointed the crack caused by the sword to Aberforth, "This is the resurrection stone, which can bring back the dead. He could have destroyed the ring directly, but it tempted made him think he could see them when he put it on - which in the end it did."

Aberforth stared at the resurrection stone, "Can it bring back the dead?"

"In some form, like a ghost or a memory in a Pensieve, they don't really come back," I replied, putting away the Resurrection Stone, feeling Aberforth's gaze follow it, "I know what that is like." A feeling that something else has done something similar to us, and I got over it, and Hermione did, but Dumbledore didn't. He never forgave himself, and if he really didn't care as much as you said... Maybe he won't die."

"Mr Dumbledore, would you like to meet him?" Hermione asked softly, "Or your sister?"

Aberforth stared intently at his gnarled, veined hands.After a long time, he said: "So, he finally found, 'Deathly Hallows'."

"You know this?" Ron asked, and Aberforth gave him a glare.

"I heard him talking about a summer vacation, searching for the Deathly Hallows, and establishing a new wizarding order." He said fiercely, "Now this is your task?"

"Part of it, I suppose," I replied.

The reflection from the glasses obscured Aberforth's eyes again. "You said it was originally on a ring, so what was in the locket you took from the Ministry?"