Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine.

A/N: I apologize for the horrible delay in getting this chapter up. And it's not even done. This is only half a chapter. I plan on publishing it in two parts, just because I need to get some sort of update up. Again, sorry.

Chapter 7: R.A.B.

Silence reigned in the cellar of Aberforth Dumbledore's grimy Hogsmeade pub. Dumbledore's trunk was momentarily forgotten as Harry and Ron realized the magnitude of their discovery. Finally, Ron cleared his throat and spoke up.

"How did you find out?" he asked incredulously. "It took me a week of poring over 20th Century Wizarding History just to figure out that his first name began with 'R.'"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry confusedly. "Sirius told us his first name in fifth year."

"Maybe he told you, but he certainly didn't tell me," said Ron, giving Harry a strange look.

"I'm pretty sure you were there, Ron," said Harry slowly, "but maybe you just forgot. Anyway, I only just realized that he's actually R.A.B. I was reading about him earlier today in the Auror Facebook that Moody gave me. It's like a list of Death Eaters that tells you all about their backgrounds and stuff."

However, instead of enlightening Ron, Harry's explanation only caused Ron's brow to furrow. "Why was he in a list of Death Eaters? As far as I heard, he never joined with You-Know-Who."

"Ron," said Harry with a grin, "Regulus Black was Sirius's Death Eater brother. I can't believe you've already completely forgotten that."

Ron stared at Harry for a long moment, and then burst out laughing. Harry and Hermione both looked at him warily. With an effort, Ron contained his mirth and shook his head.

"No wonder you looked so bloody confused," he said, still grinning. "R.A.B. doesn't stand for Regulus Arcturus Black. It stands for Rutherford Algernon Borgin!"

Harry frowned. "Borgin? How do you figure that?"

"Simple," said Ron happily. "You-Know-Who used to work at Borgin and Burke's, right? The letter to 'The Dark Lord' isn't written very formally. It's more like something you would write to an employee, not something a Death Eater would write to someone they used to treat like a god."

"And he owns that shop," Hermione chipped in, realization making her brown eyes sparkle. "If anyone would know about dark artifacts like Horcruxes, it would be Borgin! He must be a powerful wizard to have collected everything in that shop, so he might have been able to get past those protections. Oh, Ron, you're a genius!"

With that, Hermione gave Ron a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, causing the redhead to blush furiously, muttering about how it was nothing and anyone could have come up with the answer. On the other hand, Harry was not so easily convinced. Oh, he understood the logic behind Ron's choice, but he wasn't quite ready to give up on Regulus Black. Every instinct in his body screamed that R.A.B. was Regulus, not Borgin. And his intuition had served him well in the past.

"You're missing something, Ron," said Harry, causing Ron and Hermione to break hurriedly apart. "Borgin's still walking and talking. R.A.B. says that he expects to be dead before Voldemort reads the note."

"But he could have been wrong," countered Ron. "I thought about that, but Borgin is just the perfect man for the job. Maybe Borgin expected You-Know-Who to find out, but he never did. Whatever it was, there's loads of reasons why Borgin might have survived."

"I'm still not convinced," said Harry, "but this isn't really the time to argue. We ought to be getting back upstairs, or Moody and Aberforth will probably come down and check on us right when we're in the middle of talking about the Horcruxes."

Ron and Hermione nodded, and the three headed back up the stairs together. Harry walked in front carrying Dumbledore's trunk, which forced Ron and Hermione to climb the narrow staircase behind him. As Harry neared the top, he could hear voices coming out of the pub above. He paused, wanting to make sure that there were no guests at the bar who might spot him. He heard Aberforth say something unintelligible, but as he strained his ears, he just managed to pick up the tail end of the sentence.

"…him here indefinitely. What do you suggest we do about him?"

However, it was not Moody who answered, but a different voice. It was too low for Harry to understand the words, but the tone sounded hauntingly familiar. Before he could recognize the voice he was hearing, Moody broke in.

"You'd better clear out of here, Potter's coming," he growled. Harry heard a loud crash, followed by the clumping sound of Moody's wooden leg limping across the pub's floor. The door at the top of the staircase opened, allowing a thin shaft of dim light to pass. Moody stuck his face into the crack and peered down at Harry.

