Where Do I Go From Here?

The man was Aberforth Dumbledore, just as Harry had suspected. Although he bore some resemblance to his late brother, he was rougher around the edges, both physically and in the way he conducted himself. For a brief second, Harry guiltily realized that Aberforth must have felt the loss of his brother even stronger than most others, even though he didn't much show it.

"Are you here to lead the Order?" asked Harry, unsure of what to say next.

Giving Harry a stern look, Aberforth replied gruffly, "Yes, I am, Harry Potter." The old man removed his traveling cloak, and Harry noticed that he was dressed in mostly browns and tans, a stark contrast to Dumbledore's bright purples, golds, blues, and reds that he so often had donned. Noticing Harry's eyes studying him, Aberforth barked, "Well, are you just going to stare, boy, or are you going to lead me into the kitchen?"

"Oh, sorry," Harry muttered, looking away. "It's just that-"

"Yes?"

"You... you sort of look like your brother, sir, but you don't. I mean, you still reminded me of him." Harry shrugged helplessly, noticing that the Weasleys had gone into the kitchen already, leaving him alone with the surly codger.

Aberforth's lined face softened some, and placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, he said in a tone much gentler than previously, "It's okay, my boy. You are not the first to say that, but like you said, I am not my brother. First of all, I am very nearly twenty years younger than him." At Harry's surprised look, the old wizard chuckled. "Not that you would notice once a wizard like me is well over a hundred years old. Anyway, Albus was a very good man - always had a heart of a child, he did, but from what I know, for he told me everything himself, he was very proud of you. He called you 'His Man,' Harry. Albus had a lot of friends, but few were ever so dear to him as you were... and are. He loved you, you know."

Feeling the stinging of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, Harry blinked them away and nodded, afraid his voice would betray him should he dare speak. "I- I never knew that he told you so much," he finally managed.

"Yes, well... I suppose I was his secret weapon of sorts. He confined much in me in case something ever happened to him. I'm sorry we were never formally introduced when Albus was still with us, but his death will not be in vain. You were left to finish what he started, but you are far from alone, Harry. You have allies that you may be surprised to learn."

This last statement was cryptic, much in the same manner in which Dumbledore had many times spoken. There was a gleam in Aberforth's dull blue eyes that was also reminiscent of Dumbledore, and just as Harry was about to ask him what he meant, Aberforth assumed a stiffened composure, stating, "It is time for the meeting to begin. Come along, Harry."

With a sigh, Harry followed him into the kitchen, where the next two hours were spent hashing over half-assumed truthful information, and Harry reluctantly admitted defeat thus far in his quest for the horcruxes. The overall feeling wasn't very conducive to promising much hope, and by the end of the meeting, about the only thing positive for Harry was that Ginny was still going to be accompanying them on their mission.

Hermione, meanwhile, paid close attention to anything that was said about Snape and his supposed whereabouts. No one in the Order seemed pleased to be discussing the man whom they believed to be a traitor of the most vile sort, but she was keenly attuned to the fact that Aberforth kept discussion to a minimun regarding Snape, and oddly enough, the aged wizard seemed almost calm about the whole affair. She thought for sure that he would have been one of the most enraged of the group, what with Dumbledore having been his brother and all.

Feeling cramped and tired, Hermione was glad when the meeting ended. Harry was talking with Aberforth, and Ron and Ginny were still talking with their parents and siblings, but everyone else had left. She felt very much alone all of a sudden, for she had not seen her own parents in quite some time, and even Harry, it seemed, now had someone to talk to. Sure, she had her friends, but despite her feelings for Ron not so long ago, she found that she wasn't growing as close to him as she would have imagined six months or a year earlier.

Standing up, Hermione slipped out of the kitchen and into the hallway, tired of looking at the same thread-bare rugs, worn wooden floors, and chipped walls and ceilings. It was still summer, after all, and bound to be quite mild outside. She felt the fresh air might do her some good.

And so, going out the front door, Hermione began walking aimlessly about the yard, glancing around. The hour was quite late, so no one was outside. She heard only the barking of a dog off in the distance and the rustling of the leaves on the trees. The amount of light from the nearest streetlamp was meagre at best, but the blackness of night didn't scare her. She felt rather relaxed as she strolled along, but then, she stopped, her eyes narrowing in on a darker area ahead. For a split second, she could have sworn she had seen a slight movement in the bushes that wasn't plant or animal.

"Who- who's there?" she asked, reaching for her wand. Oh, I was a fool to come out here like this!

Just as she mentally berated herself, Hermione saw something move again, only with more determination this time, as if to escape. Without hesitation, Hermione mentally cast Stupefy. She heard a thump in the bushes and went to investigate. Murmuring Lumos, she knelt down on the damp, grassy ground and held her wand up to the person's face.

She gasped.

Looking back up at her was none other than Severus Snape.