Pieces of a Soul

Chapter Five: She Will Not Be Left Behind

Early on the morning of September first, Harry sat bolt upright in bed, having been awoken by the sound of shrill shouting directly outside his bedroom door.

"Ginevra Weasley! For the last time, you will be returning to Hogwarts, young lady! One more word and it will not be Harry who accompanies you on the train, but your father and myself! If I can't trust you to be..."

"A good little girl?" Ginny interrupted coldly. "I have news for you, Mum. I'm not a little girl, and I'm tired of being good!"

"That does not change the fact that you are still my child and you are still under my authority!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "Now go get your trunk this instant, and -"

"Good morning, Harry," Ginny interrupted as her bleary-eyed boyfriend poked his head out of the door into the hallway. "We didn't wake you, did we?" she asked semi-sarcastically, and even through his early-morning haze Harry could tell that she was still not happy with him.

"Erm..." Harry said sleepily, straightening his glasses.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her tone calmer though she was obviously putting in a lot of effort to hold her temper. "Are you all packed for your stay in Hogsmeade?"

Harry nodded. In the last few days of the holiday, Mrs. Weasley had seemed to accept the fact that Harry, Ron and Hermione would not be returning to school, if only because she appreciated the fact that Harry was not trying to take Ginny with him against her wishes. At various times, she had tried to plead with them, but as she knew she had no authority to stop them going, even that had diminished.

"Mum," Ginny said, hoping that Harry's presence might keep her mother from continuing to shout. "Harry's going to need me to help - "

"Ginevra," Mrs. Weasley responded in an icy tone that was even more dangerous than her shouting, "You just keep at this, young lady, and I will see to it that you are not allowed out of that castle until Christmas."

Ginny gasped. Of all the threats her mother had made over the past two weeks, this one was by far the worst, and she knew her mother well enough to know that she would actually carry it out if provoked. She looked at Harry desperately.

"Are they going to allow Hogsmeade visits this term?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn. He had rather thought they wouldn't.

Ginny nodded. "There was a note sent out to all the parents requiring that everyone have new permission forms this year, though. And it looks like curfew will be much earlier, and we will be restricted to the main road so they can construct wards more easily."

"I still have half a mind not to sign your form," Mrs. Weasley muttered. "Imagine, letting students out of the castle when - "

"Mum!" Ginny cried, stamping her foot.

"The main road of Hogsmeade is much smaller than Hogwarts itself," Harry pointed out, knowing that this argument was going nowhere fast. "The students should be safe enough within the confines of the wards, and I'm sure they'll have all sorts of Aurors and other people guarding them."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, but tried to recover her previous sternness. "I have not refused to sign your form, Ginny," she said, "but make no mistake that I will if I believe you cannot be trusted to remain at school."

"C'mon, Ginny," Harry said softly.

"Fine," Ginny said even as furious tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Without another word to either of them, she turned her back and stalked down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her with enough force to cause dust to fall from the ceiling.

"Thank you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said softly.

"Please don't thank me, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, gazing after Ginny wistfully. The feelings he had had the night before and the uncertainty that he was doing the right thing all rushed back to him when he heard Ginny sobbing as she banged her trunk closed and put a protesting Bono into his cage for the ride to school.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Anyone who observed the group headed to King's Cross the next day would have thought they were headed to a particularly sad funeral. It seemed as though half of the Order as well as the teenaged inhabitants of Headquarters had turned out to see Ginny off to the station. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry walked slowly in the middle of a revolving group of adult wizards and witches all clad in various states of Muggle dress. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie and Fleur Delacour were all in a state of high alert, each of them keeping one hand closed tightly around his or her carefully concealed wand.

Arthur seemed to be especially worried, looking around nervously and shooting increasingly bewildered looks at all of them as they walked. He had insisted upon coming to see his daughter off to school, and it was the first time he had gone out in public for a month. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley carefully kept her body in front of his, trying to seem unobtrusive about it, and he could understand why. If there was any sort of attack, Mr. Weasley would likely be more of a liability than an asset, but no one had been able to find the words to refuse his request.

Upon reaching the station and passing through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry and Ginny found themselves to be the center of a lot of attention both from their group and from the students returning to school. Harry wasn't sure if he was remembering incorrectly or if the crowd on the platform was rather larger than usual; he had expected many students to be kept at home by their parents.

"Harry! You're coming back to school, then?" Neville asked, coming over to their group with his grandmother close behind him.

Harry nodded, not wanting to discuss his plans on a platform full of bustling and anxious witches and wizards, and hoping that no one would think anything of the fact that he was carrying the pack Ron, Hermione and Ginny had given him for his birthday rather than lugging his trunk.

"Molly, I'm so sorry for your trouble," Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother, commented, silently noticing Mr. Weasley's bemused expression as he surveyed the crowd. He reminded her painfully of her own son's condition after he had been tortured by the Cruciatus Curse in the first war.

"He's coming right along, aren't you, dear?" Molly responded, patting Arthur on the arm distractedly as she continually scanned the crowd for any sign of trouble.