"All right, Potter, you can come on up now," he grunted, allowing the door to swing open. Harry trudged up the rest of the stairs with Ron and Hermione in his wake. As he re-entered the bar, he discovered that the crashing sound had been caused by an overturned cauldron. Aberforth was in the process of siphoning away the acid green potion that had spilled. As Harry entered the room, Aberforth straightened up.

"Did you hear anything to spark your interest?" he asked casually, but his eyes were shifting nervously. It was clear to Harry that he had overheard a snippet of conversation that Aberforth had hoped to keep secret. He glanced over at Moody, but the old Auror was better at controlling his emotions than Aberforth. Harry could read nothing from his face.

"Relax," said Harry, "I didn't hear anything worthwhile. I'm guessing you're not about to tell me who you were talking to?"

"Too right we're not," grumbled Moody. "It's absolutely none of your business. But we do have to talk with you about a different matter. Aberforth?"

Aberforth nodded, picking up where Moody left off. "I was fascinated to hear the details of your new training regimen. I doff my cap to you for accepting your role in this war and learning the fighting arts with Alastor. However, I must confess that I am worried about several valuable skills that you are probably not going to learn from someone as…law-abiding, shall we say, as an Auror."

Moody snorted at this, but Aberforth continued in a slightly louder voice. "I have some unique magical skills that I think you will find useful. As a matter of fact, my brother came to me just a month before he died, asking for advice on how to…find items that others do not want found."

"He means stealing, Potter," said Moody distastefully. "The man's nearly as talented as his brother, but he chooses to be a common criminal."

"A criminal, yes," said Aberforth blithely. "Hardly common. And as immoral as thievery may be, it certainly tops the life of animal barbarism that my brother chose in his younger days."

"Albus quit fighting and developed a moral compass a century ago," replied Moody acidly. "As far as I can tell, you never got that far."

"I blame our upbringing," said Aberforth with a small laugh. "But this is pointless. Albus thought my skills were necessary for his pet project, and if Potter plans on continuing it, he must learn them as well. Whether you approve or not, Alastor."

"Hang on, can we go back a little bit?" said a very confused Harry. "What were you saying about Professor Dumbledore and animal fighting?"

"Not animal fighting, human fighting," corrected Aberforth. "My brother dueled professionally in some of the more violent underground circuits in Europe. The winners rolled in Galleons, prostitutes, and hallucinogens. The losers went hungry, if they were lucky. Most of the time, the losers either died in the ring or died of their wounds not long after."

Noting the shocked look on Harry's face, Moody chipped in. "You've got to understand, Potter, Albus never killed his opponents. He was skilled enough to dominate his competition without murdering them. Most of his peers weren't."

"Most of them didn't want to be," added Aberforth grimly. "You have never met people like that, Harry. Not even Death Eaters can compare. They were shockingly barbaric men who reveled in the blood that bathed their wands and were paid to do it. Albus finally left that arena after thirty years, but he could never shake off his reputation. Even when he was Headmaster of Hogwarts, aspiring fighters still came to him, hoping to learn the secrets that made him invincible. But Albus never accepted them as pupils. He washed his hands of that world a century ago."

Harry shook his head, unable to accept what Professor Dumbledore's brother was telling him. The Albus Dumbledore that Aberforth was describing had nothing in common with the benevolent, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts that Harry knew and loved.

"Why on earth would Professor Dumbledore do something like that for a living?" said Harry, repulsed by the very idea.

"It's how we were raised," said Aberforth simply. "Our father did not want us to be upstanding, polite citizens. He was an awful man, and he was obsessed with turning us into hard-nosed fighters who would help him intimidate his rivals. Fortunately as we grew older, we began to rebel against his notions of a dog-eat-dog world. Albus severed ties with him entirely when he left the dueling scene, and I gradually phased him out of my life as well. Understand, Harry, that while the younger Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore were not nice men, that had no bearing on our later personalities. Albus changed for the better, as did I."

Moody sat silently throughout the explanation, sipping idly at his burning amber Firewhiskey. As Aberforth finished, Moody leaned back and heaved a long sigh.

"It's why Albus was so willing to believe that people can change and fight their upbringing. It's why Albus was so willing to trust Snape. He had to believe that Snape could change, because he knew that a century ago, Albus Dumbledore had the exact same problem and chose to do the right thing."

Harry sat in stunned silence. He wanted to respond and react to what Aberforth and Moody had told him, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. It finally took Ron to break the silence.

