Ginny sat back down, staring at Aberforth. "Have you?"

"Oh, no, not face to face. But I know his name. And I know what he was. Better than you, girl, because I knew him longer than you. Like my brother." He settled back into his own chair, filled the glass and pushed it across the table to Ginny with one finger. "Make that last. There's no more except what I'll be drinking."

"Thanks." She cupped the glass in her hands. "What do you mean, you know what he was?"

Aberforth took a pull from the bottle. "A man who made a bad mistake."

"And who did everything he could to make up for it," Ginny countered.

"Did I say he didn't?"

"Then why doesn't he deserve help?"

"Did I say he doesn't?"

"You did, actually," Ginny said. "Quite explicitly."

"I don't think I did," Aberforth said. "I think I said that it shouldn't be you doing the helping. There's a castle full of Professors older than twenty-five. There's a hospital full of healers, and Ministry full of Aurors, and the Order of the Phoenix, what's left of us." He took another drink from the bottle, and Ginny sipped from her glass, to be companionable. "Let him ask us for help. That's what we're for."

"And if he doesn't, if he won't?"

"Then I'd say that's his lookout, wouldn't you?" Aberforth shrugged. "He might have his reasons. Might think like I do, that you've got better things to do with your young lives than fret over the troubles of people well able to take care of themselves."

Ginny took a sizable swig of her Firewhisky. "Well, that's me told, then. But if you were going to be helpful, Mr Dumbledore, what could you tell me?"

The old wizard screwed up his face. Ginny had given up hope of getting an answer when he suddenly said, "He didn't have friends, you know. When he was young. He never had the talent for it. For plenty of other things, though, he had talent, talent and power to burn. That's a bad combination." He fixed her with a sharp blue gaze. "Do you know why?"

"Because …" Ginny paused, feeling suddenly that this was an important answer to get right. She thought back to her first years at Hogwarts, to all the people who'd wanted to be Harry's friend because he was the Boy Who Lived and the way he'd looked at them with slight bemusement and with irritation and gone back to talking to Ron and Hermione. "Because there are people who are drawn to power, and that can look like being drawn to the person who has the power, if they don't have anything to compare it to."

Aberforth nodded. "He was hard to like." Ginny opened her mouth and he shot her a sharp glance. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. I'm hard to like. Cuts down on the meaningless interactions with idiots."

"I like you," Ginny said, honestly. More than Professor Dumbledore, really. Albus Dumbledore had been powerful, and wise, and awe-inspiring. Aberforth Dumbledore had grumbled every day about the inconvenience keeping Dumbledore's Army fed put him to, and the amount teenagers ate, and their idiotic stubbornness at not taking themselves off to safety — and had never missed a meal delivery, and had tucked in little paper bags that turned out to contain Fizzing Whizbees and Every Flavour Beans and chocolate frogs, and had managed to find out when their birthdays so he could include a cake and a badly wrapped pair of socks with that evening's delivery.

Aberforth laughed. "So you see," he said, as if he'd explained everything. He pointed at her glass. "Finish that, and be on your way. I've got customers to see through."

Ginny finished her drink alone in the back room, and headed back to Hogwarts in a thoughtful mood — or as thoughtful a mood as she could be in after half-a-bottle of Firewater.

Mindful of the new protocols Harry had insisted on — no-one goes anywhere alone — she stopped at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, raised her wand, and sent up a shower of green sparks.

She didn't have to wait long before Ron and Harry Apparated in a few feet away. They must have been waiting at the gate.

"Hello, you," she said. "Come to take me home side-along and spare me the walk?"

"You've been drinking with Aberforth Dumbledore," Harry said. "I think you probably need the walk."

"True," Ginny said. She linked one arm through Harry's and the other through Ron's. "But then you'll have to wait all that time to find out what I found out."

They turned her around between them and started back towards the school. "How's Aberforth otherwise?" Harry asked.

"Angry," Ginny said sadly.

Ron frowned. "At you?"

She shook her head. "No. At the world, maybe. At what happened in the war." She thought for a moment. "At us."

"Us?" Harry said. "What have we done to him?"

"Become Aurors and teachers and not gone off to have fun."

Harry snorted. "That's a bit rich," he said. "Since his whole grudge against Albus was that Albus, when he was our age, wanted to go off and have fun and not take care of Ariana. And Albus regretted that his whole life, Aberforth knows that now."

"I dunno, mate," Ron said. "It makes a sort of sense to me. It ruined all three of them, in different ways, didn't it? Two kids and one young bloke, left to fend for themselves, to be responsible when the brothers weren't ready and Ariana wasn't able."

"So?" Ginny said.

Ron shrugged, and then steadied Ginny when the movement put her off balance. "So remember — oh, Ginny you weren't there — when we came back to Hogwarts that last time, he was hopping mad at Albus for putting it on Harry to take on Voldy. Said it wasn't fair, said Harry was too young."

"It wasn't Albus who put it on me," Harry said. "It was just how it was."

"I know that," Ron said. "But old Aberforth — he didn't like it at all."

