The Other Dumbledore
It was odd to see the village laid about before him, so very different from what he had become familiar, and yet, Harry could still see what it had once been.
The Three Broomsticks was in the very same spot it occupied back home, but instead of a wooden building with an area to tie up horses, it was made of brick and had a place the patrons could secure their brooms.
Even the post office in the distance was much the same, but there had certainly been additions throughout the centuries.
The Hog's Head had indeed seemingly been there as long as the village itself.
Harry had not visited the pub during his out of bounds excursions during his third year at Hogwarts, but the reputation of the establishment was not a good one.
According to the students that had braved it, the pub was rather unsightly, and those that frequented it were not the friendliest of characters.
Still, it was not the patrons that bothered Harry, unless they were in league with the Dark Lord, but the proprietor.
He'd never considered nor even thought to ask Dumbledore about his family, so earning he had a brother had come as quite the surprise.
What reception he would receive from the man, he didn't know, but he would certainly remain vigilant for the duration of his visit.
If Aberforth truly despised Albus as much as he'd been led to believe, he might just try to murder Harry to spite his older sibling.
With a shake of his head, Harry pushed the door to the pub open, and his nose was immediately filled with the unpleasant scent of stale booze, various types of tobacco smoke, and even something of a burning smell that had nothing to do with the unlit fireplace in one of the corners.
Approaching the bar, his gaze swept around the room, only to find that it was empty, save for the barman who was cleaning a glass with a filthy rag.
Aberforth Dumbledore eyed him with a frown before merely grunting in greeting.
"Firewhiskey," Harry requested, placing a silver Sickle on the bar.
With only a wave of his wand, Aberforth charmed a glass and bottle to land in front of Harry, and his coin was hurled into an open till next to the surly man.
The glass itself was quite filthy, but the dust within was washed away by the whiskey as it was poured into it.
With only a shrug, Harry emptied the glass and gestured for a refill.
Aberforth snorted and shook his head.
"You didn't come here to drink that piss. What do you want, Potter? Yes, I know who you are. Your bloody face has been plastered in just about every newspaper these last few years."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You're a miserable old cunt, aren't you?" he asked.
Aberforth was taken aback by the way he'd been spoken to, and his frown deepened.
"Did Albus send you? He wouldn't like you talking like that."
Harry shrugged.
"No, he didn't send me. He's in no fit state to, as things are, and as much as I respect your brother, I don't answer to him. I certainly don't line up to kiss his arse and sing his praises. He's made his mistakes."
"More than you know," Aberforth said darkly.
"I don't doubt it," Harry huffed, "but he's made more than enough where I'm concerned. Like I said, I respect him, but he's not the perfect article he's made out to be."
Aberforth eyed him curiously for a moment before speaking once more.
"Are you playing games with me, boy?" he asked irritably.
"I don't play games. I have no doubt you have your reasons to hate him. That's none of my business as far as I'm concerned, but making sure Riddle's arse is pulled up over his head is, and your brother is a part of it."
Aberforth continued to watch him closely before he laughed, something that did not seem so familiar to the man.
"Then you learned young that Albus isn't so perfect. If only everyone else was as astute as you, Potter."
With another flick of his wand, the glass in front of Harry was refilled, and he emptied it once more.
"Like I said, you didn't come here to drink that piss. What do you want?"
"Your help," Harry answered honestly. "Your brother has found himself in a situation that is only pissing up the war for me, and I need to find a way out of it. As much as you won't like to admit it, Britain needs him right now. I'll be the one to kill the Dark Lord, but Albus has his part to play."
Aberforth was unmoved by the explanation, and he shook his head.
"Is he going to die?"
"Maybe."
Aberforth shook his head.
"What has he gotten himself into now?"
"Something that is partly my fault, but something neither of us could likely have foreseen. When Fudge suddenly vacated his post during the meeting of the Wizengamot, Albus became the Minister be default. He managed to do what was needed to get us out, but being connected to the protections of the Ministry and of Hogwarts had some unexpected results. Riddle used his connection to the Ministry to attempt to possess him. Fortunately, I noticed it and stunned him. He has been unconscious ever since."
Aberforth hummed.
"So, the Ministry is under his control?"
"It is."
The man laughed once more and shook his head.
"I don't see how I am supposed to help my brother."
"He is tied to the protections by his blood. The idea is to drain it from him, slowly, whilst replacing it with some from you. It is a very crude process, but the only way to free him from it. I broke into the Ministry to try to end the connection there, but given that it is blood magic, it is near impossible to do so."
"My blood?"
"His must be replaced with that of a relative, and as his brother, so long as you have the same parents on both sides, I am certain it will work."
Aberforth eyed Harry for several moments.
"You know, my brother would not approve of your evident studies in such things."