"I shall be accompanying Neville on the train to school," Mrs. Longbottom proclaimed with the air of one who was making a great sacrifice for the sake of someone she loved. "Will you be coming along, Molly?" Behind her back, Neville rolled his eyes at Harry, who barely suppressed a chuckle.

Molly looked startled, and it could not have been clearer that she had not actually considered the idea of accompanying Ginny to school herself.

"It's OK, Mum," Ginny said quickly. "Harry's with me and there will be loads of adults on the train." She indicated the busy platform, and Harry noticed for the first time that there were many parents following their children onto the train. He wondered how the Hogwarts Express would fit all of them when it always seemed crowded with just the students.

"Perhaps we should - " Mrs. Weasley began, biting her lip.

"Do you think that would be the best thing for Dad?" Ginny asked, willing her voice to stay calm. Truth be told, she was tired of rowing with her mother and, now that the time had truly come to part from her parents, she didn't want to leave on an ugly note. However, this sentiment was not quite enough for Ginny to want her parents on the train with her. She wanted to spend time with Harry.

Molly glanced at Arthur, who was bouncing onto the balls of his feet, his eyes wide, and then back at Harry and Ginny, who were staring at her, determination and maturity glistening in both of their eyes. Finally, she nodded.

Quite suddenly, Ginny released her hold on Harry's hand and flew forward into her mother's arms. Ron, who had just rejoined the group after an awkward conversation with Luna Lovegood and her father, raised his eyebrows until they almost disappeared into his carrot-colored fringe, and Hermione took his hand as she grinned broadly at the sight.

Ron nudged Harry. "Reckon she's not mad anymore?" he whispered loudly.

Watching as Ginny moved around the group, exchanging tight hugs with her father and each of her brothers, Harry thought for a moment. "No," he answered very seriously. "I think it's just that she doesn't want to leave any of them on a bad note...too much has happened, and sometimes quarrels just don't seem as important, you know?"

Just then, the scarlet steam engine blew a long, shrill note as a warning of imminent departure from the platform. Hurriedly, Harry hugged Mrs. Weasley and shook hands with everyone else. Just as he had turned to get on the train, Lupin grabbed his arm and held him back for just a moment.

"Aberforth is expecting you tonight, Harry," he said seriously. "He'll have a room ready for you, but I want you to use your Invisibility Cloak as much as possible in Hogsmeade. There is no reason to invite trouble this early on."

"I know," Harry replied just as solemnly. Now that he was about to begin his quest in earnest, he felt more unsure of himself than ever. He reached his hand out to shake Lupin's, but his guardian surprised him by pulling him into a real hug, rather than their usual one-armed embrace.

"I'll be with you whenever I can, Harry," Lupin told him. "And I want you to keep your amulet on you, and don't forget about the connection between your wand and those of the rest of the Order. It will come in useful in times of need."

Harry nodded and freed himself from his guardian's embrace, only to be nearly swallowed by one of Molly's.

"Are you sure you have to do this, Harry?" she asked anxiously, peering into his eyes after she had finished hugging him. "I'll send your school things along; it is not too late to change your mind."

"I'm sure, Mrs. Weasley," Harry responded. "But thank you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "See her safely to school," she whispered so that Ginny would not hear. "And no matter what happens, you come back safe to me, do you understand? You come back safe to me."

Harry gulped and quickly tore his eyes away from hers. "I've got to get on the train," he muttered. "I'll see you all soon." As he shouldered his pack and followed Ginny onto the carriage, he felt as though all the weight of the world was now resting directly on his shoulders.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Harry soon found the answer to his question about the size of the train. Apparently, the carriages had been charmed to be much larger on the inside than the outside, much like the Ministry cars they had ridden to the station in before his third year. There were at least twice as many compartments in each one, and the compartments themselves had been expanded to hold at least eight people apiece.

Despite the number of parents on the train, however, it appeared that whoever had expanded it had been a bit overzealous, or had overestimated the number of students going back to Hogwarts at all. Harry and Ginny had no trouble finding a compartment to themselves, and they quickly stowed their things in the overhead compartments before Ginny had to go up to the Prefect's carriage for their traditional start-of-term meeting.

Left alone, Harry stared out the window of the compartment as the train worked its way out of London and north into the countryside. This might be the last time I will ever ride the Hogwarts Express, he realized with a pang. And even now, I really shouldn't be here, should I?

"Hello, Harry," said a dreamy voice from the door to his compartment, and Harry turned, grinning slightly, to see Luna Lovegood leaning casually against the door, looking around at the empty compartment.

"Hi, Luna," Harry answered. "How was your summer?"

"Not very nice, you know," Luna answered vaguely. "It's a bit hard to go on holiday when dementors keep turning up everywhere, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, not exactly sure how to respond to such a blatantly obvious statement; everyone knew that dementor attacks had been rising alarmingly. Luna didn't seem to mind, though, and she took a seat across from Harry, joining him in staring out the window. Neither of them spoke for quite some time.

"The prefects are all very confused," Luna suddenly said. "I heard them arguing from outside the compartment."

