"Mr. Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, watching as Aberforth, seemingly wanting to disappear without being noticed, made for the door of the Great Hall to leave the castle. His green eyes had not failed to notice, though. Harry hopped off the table Madam Pomfrey temporarily used to treat him on, having tended to the gash on his collarbone until then. Harry initially hadn't felt it, but the blood soaking through his attire had alarmed the Matron, who had rushed by immediately to tend to his wound now that the most serious injuries of the others had been tended to already. An annoyed sigh left her lips as her patient escaped her, catching up with Aberforth Dumbledore by the immense doors of the Hall. The elder man halted, not moving at all anymore.

Harry quietly walked a few steps ahead, facing him and looking him into the eyes. His eyes were just like his brother's, and momentarily Harry James Potter wondered if their sister had had the same penetrating blue eyes as her older brothers. He had not really noticed on the portrait earlier. He felt as if he was once again looking into Albus Dumbledore's eyes, like he had a few hours or maybe minutes earlier. He had no idea about time at all. Everything had gone so fast, it seemed… and at the same he felt like it had lasted for days. He felt so very exhausted, as if he had really been going for days, and a good night's sleep without nightmares about all that he had witnessed tonight sounded awesome.

Harry had managed to keep himself going while the battle had lasted, aware that he could not give up, or he would fail everyone that had fought for him there, and Dumbledore… Remus, Tonks, his godfather, and his mom and dad. He had not given up, though… and now Voldemort was gone, and he would never return anymore. He had gone to pieces before his eyes. He had finally been destroyed after he himself had destroyed so many and so much. Harry wished that he could have done it far sooner and saved more lives, but… he couldn't have possibly. Without Albus' necessary information, he would never even have known.

"Your Patronus…" Harry began. He vividly recalled the pain that had sounded through in the elder man's voice upon talking about Ariana, the sister he had loved so much and had died too soon.

Aberforth's eyebrows furloughed together then. "What about it?" he questioned, and maybe it sounded harsher than he had truly meant. He looked on as the boy – the man – before him seemed to weigh his words before speaking, afraid to say something offensive. It seemed as if he wanted to ask something and wanted to word the question so as not to anger him or give him any other reason not to answer.

"I've never seen such powerful Patronus," Harry said, and Aberforth could feel there was more. His hairy eyebrows relaxed, and one quirked as he quietly eyed the young hero, just waiting. "I just… wondered…" Harry continued, not quite sure how to get this one across without offending the remaining Dumbledore. Harry did not know him that well, and while Albus had been the kind to appreciate questions, foregoing answers cautiously when he couldn't answer, he somehow highly doubted that Aberforth would share the same kind of openness. While Albus' blue eyes had for instance twinkled, Aberforth's did not and were surrounded by harsher lines instead. It seemed as if he had grimaced more in his life than laughed or smiled.

Aberforth nodded, already beginning to get where this was going to. "While my brother was of course far more famous than I, and I have lived most of my life if not all in his shadow where no one saw me or knew me – I'll never deny it – I'm not a Squib."

Harry didn't fail to see his blue eyes flicker to Argus Filch sitting hugging his cat on a table with Slughorn by him. A smile came upon his face. Even the caretaker's bloody cat had survived the war. Harry momentarily wondered if she truly had been so loyal as to remain with him like always. How had they even defended themselves without wands?

He had never been able to bear the animal. He had in fact gotten to hate cats due to Mrs. Figg's obsession to begin with and then not in the least because of Mrs. Norris and then later even more because of Umbridge and her love for pink and cats. In fact, the only cat he really didn't hate was Minerva McGonagall. "I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, directing his gaze back to the remaining Dumbledore. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just… Was it your sister Ariana who served as the happy memory? I know that you did care a lot about her, and I wondered if… Well…"

Aberforth's head shook. "Do not misconstrue, Harry Potter. I did love Ariana very much, and even though she barely had the chance to make memories let alone happy ones in her brief life span, I've known a lot of them with her. She never got the chance to get married or have a child. In fact she never had much of a chance to love and be loved by anyone not within the safe confines of our home. I've known a lot of happy memories with her, and they were happy enough to cast a powerful Patronus like that, but the one memory I drew from to cast the Patronus that I did during this battle was not one of Ariana."

Curiosity must have flickered through in Harry's green eyes. He was of course quite curious as to what memory could have caused such powerful Patronus then, but he felt that maybe that would have been too much prying. To Harry's utter surprise, Aberforth, however, smiled. "Wh–?" He began, not knowing whether the smile was meant to be encouraging or to convey the hopelessness of expecting an answer.

"She's a clever girl," Aberforth whispered, watching Harry's eyebrows knit together in non-understanding. "The girl who's always with you and Weasley. The Muggle-born."

"Oh," Harry said, understanding dawning. "Hermione. Yeah, indeed. She is. Without her, I don't know what we would have done."

Aberforth nodded again in understanding. He sighed. "You most likely know from experience that it is easier to accept a loss if you don't keep up hopes for winning. Far easier it is when you act to have given up hope. Maybe you eventually believe it yourself. A new shard of hope, however, arrived together with you, Harry Potter. I knew that a battle would be inevitable and that there somehow would come an end to how dark everything had become – either things would get better or worse, but they would not be the same. I long knew that if that day would come, and I would find the result to be the latter, I would take my goats and leave to somewhere far away. With you,/ the chances of survival and ending this with better endings were better than they had been in months, though. Without McGonagall Hogwarts already would have collapsed but then with you there as well, I finally seemed to have a reason to really hope again. While my brother sacrificed a lot, including Ariana, for the 'greater good', and I did fear that you would be another sacrifice, he was not stupid. It would be foolish to say that. I dared hope again that maybe my brother could be right, and you would be able to end it. That Patronus was created by hope for a better life for the surviving. Too many innocent died… Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to see if my goats are alright."

Harry nodded, stepping aside and watching him go to his goats. Strange wizard.