"He said tonight that …" Ginny caught herself. "That if someone were needing help, they could ask the older professors or the Ministry or the Order, and leave us out of it."

Ron nodded. "It's the same, isn't it? The same argument. Young people shouldn't have to be responsible."

"Like Albus had to be responsible," Harry said slowly, and then, "Ginny. Someone … you didn't tell him, did you?"

"He knew," Ginny said. "Didn't say a name, or anything, but he knew."

They reached the gates, which opened for them. "Did he say anything useful? Like who else might know?"

Ginny shook her head. "He talked about not having friends."

"Well, he shouldn't be such a grumpy old bastard," Ron said.

"Not Aberforth. The other one." Ginny squinted, bringing the memory back into focus. "That he didn't have a talent for making friends, but he had lots of other talents, and he had power, and that was what was dangerous."

"I knew that," Harry said. "It's still true. He's still as nasty as he knows how to be."

"I dunno," Ginny said. "He seemed to think he'd told me something important." They reached the castle and headed through the corridors towards Gryffindor Tower. She yawned. "I'll think about it in the morning."

At her door, Ron took a small vial from his pocket and put it in her hand. "Here," he said. "It's my very last Hangover Begone."

"Oh, Ron." Ginny threw her arms around him. "You're my favourite brother, after Charlie and Bill and George."

"Thanks very much," Ron said. "And you're my favourite sister, after Hermione."

Ginny swatted his shoulder, unlocked her door, stumbled to her bed and fell face down and immediately asleep.

In the morning, she gulped down the contents of the vial gratefully and lay with her head under her pillow until she could feel the Hangover Begone begin to work. A shower and a substantial breakfast completed the repairs, and she felt positively bright and cheerful as she made her way over to the Hospital Wing for her daily appointment with Madam Pomfrey.

"How has it been feeling?" the matron asked as she briskly rubbed salve into Ginny's shoulder.

"Ever so much better," Ginny said truthfully. In fact, she wouldn't have known the shoulder had ever been wrenched from how it felt. However … Less truthfully, she flexed her arm as she pulled her shirt back on and pretended to wince. "It will be fine soon, I'm sure of it."

"Well, just because it feels alright doesn't mean you're fully fit," Poppy Pomfrey said. "You'll need to come in every day for, oh, at least the next two weeks."

Ginny met the matron's gaze, which was wide and innocent. "Yes," she said slowly. "I think that's probably wise. Perhaps longer."

Madam Pomfrey patted her on the shoulder. "As long as you need to be here, Miss Weasley. Oh, I'm sorry, I should call you Madam Weasley now, shouldn't I? Since you're on staff, if sadly only temporarily."

"You could call me Ginny," Ginny suggested.

"And you could call me Poppy," the matron said and they smiled at each other.

"Poppy," Ginny said carefully. "You know, being back here … it's made me think again, about everything that happened."

Poppy Pomfrey sat down on the bed beside Ginny. "Oh, dear," she said. "Do you need something to help you sleep?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, I don't mean … not like that. Just … wondering about things, things I didn't know at the time, and still don't really. Like …" She took a deep breath. "Like about Professor Snape. Did you — did any of you — suspect he wasn't really on Voldemort's side?"

"I'm ashamed to say, we didn't," Poppy said sadly.

"I suppose …" He didn't have friends … He never had the talent for it … Aberforth had thought that was important to tell her. "I suppose he wasn't close to anyone, was he? Not friends. Apart from Professor Dumbledore. So how would anyone guess?"

The matron frowned a little. "Whatever gave you that idea? Severus has never been an easy person — I should say, never was an easy person — but he was a colleague for sixteen years, and a trusted one."

"Yes, but he was so …" Ginny's voice trailed off as she remembered Potions classes. Unpleasant. Unlikeable. Rude. Cruel.

"Sharp-tongued?" Poppy suggested with a small smile. "Yes, he certainly was. But you'll learn, dear, that you can get along with just about anyone if you learn to make certain allowances, and to appreciate their good qualities. Even in his first years here, when he was so … well, I remembered him and Lily, you see, so I understood why. But even then, if there was trouble, if a student was in danger, he was always there, often first." She gave an amused chuckle. "Oh, you probably think that the Weasleys invented students getting into trouble and danger, but I promise you that's not the case."

"So the other teachers … liked Professor Snape? Were friends with him?" Ginny asked, trying hard to imagine it. Professor Snape, out for a pint with his colleagues. Professor Snape, exchanging Christmas presents. Professor Snape, lending a sympathetic ear … Her mind boggled at the mental image.

"Some more than others," Poppy said. "He and Filius had their disagreements over which of their subjects was more important. And of course all the Heads of Houses wanted their House to win at Quidditch, and the House Cup. But you can be friends with someone even if they don't cheer for the Harpies, can't you, dear?"

"Yes, I suppose," Ginny said absently, mind whirling. What on earth did Aberforth mean, then? "I'm sorry, Poppy, I've really got to go and find someone."

"Of course," Poppy said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Ginny nodded, and left the Hospital Wing at a fast clip, heading towards the Forbidden Forest.