This was a little startling, and Harry turned to her. "What's wrong with the prefects?" he asked sharply.

"Well, Draco Malfoy isn't one any more, is he?" she asked. "So they got Blaise Zabini, only I don't think Ernie Macmillan likes him very much, and as Ernie is Head Boy..." she trailed off, fingering her butterbeer-cork necklace as she stared dreamily out the window.

Harry's mind gave a jolt. He'd not given a thought to the normal start-of-term business this year. If Ernie was Head Boy, then who was Head Girl? He could only think of one female prefect who could have been chosen...

"Where is Hermione?" Luna asked conversationally, as though the answer was of no consequence to her. "She really should have come onto the train. It's quite rude of her to go to school any other way when she's got Head Girl duties to do."

Harry's heart sank. Why hadn't he thought of that? It was so obvious, and Hermione must have known. Was this why she had looked sad, almost wistful, the last part of the holiday, try as she would to hide it?

"How is she getting to school?" Luna asked lightly. "Did she take a flying carpet or the Knight Bus?"

Harry was stumped. He really hadn't been planning on letting anyone know that he, Ron and Hermione were not going back to school directly, because he hadn't wanted to have to explain. He was spared from having to figure out what to say, however, when Ginny came in.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing herself on the seat beside him. "Oh, hi, Luna," she said, noticing the blonde Ravenclaw for the first time.

"Everything OK?" Harry asked, wishing Luna would leave the compartment so he could talk to Ginny in privacy.

"Luna, would you excuse us for a minute?" Ginny asked, almost as if she had read Harry's mind.

"Sure," Luna said dreamily, drifting out of the compartment without a glance back. Rolling her eyes, Ginny got up and shut the compartment door.

"So Hermione was supposed to be Head Girl?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ginny answered, "but it's not like we didn't know she would be, is it?"

There was really no way to argue this point. The only reason Harry hadn't realized that she would be was that he had been so focused on the horcruxes that he hadn't even considered it. He felt a stab of sorrow for his friend; Hermione had aspired to be Head Girl since the first day of her first year in school.

"Hermione should come to school," he said finally. "She can't give this up."

"She already had a chance to make that decision for herself," Ginny said, looking down at her hands. "She wanted to be with you, to help you. It was her decision."

"I know, but - "

"But nothing, Harry," Ginny said, and then she paused while she collected her thoughts. "You know, when you first told me I couldn't come, I was so hurt. I don't think you've ever said anything that hurt me so much."

"Ginny, I - "

"Just let me finish, Harry," Ginny said, looking away from him. "Then you explained it to me, and you were so...so sincere about it that I couldn't help agreeing with you. But you know what? I'm not sure I do anymore."

"But - "

"Stop interrupting me," Ginny continued rather harshly. "Harry, I love you. You know that."

"I love you, too."

"I know you do," she replied, smiling a little for the first time. "It's just that while I was with the prefects, I realized something." She paused.

"What did you realize?" Harry asked curiously.

"Ron's not there and Hermione's not there. Draco Malfoy is dead. Padma Patil's parents didn't let her and Parvati come back, and no one knows who is replacing whom, besides Zabini for Malfoy. Out of eight new fifth-year prefects that should have been there, there were only five that came and a couple from my year didn't either." She stopped.

"We knew a lot of people wouldn't be allowed to come back," Harry pointed out. "This was happening last year as well, remember?"

"I know that, Harry," Ginny said impatiently. "It's just that Voldemort caused all these people to go into hiding. They're afraid to go out of their homes, and they're even afraid to send their children to school now that Dumbledore's gone. He's killed too many people for anyone to feel safe."

"I know all that, Ginny," Harry replied.

"I don't want to hide," Ginny continued. "And that's what I'm doing by coming back to Hogwarts when you, Ron and Hermione are going to look for Voldemort, to finish him. And you said yourself that you're going to need me more than you need anyone else."

"Ginny, I - "

"This last couple of weeks, I've been so angry, mostly at Mum because I knew if she'd consent then you would want me to come, no matter what you say about everything else. That's the real problem here, Harry. You don't want to cross my mother."

"That's not - "

"I know, you fancy that you're keeping me safe as well," Ginny said, and her voice began to grow louder. "But you're not! No one is safe, no matter where they are, until this war is over. Even Hogwarts is not impenetrable, and you know that. Voldemort will be more than a match for the wards." She stopped and took a deep breath.

"Ginny - "

"I'm coming with you," she said, staring straight at him for the first time. "It's the right thing; you know it is."

"Ginny, I don't - "

"Don't you dare say you don't want me with you," Ginny warned, her voice dangerous even as it wavered with emotion.

"It's not - "

"Not what? Not that you don't want me, just that my precious little self is better off with the other little boys and girls at Hogwarts?"

Harry stared at her. She was becoming angry, and this time it wasn't at her mother - it was at him. He wouldn't have been surprised at that moment if she had actually pulled her wand on him.

