This is a bit of an oddball. It's not enough to be considered a crossover, but it is about references to the movie Frozen.

I did a bit of copy and pasting, and my writing is mediocre, to say the least. You have been warned.

"Got to? Why got to? He's dead, isn't he?" said Aberforth roughly. "Let it go, boy!"

Harry smirked. A wide grin crept onto his face.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Ron buried his face in his hands, knowing what was coming. Hermione wore a rather strained expression.

"I can't leave," said Harry. "I've got a job "

"Give it to someone else!"

"I can't. It's got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all "

"Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?"

Harry wanted him with all his heart to say "Yes," but somehow the simple word would not rise to his lips, Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking.

"I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother's knee. Secrets and lies, that's how we grew up, and Albus, he was a natural."

Harry chuckled.

The old man's eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was, now Harry looked around properly, the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore, nor of anyone else.

"Mr. Dumbledore" said Hermione rather timidly. "Is that your sister? Ariana?"

"Yes." said Aberforth coldly.

He met Aberforth's gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers': The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were freezing the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it.

"Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much," said Hermione in a low voice.

"Did he now?" said Aberforth. "Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he'd left 'em well alone."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione breathlessly.

"Never you mind," said Aberforth.

"But that's a really serious thing to say!" said Hermione. "Are you are you talking about your sister?"

Aberforth glared at her: His lips moved as if he were chewing the words he was holding back. Then he burst into speech.

"When my sister was six years old, she was attacked, by three Muggle boys. They'd seen her building magical snowmen, spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid, she couldn't control it, no witch or wizard can at that age. What they saw, scared them, I expect. They forced their way through the hedge, and when she couldn't show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it."

Hermione's eyes were huge in the firelight; Ron looked slightly sick. Harry, however, was grinning like a madman. Aberforth stood up.

"It destroyed her, what they did: She was never right again. She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn't control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless."

"We had to keep her safe and quiet. We moved house, put it about she was ill, and my mother looked after her, and tried to keep her calm and happy."

"I was her favorite," he said, and as he said it, a grubby schoolboy seemed to look out through Aberforth's wrinkles and wrangled beard. "Not Albus, he was always up in his bedroom when he was home, reading his books and counting his prizes, keeping up with his correspondence with the most notable magical names of the day,"

Aberforth scowled. "He didn't want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could get her to eat when she wouldn't do it for my mother, I could calm her down, when she was in one of her rages, and when she was quiet, she used to help me shovel snow."

"Then, when she was fourteen... See, I wasn't there." said Aberforth. "If I'd been there, I could have calmed her down. She had one of her rages, and my mother wasn't as young as she was, and... it was an accident. Ariana couldn't control it. But my mother was killed."

"So that put paid to Albus's trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of 'em came home for my mother's funeral and then Doge went off on his own, and Albus settled down as head of the family. Ha!"

Aberforth spat into the fire.

"I'd have looked after her, I told him so, I didn't care about school, I'd have stayed home and done it."

He told me I had to finish my education and he'd take over from my mother. Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, there's no prizes for looking after your depressed sister, stopping her freezing the house every other day. But he did all right for a few weeks... till he came."

And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth's face.

"Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and manipulative as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all Wizardkind, and if one young girl neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good?"

"But after a few weeks of it, I'd had enough, I had. It was nearly time for me to go back to Hogwarts, so I told 'em, both of 'em, face-to-face, like I am to you, now," and Aberforth looked downward Harry "I told him, you'd better give it up now. He didn't like that." said Aberforth, and his eyes were briefly occluded by the fire light on the lenses of his glasses: They turned white and blind again. "Grindelwald didn't like that at all. He got angry. He told me what a stupid little boy I was, trying to stand in the way of him and my brilliant brother... Didn't I understand, my poor sister wouldn't have to be hidden once they'd changed the world, and led the wizards out of hiding, and taught the Muggles their place?"