"I am not your brother," Harry replied simply. "I am not so benevolent, nor am I averse to doing what is necessary. I have killed more men than I can count, and I will undoubtedly kill countless more. It just happens that this time, I'm looking to save one. You will feel slightly weakened, but the process can be done slowly enough that it will leave no lasting effect. We will attach you to Albus one way, and slowly drain him another whilst you will be given more than enough blood-replenishing potions."
Aberforth shook his head.
"It sounds utterly ridiculous."
"But it will work. So long as we drain him of all his own blood, the connection to the Ministry will break."
"Then who will become Minister?"
"Whoever Riddle chooses," Harry admitted. "It is not ideal, but better than the situation we are in now. At least then, I won't have to worry about your brother being harmed from afar."
Aberforth deflated.
"He's always been a damned fool," he murmured. "For all of his brilliance, he's the damnedest of fools, but as you said yourself, he is my brother. I will help him, Potter. Not for him, mind, but because you might just have what it takes to be rid of the bastard once and for all."
Harry nodded appreciatively, and Aberforth laughed.
"You know, I expect the best thing that ever happened to you was going missing. You did well enough against that dragon, but you're not outflying a Dark Lord, boy. So, what did happen to you?"
"It's a long story," Harry sighed.
Aberforth poured him another drink before fetching another glass for himself.
"I would hear some of it," he declared. "Most of the scum I find myself serving in here are nothing but braggarts and curs. You, I feel, might just be different enough."
(Break)
"Death," the Dark Lord murmured as he perused another of the books in Malfoy Manor.
He was not foolish enough to believe that Potter's seeming affiliation with crows was a sign to be ignored, and though there was little written about them in a magical sense, they were seen the world over as a rather eerie and problematic omen.
Most viewed the birds as a harbinger of Death itself, it's eyes, ears, and closest companion along with Ravens.
The Dark lord saw them as nothing but buzzards.
Even so, the presence of the bird before Potter struck was not something he could ignore.
Already, he had warned his followers to be on the lookout for the crows, but with it being Britain, they were plenty enough abundant.
Still, it was better to be safe than sorry when dealing with someone like Harry Potter.
The man was undeniably dangerous, and did not lack cunningness, much like Lord Voldemort himself, who winced as he pondered where he'd inherited the trait.
Ever since Potter had loudly proclaimed to have met Salazar Slytherin, and that the man had disowned the Dark Lord, it had caused him considerable discomfort whenever he even thought of his ancestor.
Fortunately, he had the optimum control over his mind, but from time to time, he would forget the declaration and be quickly reminded of it once more.
Was it a curse of sorts Potter had placed on him, or merely something of a placebo effect he was experiencing?
Lord Voldemort could not be certain, but he could not deny the discomfort that plagued him in those moments.
That was very real indeed.
Had Potter truly met Slytherin himself?
The Dark Lord snorted at the thought.
"Impossible," he grumbled irritably.
Even so, there was certainly quite the tale to be told of where Potter had been and what he'd done these past years that would explain what he'd become.
Not that it truly mattered beyond the realm of curiosity.
The young man would be dead soon enough.
He would eventually run out of his damned tricks, and the two of them would meet, where the Dark Lord would have an undeniable advantage over his foe.
Regardless of anything Potter had achieved, he was not Lord Voldemort, nor could he ever hope to truly defeat him, not when so many precious steps had been taken to ensure such a thing was all but impossible.
(Break)
"They're still out there," Hermione murmured, her face barely an inch from the window as she peered into the street outside.
"They are," Morgana agreed, "but not for much longer. Harry will get rid of them, and then it becomes a matter of how many of his followers Riddle is willing to sacrifice to watch a place he cannot see or access."
"Do you really think he can't get in here?"
Morgana frowned at the question.
"Maybe he can, but there is where his problems would really begin," she answered. "The protections here are deadly. It's as though they are waiting for someone uninvited to enter so that they can be unleashed."
"Like they're alive?"
"Exactly," Morgana mused aloud.
Perhaps they were.
She had considered several theories on different protections throughout the years, things she would never attempt for herself, for they would mean certain death, but perhaps one of the Blacks had dared delve into such magic.
There were those willing to create Horcruxes to live, and protections for others should they die.
Harry's mother had done so, so it was certainly possible that there was another, less savoury way of replicating the feat over a dwelling, or maybe position.
Sirius, although he'd not acknowledged it, was the head of House Black, and he was rather confident in the protections his ancestors had created.
"Will we really win the war?"
The question took Morgana aback, but she nodded confidently.
"We will," she assured the younger woman. "Things may seem bleak now, but we will win. I have every faith in Harry."
"You don't seem so worried about him when he is, well, being Harry."
"Oh, I worry," Morgana returned with a deep sigh, "but I believe in him, Hermione. As much as it is easy to forget that he is still just a man, he is. He is capable of things you are yet to see, but he bleeds and breathes like the rest of us, just as Dumbledore does."