"I'll go back to Hogwarts while you're staying at Hogsmeade," Ginny said. "No reason to get Mum's knickers in a twist until you're leaving, but when you leave, I go, too. That's final, Harry Potter."

Harry, not knowing how to handle this situation, finally just nodded. He saw now that he would never have been able to stop her any more than he could have stopped Ron and Hermione.

"What about being a Healer?" he asked.

"What about it?" Ginny replied unflinchingly. "I talked with Hermione about this, and she says we can - "

It was Harry's turn to interrupt. "You talked to Hermione about this?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "She's not quite as thick as you and Ronald are sometimes, and she figured out what I was going to do before I even did."

Harry couldn't help feeling a little annoyed with Hermione. If she was so quick at catching onto things, he felt that she should have told him.

Despite all of that, though, Harry couldn't help but smile a bit. He really hadn't wanted to leave Ginny behind, and though he was still worried about all the reasons she shouldn't come along, he felt not just the slightest bit relieved that she had taken the decision out of his hands.

He looked across the compartment at her. She was staring pensively out the window, her face still somewhat set in its defiant expression as she watched the fields and farms flash by. She's so beautiful, he thought. But what if something happens? What if she gets hurt? Mrs. Weasley will never forgive me...I can't let anything happen to her.

"Ginny - " he began.

Quicker than a flash, she turned once again to stare him straight in the eye. "Don't even think about it," she said softly, before wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. "I'm with you, always," she whispered.

They sat this way for some time, breaking apart only when they received visits from Neville and Dean, who told them that Seamus was not being allowed to return to Hogwarts, and a few other students, all of whom wanted to know where Hermione and Ron had got off to and whether they were returning to school.

Harry felt another painful stab as they pulled into Hogsmeade station. He had changed into his black school robes like everyone else, but he had only done so in order to remain unobtrusive until the others were off at school.

"First years!" called a brisk voice from the head of the train. "First years, this way, please!"

Harry blinked furiously, his throat constricting, as he heard Professor Grubbly-Plank ushering the small group of first years towards the lake and the waiting boats. Harry had never been able to imagine Hogwarts without Hagrid, who had been his first friend and contact with the Wizarding world.

"Harry!" gasped Ginny from next to him. "Are these...thestrals?"

He turned to her. Of course she would be able to see them now, he thought, putting one arm over her shoulder. "Yeah," he answered. "These are thestrals."

"They're really...erm...strange," Ginny said uncertainly, not sure of the exact word she should use to describe the beasts.

Harry nodded again, and then pulled her behind the last carriage, where he hugged her fiercely and kissed her. "You've got to go for now," he told her, half afraid she would insist upon coming with him at that very moment. To his relief, however, she just nodded. He knew she was going to have a rough night of it, having to answer everyone's questions about his, Ron's and Hermione's whereabouts. "I'll be at the Hog's Head with Aberforth," he reminded her as he helped her onto the last carriage. "Send Bono with a message for me anytime; it won't take him more than ten minutes to get there. And I'll be coming up to Hogwarts soon to talk to Professor McGonagall."

Ginny nodded. "Now you'd better go," she said in a strangely tight voice. "If you don't want people realizing you're not here right away, you need to disappear before the carriages leave."

Harry nodded, kissed her quickly, and then stepped once again behind the carriage to put on his Invisibility Cloak.

Ginny's whisper carried through the night air around the carriages. "Harry? Promise me you won't leave without me? I want you to promise."

Harry hesitated for the merest fraction of a second before he walked, invisible, to the door of her carriage. "I promise," he said softly. "I won't leave you behind."

As he heard the carriages begin to rattle their way towards the school, he swallowed hard but turned around determinedly and walked toward the end of the main road, feeling with every step that his journey had finally begun.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

As they had arranged before his arrival, Harry walked carefully between the patrons of the Hog's Head Pub towards the bar, behind which Aberforth was wiping dusty bottles with a very dirty rag. Harry grinned slightly as he came into view: what would the patrons of the pub think if they saw the beautiful garden carefully concealed behind this very building? When he reached the bar, Harry looked around and then carefully reached into his pocket, pulling out one gold Galleon, one silver Sickle and two bronze Knuts, placing them quietly on the counter and waiting for Aberforth to notice them.

The old barman was obviously on the watch; Harry had been sitting in his place, covered carefully by the cloak, for only a few moments before Aberforth saw the planned amount of money and, on the pretense of leaning over the bar to take it, whispered, "Glad you've made it safely, Harry."

Harry chuckled softly; Aberforth was looking away from him. "I'm over here," he whispered.

"Ba'man!" called a rough voice in the middle of the pub. "I nee' s'more whisky, since ya don' seem ta notice, an' if my sickles ain't good enough fer ya, I'll jus' go on down to th' Three Broomsticks, won't I?" It was obvious that the owner of the voice had had more than a few drinks already.

Aberforth fixed his face into the grumpy-looking grimace that he was famous for at the pub and turned slowly around to face the complainer. "Dry up, Fernie," he said roughly, seizing a dirty bottle from the row behind the bar. "You haven't been allowed at the Broomsticks for years; everyone knows that."