"And there was an argument... and I pulled my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Freezing Curse used on me by my brother's best friend and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldn't stand it"

The color was draining from Aberforth's face as though he had been hit by an icy blast

" and I think she wanted to help, but she didn't really know what she was doing, and Grindelwald pulled out a sword, and she was dead."

His voice broke on the last word and he dropped down into the nearest chair. Hermione's face was wet with tears, and Ron was almost as pale as the average cryokinetic. Harry felt nothing but irony: He wished he had not heard it, wished he could wash is mind clean of it. The puns and references he could make right now were, to say the least, mind boggling.

"For the first time in forever, I finally understand," Hermione whispered.

"Gone," croaked Aberforth. "Gone forever."

He wiped his nose on his cuff and cleared his throat.

" 'Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn't want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn't he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the..."

"He never let it go," said Harry.

"I beg your pardon?" said Aberforth.

"Never," said Harry.

Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands. After a long pause he said. "How can you be sure you aren't dispensable, just like my little sister?"

A shard of ice seemed to pierce Harry's heart.

"I don't believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry," said Hermione. "It was True Loooove"

"Why didn't he tell him to hide, then?" shot back Aberforth. "Why didn't he say to him, Conceal, don't feel, don't let You-know-who know?"

"Conceal, don't feel" muttered Harry. He was fighting a losing battle against the urge to laugh.

"What did you say, boy?" said Aberforth. His eyes twinkled in the light of the fire.

"Just let it go," said Harry

"Oh, really?" said Aberforth, leaning forward.

"Oh, Harry, if only there was someone who loved you."

Harry choked.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused," said Ron.

"We need to get into Hogwarts," said Harry again. "If you can't help us, we'll wait till the break of dawn and try to find a way in ourselves."

"You're crazy, boy!" said Aberforth.

"I love crazy," replied Harry.

Aberforth snorted. "Built too many snowmen then, as a young child. Did all that ice-olation in your closet make you crazy?"

"Well..." said Harry, "When I first came out of it, I sang this really stupid catchy song."

Harry continued, "And then, I ran away to Hogwarts, and lived in a castle, like I've always wanted. And I tried to freeze Crabbe and Goyle to the ceiling, but... yeah."

"Yep, He's mentally insa-" began Aberforth

"Yeah, but that's not the point!" interjected Harry."The point is, then, I got cut off from the internet fandom, and I became... unstable."

The room was dead silent for a moment.

"Can you talk to paintings?" said Aberforth, to break the ice.

"What?"

Aberforth remained fixed in his chair, staring at Harry. At last he cleared his throat, got to his feet, and approached the portrait of Ariana.

"You know what to do," he said.

She smiled, turned, and walked away, not as people in portraits usually did, one of the sides of their frames, but along what seemed to be a long ice bridge painted behind her. They watched her slight figure retreating until finally she was swallowed by the darkness.

"The heck-?" began Ron.

"There's only one way in now," said Aberforth. "How you expect to do anything once you get inside it, with Snape in charge and the Carrows as his deputies... well, that's your lookout, isn't it? You say you're prepared to die."

"Life's too short to waste another minute," said Harry. "Do you wanna find some Horcr-"

"Just let me in!" yelled Ron, who was growing impatient.

A tiny white dot reappeared at the end of the painted ice bridge, and now Ariana was walking back toward them, growing bigger and bigger as she came. But there was somebody else with her now, someone taller than she was, who was sliding along, looked like he was in severe pain. His hair was longer than Harry had ever seen. Larger and larger the two figures grew, until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait.

Then the whole thing swang forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to a real tunnel was revealed. And out of it, his hair overgrown, his face cut, his robes ripped, came out the real Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of pain, fell down from the mantelpiece and yelled.

"I can't feel my legs!"

That didn't exactly come out as I wanted it, but whatever.

I swear , as soon as I started thinking of Ariana as Elsa from another dimension, it all made sense to me.

I thought about changing some names, but it didn't really work out.

So...

Yep. Those are the author's notes. Bye.