"Blimey," he muttered, "I sure didn't see that coming. What about this stealing thing, though? I don't want to give anything away, but that sounds like it's going to come in pretty bloody handy. When do we start learning that?"

"Whenever you like," replied Aberforth, spreading his arms invitingly. "However, I must be frank a moment. I think it would be a waste of time for you and Ms. Granger to learn what I have to teach. The techniques I have to offer require a certain amount of raw magical strength to use properly. Unless I am sorely mistaken, only Harry has the requisite power to successfully use what I have to teach. I am truly sorry, but that is simply the fact of the matter."

"Power?" said Harry curiously. Aberforth's words reminded him strongly of the prophecy. "Is it some kind of power that only I have?"

"Don't be stupid, Potter," grunted Moody. "How would Aberforth know how to teach you his skills if only you had the strength to use them?"

"Right," mumbled Harry. "Sorry, I was just thinking of something else. So when do I start training with Aberforth?"

"We'll see," said Moody darkly. "I still have a lot to teach you, and no matter what Aberforth says, everything you're learning is essential if you're going to survive against Lord Voldemort."

Ron winced at Voldemort's name, and Moody whirled on him sharply. "Don't cringe, boy! When he's got you at wandpoint, then you can bloody well cringe! Have some respect for yourself, for Merlin's sake."

Moody's tirade was interrupted by a knock on the door. Clearly someone had heard the noise inside and decided that the pub was in fact open, despite the blatant "CLOSED" sign blocking the moldy door. Moody's magical eye whirled in its socket, and his hand twitched towards his wand. However, after a second's inspection, the old man relaxed.

"Just a drunk," he muttered disdainfully. "Come on, Potter, let's get out of here. Aberforth, you ought to take these two back to the wedding. People might start wondering if they're gone much longer. If anyone asks about us, tell 'em that old Mad-Eye got a fright and took Harry back home. They'll swallow that one for sure."

Aberforth nodded, and Moody stuck out his arm. Harry latched on tightly, and after a moment's blackness, they were back at the forested Apparition Point on Moody's property.

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A/N:

Again, I'm truly sorry for the delay. As I said above, this is only half a chapter. I'll upload the second half separately. I just haven't had the time to write it. Why was I delayed in writing it? Well, a lot of reasons, but basically I've just been extremely busy, and in the rare time that I got to write, I had massive writer's block. Hopefully I'll be able to get the next half of this chapter up by next weekend, but I'm not making any guarantees.

On a happier note, thanks to my reviewers: craziest1, Darksentinant, japanese-jew, HP55, Lord Purity, 10ded, Dumbledore, and valandil.

A couple of points:

The identity of R.A.B. is still undecided. There's a branch of the plot for a Borgin R.A.B. and a branch for a Regulus R.A.B., and I've got an idea of where I'd go with both of them. In Deathly Hallows, I think R.A.B. will be Regulus Black, based on clues from outside the books. That said, I think that Borgin is actually the better candidate, going purely on plot points. Both branches will be interesting to write, but whichever way I choose to go, it won't significantly affect the overall story. This isn't going to be a story where finding out who R.A.B. is suddenly unlocks the secret that allows all of the Horcruxes to fall into Harry's lap. Dumbledore's notes will be more helpful, but even with them, Harry's still going to have to work to find all of the Horcruxes.

I'm convinced that there is some sort of dark secret in Dumbledore's past. Not necessarily a secret, but at least something that isn't common knowledge. This stems from the fact that Snape specifically says in Spinner's End that Bellatrix is "overlooking Dumbledore's greatest weakness: he has to believe the best of people." Now why would Dumbledore have to believe the best of people, unless in the past someone believed the best of him, and gave him a second shot at life? I think that in the past, someone took a chance on Dumbledore and gave him a job teaching at Hogwarts, despite a suspicious past. I don't think that he was necessarily a Dark Wizard per se, but I do believe he was involved in something illicit. Hence the whole illegal underground dueling thing. It explains a lot.

And why is Aberforth a thief? Well, I've always been suspicious of the scar on Dumbledore's knee that is an exact map of the London Underground. What's under the London Underground? The vaults of Gringotts. I think that at least once in the past, the Dumbledores used that scar on Albus's knee to break into the Gringotts vaults through the London Underground. But maybe I'm making too many bizarre connections. We'll see whether it matters or not when Book 7 comes out.

Until next time, which will hopefully be soon,

Alastor Robards