Harry choked back a laugh. Now that he knew the "real" Aberforth Dumbledore, the way the old man was able to play the act of the surly barman amused him even through the anxiety he was feeling about his quest. As Aberforth poured the brown liquid into a glass that was as dirty as the bottle in his gnarled hand, he turned his head almost imperceptibly and winked at Harry.

Harry's stomach began to growl as he kept his place on the tall wooden barstool, holding his Invisibility Cloak tightly around him and listening to the odd snatches of conversation from the bar. He had known since his fifth year that the Hog's Head attracted the more dodgy members of wizarding society, and now that he knew the owner personally, he strongly suspected that its reputation had been come by purposefully. What better place to find information one wouldn't overhear in polite society than a dirty bar with a seemingly surly and uninterested barkeep? The more he thought about it, the more Harry became convinced that this had been exactly Aberforth's intention, and he wouldn't have been at all surprised if he found out that Professor Dumbledore had been involved as well. It seemed like every time Harry turned around, he was finding yet another method by which Dumbledore had accrued his vast amounts of information on the happenings in the wizarding world as a whole.

It was another ten minutes before Aberforth once again came to Harry's corner of the bar, swiping at it with a rag that might have once been white but was now a revolting shade of black and mottled green. "Your room's number 24," he whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Second floor, very end of the hall. It's where Albus always stayed when he needed to get away from the school, and if you say 'impatiens' to the mirror, you'll find a passage down into the garden."

"Is there anywhere I could -" Harry began.

"Get something to eat?" Aberforth interrupted, now speaking to him from under the bar, where he seemed to be rummaging for something. "Go on to your room; you'll find something there."

"Thanks," Harry whispered, and carefully wended his way through the bar to the rickety wooden staircase at the back. As he passed the man called Fernie, he wrinkled his nose. The smell of alcohol coming from the man was so strong that Harry thought he might get light headed just from breathing it, and mixed in with that was the distinct smell of one who had not bathed anytime in the recent past. Careful not to give himself away, Harry quickened his pace until he was well away from him.

Room Twenty-Four was situated at the end of a narrow second-floor corridor with a floor that seemed to be carpeted with the grime of decades. Harry sighed longingly as he reached the nondescript wooden door, thinking of the warm dormitory at the top of Gryffindor Tower, his four-poster with its scarlet hangings and the warming pan he knew would have been placed between the sheets by the house-elves. He guessed that beyond this door would be another room just like the ones he had come from: bare and dirty, smelling of onions, alcohol and old socks.

When he opened the door, he found himself face to face with another wooden wall, and he had to wind his way around it to get into the room. The way the bit of wall was situated, no one would have been able to see into the room even if the door was left wide open.

Harry's mouth opened in shock as the room itself came into view. This room, though plain and unadorned, looked nothing like the rest of the pub. It had been cleaned so recently that Harry could smell the furniture polish, and the planks of the wooden floor were scrubbed smooth. He wondered briefly if Aberforth scrubbed this room himself as he finally removed his Invisibility Cloak and placed it and his backpack on the bed, which was covered in a downy-looking white duvet with dark blue embroidered stars.

He didn't have to wonder long. Just as Harry had begun to change out of his school robes in favor of a lighter set he had ordered over the summer from Madam Malkin's, he heard a distinct 'pop' from behind him and turned, wand at the ready. It took him a moment to locate the cause of the disturbance; he scanned the room at eye-level before letting his gaze fall towards the floor and the very old house-elf standing at knee level a couple feet away from him.

"Erm, hello," Harry said, looking down at a huge pair of green eyes which were looking at him not altogether kindly.

The house-elf bowed perfunctorily, less as a sign of respect than as an expected custom. "Master has sent Kibbly to find out what Mr. Harry Potter requires for the night, sir," he said, his voice sounding like a higher-pitched version of Aberforth's "pub voice."

Harry, who had expected a squeaky voice like that of the other house-elves he had met, was a bit taken aback by the gravelly pitch of this one's. He supposed it might have something to do with the cloud of smoke that usually hovered in the air at the pub, smoke which was comprised of what he suspected was much more than tobacco.

"Ok...er...yeah," Harry said uncertainly, wondering if this house-elf belonged to Aberforth and, if it did, why it seemed to be glaring at him so suspiciously. "Could I have some...er...dinner?"

Kibbly bowed again and disappeared with another 'pop', not even asking Harry what he would like to eat. Harry didn't mind, however; at this point, the small lunch he had eaten on the train seemed to be years ago.

Harry finished changing as he waited for Kibbly to return, and when he was done and had stowed the one set of school robes he had brought in his pack, he took the opportunity to look around the room once more.

Beside the bed was a plain chest containing a pewter holder with a new candle waiting to be lit, and in the other corner of the room was a door which, on further inspection, opened into a small washroom with an old-fashioned cast-iron tub, a toilet and a washbasin. Like the main room, there were no decorative adornments to be found and it was just as immaculately clean, smelling strongly of lemon. Harry was just splashing some water on his face when he heard Kibbly return to the bedroom.

