Dark Pasts { A Harry Potter Story }

Chapter 107 - Ariana Dumbledore

As soon as my feet touched the ground, a terrible screeching echoed throughout Hogsmeade and I knew immediately that our appearance had caused it. The door of the Three Broomsticks flew open and a dozen Death Eaters came rushing out into the street.

"Spread out," one of them said. "He's here."

The four of us exchanged a nervous look before backing away as quickly as possible down the nearest side street.

"Let's just leave!" Hermione whispered. "Disapparate now!"

"We know you're here, Potter, and there's no getting away! We'll find you!" a Death Eater shouted.

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

"What about dementors?" another Death Eater said. "Let 'em have free rein, they'd find him quick enough!"

"The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hand but his —"

"— an' dementors won't kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter'slife, not his soul. He'll be easier to kill if he's been Kissed first!"

I was filled with dread: to repel the dementors we would have to use our Patronuses, which would immediately give us away.

"We're going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!" Hermione whispered.

Even as she spoke we were engulfed in darkness as the unnatural cold wrapped itself around us. I felt Hermione grab my arm and we turned on the spot, but the air seemed to have become solid, and it became clear to us that we could not Disapparate.

The cold bit deeper into my skin as I saw, through the darkness, at least ten dementors gliding down the street. I whimpered quietly, but then a door opened on the left-hand side of the street and a man spoke.

"Potter, in here, quick!"

Harry obeyed without hesitation, pulling me forward with him through the threshold, Hermione and Ron on our heels.

"Upstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!" the man instructed.

I noticed as we headed for the stairs that we had walked into the Hog's Head Inn. We climbed the stairs quickly and arrived in a small sitting room. A fire was burning low in the fireplace, above which hung a large oil painting of a blonde girl.

Harry drew the curtains shut and pulled the Cloak off us. I could hear the barman rebolting the door of the bar downstairs before he climbed up.

"You bloody fools," he said. "What were you thinking, coming here?"

"Thank you," Harry said. "We can't thank you enough. You saved our lives."

The man simply grunted.

"It's your eye I've been seeing in the mirror," Harry said suddenly, causing me to frown. "You sent Dobby."

He nodded. "Thought he'd be with you. Where've you left him?"

"He's dead," Harry said. "Bellatrix Lestrange killed him."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. "I'm sorry to hear it. I liked that elf."

"You're Aberforth," Harry went on.

The man said nothing.

"How did you get this?" Harry asked as he pointed at what I recognized as Sirius' mirror on the mantelpiece.

"Bought it from Dung 'bout a year ago," Aberforth said. "Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you."

Harry said nothing.