"Harry Potter's dinner," the house-elf said stiffly, setting a wooden tray containing a covered plate, a pitcher and a goblet on the small table next to the window.

"Thanks, Kibbly," Harry responded, and when the house-elf continued to look at him suspiciously, he added, "Er...is something wrong?"

"No, sir," Kibbly replied curtly, and he bowed once again and disapparated.

Shrugging, Harry turned his attention to the tray, wondering what kind of food the plate would contain. Before he had seen this room, he would not have expected anything good, but he now realized that there was much more to this pub than originally met the eye.

Harry sighed in appreciation when he uncovered the plate to find a hot dinner of steak-and-kidney pie complete with steamed vegetables and buttered bread on the side. Coupled with several gobletfuls of ice-cold pumpkin juice from the pitcher, this made a very satisfactory meal even if it was nothing compared to the feast he would have enjoyed had he continued on to school from the train.

When he had finished, Harry put everything neatly back onto the tray and wiped the crumbs from the table with his napkin, somehow afraid to do anything that might annoy Kibbly. Trying to forget the suspicious looks the elf had given him, Harry turned back toward his pack, and within a few moments, had his research spread out around him in the customary six piles.

The new candle on Harry's bedside stand had burned nearly down to the bottom when Harry heard the familiar 'pop' once again and looked up to see Kibbly standing stiffly at the foot of the bed.

"Hi," Harry said uncertainly. Kibbly did not reply; he only stood his ground, staring straight at Harry, his large eyes narrowed. He was not exactly disrespectful, but neither did he make any effort to hide his obvious suspicions about Harry and what right he had to be staying in Albus Dumbledore's former room. After a few moments, Harry tried again, finding he could not concentrate on his work and ignore the elf any more than he could have ignored a marching band or a game of Quidditch. "Kibbly," he said with the slightest touch of irritation. "Is there something you want?"

"Master requests that Harry Potter meet him in the garden," Kibbly responded formally, with a curt nod of his head. "Kibbly will show Harry Potter the way."

"I know how to get there, thanks," Harry responded quickly, remembering the password Aberforth had told him and eager to get out of the house-elf's company.

"Of course Master told Harry Potter how to get into the garden," Kibbly mumbled as he went over to pick up the dinner tray from the table. "Master has so little regard for security, so little regard for his own safety."

Harry bristled. "Kibbly, I'm Aberforth's friend," he said, knowing he was unlikely to convince the elf. "I'd never do anything to hurt him."

The elf didn't reply.

"Really, Kibbly," Harry said a little desperately. For some reason, he thought it might be rather important to win the house-elf's trust. "I - "

"Will Harry Potter be requiring anything else for the night?" Kibbly interrupted, casting his eyes down in what seemed to Harry to be a sarcastic imitation of a house-elf's usual subservience.

Harry sighed. "No, thanks," he replied, picking up his traveling cloak, knowing it would be rather chilly outside by now.

After another perfunctory bow, Kibbly disappeared, bearing Harry's dinner tray. Shaking his head, Harry made his way over to the mirror.

"Impatiens," he said quietly, and the mirror swung forward to reveal a very narrow stone staircase.

"Lumos," Harry whispered, lighting his wand-tip. The staircase was not long, and Harry soon found himself facing a wooden door that he figured led right into Aberforth's charmed and warded garden. Nevertheless, he kept his wand at the ready as he pushed it open.

"No need for that, my lad," Aberforth's gravelly voice greeted him as he came through the door into the darkened garden. "Didn't I tell ya before, even Al couldn't get past these wards without my leave?"

Harry grinned and pocketed his wand. Judging by the height of the half-moon, it must have been nearly midnight, but that didn't surprise him much. He always seemed to lose track of time when he was working on Professor Dumbledore's papers.

"Sit down, Harry," Aberforth invited, lighting a lamp situated on a small cast-iron table, the same table at which they had talked following Dumbledore's death. "So, tell me," he continued as Harry took a seat opposite him, "have you found any of the horcruxes yet?"

"You knew?" Harry asked, though he was not particularly surprised. He had always suspected that Aberforth had known all along, or at least had some idea, of the contents of his brother's legacy.

"Aye," Aberforth confirmed. "Al was frightful worried about it, and frightful worried about you," he said candidly, gazing at Harry across the table.

Harry knew this to be true. Though Dumbledore had shown more confidence in him as the spring term had progressed and had finally stopped treating him like a child, Harry had not missed the frequent gazes the Headmaster had given him, gazes full of concern for everything Harry was being asked to do, gazes which plainly told that Dumbledore had come to regard Harry as much more than a student, but almost as more of a son or grandson. He had given Harry the last and plainest of these looks immediately before his own death.

"Al thought a lot of you," Aberforth commented. "He knew you could finish this off, otherwise he never would have gone the way he did."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously, but not without some dread.

"Albus had an idea that destroying that ring - that horcrux - would weaken him a damn sight more than he could afford. Why, then, would he do something like that in the middle of a battle, when he would need all his wits about him?"

"Why?" Harry whispered, for he had had the same question many times since the battle at Hyde Park. "And if you knew he was going to, why didn't you stop him?"

Aberforth laughed then, a gravelly, deep-throated laugh that seemed to reverberate around the fragrant garden, and Harry looked at him, open-mouthed. What could possibly be funny?

"Aberforth?" Harry asked quietly as the laughter died down.

"Sorry, my lad," Aberforth answered, wiping his eyes. "It's just...well, can you really imagine an old bumbler like me getting Albus not to do something he thought was important?"

Harry couldn't help but smile a little as he answered honestly, "Not really, I reckon." Catching the amused glint in the barman's eyes, he added hastily, "Not that you're a bumbler. I mean..."

"That's all right, Harry," Aberforth interrupted him, his expression becoming serious once more. "Truth is, Al pulled the same thing on Voldemort as he did on old Grindlewald back in 1945."

"Grindlewald used horcruxes?" Harry asked.

"No," Aberforth answered solemnly. "That one is unique to Voldemort."

"But I thought - " Harry began.

"Yeah, there's them that's tried it," Aberforth conceded, "but never like this. No, sir, our friend Tom Riddle is an individual, he is. Thought that one up all by himself."

Harry nodded slightly. "But what does this have to do with why Professor Dumbledore chose to destroy the horcrux right in front of Voldemort's face? It doesn't seem that letting the enemy know our strategy was a good idea."

"Circumstances demanded it, and Al reckoned that Voldemort would become obsessed with who had leaked his plan to the enemy." Aberforth shuddered slightly. "I wouldn't want to be Severus Snape right now."

"Snape," said Harry viciously, though he said nothing more. He had not yet said a word to anyone regarding Snape's role in the attack on Privet Drive, or even the fact that he was there. The truth was, while Snape had undoubtedly killed Vernon Dursley, Harry was remembering the rest of the battle in a different light. There had been several occasions at which it would have been simple for him to capture Harry and his aunt from the top of the stairs, yet he hadn't done so...why? Harry was determined to find out the answers from Snape himself, but the time had not yet come for that.

"Aye," Aberforth said, shaking his head darkly. "Piece of work, that one is, but he weren't the one who told Albus about the horcruxes. Voldemort won't believe that, though, and ain't no man living who deserves what's likely happening to Snape right about now."

Harry somehow doubted that. If anyone deserved it, Snape did.

"So how far have you gotten?" Aberforth asked, changing the subject rapidly.

"We know that we need to find Slytherin's locket, and we think that it might have been at Grimmauld Place, but we can't find it now." The frustration was evident in Harry's voice.

"Grimmauld Place, eh?" Aberforth responded ponderously. "What makes you think it was there?"

"Sirius's brother was a Death Eater, and his parents were dark wizards, even if they never joined up," Harry said. "And besides that, we saw it."

"You saw it?" Aberforth asked in surprise.

"Two summers ago, before my fifth year, Mrs. Weasley had us cleaning out the house so it would be fit for Headquarters. There was a locket that was really odd and wouldn't open, and Ginny remembered the inscription from Professor Dumbledore's notes, but we couldn't find it. Either it got binned or Mundungus Fletcher has it." Harry spat out this last name, for he was beginning to dislike Mundungus Fletcher with the same intensity he had previously reserved for Malfoy or Snape. He blamed Mundungus for leaving Arthur Weasley alone at the beginning of the battle, blamed him for what had happened, and if he had been nicking things from Grimmauld Place, Harry would see to it that he paid the price.

"Dung?" Aberforth said ponderingly. "Yeah, that fits. I heard he's gone underground. Is that true?"

"Yeah," Harry answered bitterly. "He Disapparated as soon as he saw the Dark Mark on Privet Drive and no one's seen him since."

Aberforth nodded. "I can keep an ear open in the pub," he told Harry. "Might be that it'll be the first place we'll hear of him, though he's not allowed in, himself."

Harry remembered how Dung had disguised himself as an old witch the day he had started the D.A. in his fifth year and nodded.

"Any progress on the rest of them?"

"Not yet. I've figured out that Professor Dumbledore thought there were four of them still out there besides Voldemort himself, and we know about the locket and Hufflepuff's cup, but nothing we've found so far seems like it would be something Voldemort would have chosen," Harry said, grimacing.

"You'll find 'em," Aberforth said positively. "I know you will. Just keep working on it. Did you get everything you needed tonight, by the way?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah," he answered. "Your house-elf is a bit..." He trailed off, not sure of the right word to describe Kibbly.

"Strange little bugger, isn't he?" Aberforth said with a grin, "but you won't find a more loyal creature in all the Wizarding world. He's just got that way over the years. He thinks Al and myself aren't careful enough and that we trust too many people, so he's taken it as his personal mission to suspect everybody who crosses our paths of treachery."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You'll win him over, Harry," Aberforth continued. "As soon as he figures out he can trust you, you won't find a friendlier elf anywhere, and that you may tie to. I'll have words with him, for all the good it'll do." He chuckled. "He's almost as old as I am, and though he follows orders, he's got a mind of his own."

Harry nodded and tried to stifle a yawn. It had been a long day, and he had much to do beginning the next morning.

"I'll let you get up to your bed," Aberforth said. "I've got to clean up the pub before I turn in myself."

"Clean up?" Harry asked before he thought to stop himself.

Aberforth laughed throatily. "Aye, lad, the Hog's Head ain't as dirty as you might think." He got up and smoothed his robes before offering Harry one last bit of advice. "I'd stay cloaked in the main areas, though, if I were you," he warned. "Doesn't have to be the Invisibility Cloak; I know those things can be right pains in the arse. Just keep your head, and especially your scar, covered. Your traveling cloak will do, and in my pub, no one's going to look askance at another hooded wizard."

"Ok," Harry said, standing up as well. "Thanks."

"Good night, my lad," Aberforth said, placing his hand briefly on Harry's shoulder. "If you need anything, my room's on the first floor right behind the pub, or just call for Kibbly."

"Good night, Aberforth," Harry responded, touched by the man's warmth; after all, they barely knew one another.

They walked silently toward the back entrances to the pub, and nodded as they went into the separate doors; Harry, back up to his room and Aberforth back in to "clean" the pub.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Harry was awoken the next morning by the bright sunlight filtering through the large, eastward-facing window in his room. He had had such a comfortable sleep that he wondered briefly whether there had been some kind of charm placed on the bed. He could remember no dreams, good or bad, and his body felt more rested than it had in weeks.

Almost as if an alarm had gone off the moment he had awoken, Kibbly appeared beside the bed just as Harry was putting his glasses on, bearing a tray containing a large breakfast, a gobletful of orange juice, and a heavy parchment envelope bearing Harry's name in emerald green ink.

"Master wishes Harry Potter to have some breakfast," Kibbly said, sporting the same untrusting look as he had the night before.

"Thanks, Kibbly," Harry said, sitting up and stretching. He was quite embarrassed when Kibbly put the tray right down on his lap. "Erm," he added, his face reddening, "I'll eat at the table if it's...erm...ok with you."

"Anything Harry Potter wishes is ok with Kibbly," the house-elf said, taking the tray once again and setting it on the small table. Though his words were kind, his tone was still rather surly, and Harry could tell that he had a long way to go before he would earn any real friendliness from this particular elf. "Is there anything else Harry Potter requires? There are fresh towels in your washroom, Sir."

"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. He'd never really known how to deal with having house-elves doing things for him, though he'd gotten rather used to Dobby over the years.

Kibbly bowed perfunctorily and disappeared, leaving Harry to eat his breakfast in silence. Before he began, however, Harry opened the parchment envelope on the tray and was not surprised to find a note from Professor McGonagall, who had already known that he was not returning to school and must have found out that he had come to Hogsmeade on the train from one of the students.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I would like to meet with you in my office sometime today if you are available. I believe we have several matters of great import to discuss.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry folded the note and placed it back into the envelope, abandoning his breakfast for another moment to search in his bag for the parchment, quill and inkpot he had packed before leaving Headquarters. When he found it, he scribbled a short note telling Professor McGonagall that he would come to the castle that very morning, after classes had commenced. He wanted to attract as little attention as possible to himself.

I wonder if she's still teaching Transfiguration, Harry thought. Professor Dumbledore hadn't taught classes, and he guessed that Professor McGonagall probably didn't do so anymore, either. As he quickly ate his breakfast and bathed, Harry wondered who the new Transfiguration teacher would be.

Following Aberforth's suggestion, Harry donned his traveling cloak along with his black school robes. He knew he wasn't required to wear them anymore, but the idea of going to the school in anything else was strange enough that Harry decided he'd rather just go with it. His school robes were among his most comfortable clothing, anyway. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head like he had seen many of the patrons of the Hog's Head do, Harry left his room and walked quietly downstairs to the main entrance of the pub.

As Aberforth had predicted, no one gave Harry as much as a second glance as he walked to the bar, briefly told Aberforth where he was going, and walked out onto one of the side roads in Hogsmeade. Setting a brisk pace, Harry took deep breaths of the crisp fall air as he walked toward the main entrance of the school. He had not yet gone to the Ministry to obtain his Apparation license, and even though Harry knew he was unlikely to be caught, he had a little time to kill if he wanted to reach Hogwarts after morning classes had commenced.

He found the gates to the grounds closed tight, and for a moment, Harry wasn't sure what to do. Was there a password he had to speak, or a spell he had to perform? Taking out his wand, he looked down at it in confusion and some regret. He found it difficult to swallow that the gates of the school remained closed to him, but as he gazed at his wand, his eyes fell on the light wooden band around its base.

No time like the present to try it out, Harry thought. He pointed his wand into the school grounds and focused his thoughts on Professor McGonagall. I can't get into the grounds, he thought, and his wand grew momentarily warm in his hand before he saw a smaller, more transparent version of his patronus shoot out of the tip and race towards the castle. Moments later, the gates opened and Harry walked up the familiar pathway to the school.