Hermione nodded her understanding.
"I know. I think when we were younger, we all just felt so invincible, or thought that people like Dumbledore were, at least."
"That is just the ignorance of youth. I thought the same thing, but meeting Salazar changed that. He made me realise that the path I might've taken was one that none should tread. I can't say I listened to him much, but when I met Harry, I realised just how precious life is. That is why I choose to live it and do all I can to see the best in a world that often seems so unpleasant. The good will always come with the bad, and you'll see that when the fighting is done. I do. When Harry comes home from each excursion, I see that little glimmer of good, and that is more than enough for me."
"I couldn't imagine being married to someone like him," Hermione snorted.
"It's not easy," Morgana replied with a grin, "but then again, being married to someone like me is just as difficult. Ah, it looks as though Harry is out there," she added nodding towards the street.
"I can't see him."
"No, and you won't, not until he has done what he needs to."
"You've got quite a special connection, haven't you?"
Morgana nodded as a smile graced her lips.
"The very strongest."
(Break)
She and Severus had rarely seen eye to eye both professionally and personally. As a professor, the man had spent his years favouring those of his own house, often to the detriment of other students, and personally, Minerva simply did not trust Severus the same way Albus did, no matter the reasoning the headmaster had.
He'd willingly joined Voldemort and had done so with the intention of causing harm to others for a man he'd chosen to bow down to.
In Minerva's eyes, it had been a cowardly and treacherous thing to have done, and no amount of spying or passing information would ever be able to absolve him of his former deeds.
Even so, looking upon his lifeless remains was a sombre experience.
With Poppy's help, she had managed to transport him to the Hospital Wing.
It had been a rather potent venom that had been deemed to be responsible for Severus's death, though the word Mudblood had been carved into his chest whilst he was still alive.
He'd been bitten no less than a dozen times, and it was doubtless that Severus had suffered in his final moments.
Despite this, Minerva still could not bring herself to think of him any differently, and though there would be those who would mourn his passing, they would be few.
"We must consider burying him soon. The venom continues to eat away at his flesh," Poppy murmured, breaking into her thoughts.
Minerva nodded her understanding.
"I know," she replied. "I will begin making the arrangements and hope that Potter finds a solution to our other problem. Albus will wish to be there."
"Do you think he will manage it?"
"I do not know," Minerva answered honestly. "Perhaps he will, but whether or not it is in time to bury Severus, I cannot say."
Poppy nodded and gave her shoulder a squeeze, and Minerva's gaze shifted towards the unconscious form of Albus Dumbledore, where she simply watched and waited for a sign that there was indeed a chance that he might just come out of this well enough.
(Break)
It didn't take harry long to locate the four men that had been tasked with lurking around the streets of Grimmauld Place. If they hoped that someone within number twelve would slip and reveal themselves along with the property, they had another thing coming.
Harry suspected they didn't even know their presence had been noted, but that would change soon enough.
Casting another sobering charm on himself, he approached the first beneath his cloak, only to find the man sleeping beneath a rather poor combinations of charms designed only to ensure none paid him any mind.
Harry shook his head before stunning him.
He was no one of any note, just one of dozens of faces that had chosen to back the wrong side in the ongoing war.
Still, killing him would be all too easy, and a grin graced Harry's lips as he decided that humiliation would serve him better here.
Perhaps it was the considerable amount of Firewhiskey he'd consumed with the now-slumped Aberforth that had inspired the mischief, something the men keeping watch over Grimmauld Place would one day appreciate.
Had Harry happened upon them earlier in the evening before feeling so jovial from the liquor, their fate would not be such a kind.
Stifling a chuckle, he set to work before moving onto his next target, stunning the semi-conscious man, and repeating his work.
At the very least, he would salvage some amusement in times that were so dire.
Still, he wouldn't forget just how sombre the war had quickly become, and though Aberforth had eventually agreed to assist him with ridding Albus of his burden, the man had done so reluctantly, leaving Harry wondering just what had transpired between the brothers to create such a rift.
Aberforth had remained tight-lipped on the matter, only alluding to his wish not to tarnish the memories he had of a once happy family.
Harry understood.
Although he scarcely spoke of his time with the Dursleys, his silence had been intended to preserve the memories of his mother others had.
He would not see Lily Potter compared to her poor excuse of a sister.
Shaking his head, his placed his wand up his sleeve before apparating into the kitchen, where he found Morgana, Sirius, Hermione, and the younger Weasley siblings waiting for him.
"Ae they dead?" his wife asked.
Harry shook his head.
"No, but if I could direct your attention to the window, I have something much more satisfying."
Morgana narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but the gathered group did as they were bid, and Harry fought the urge to laugh whilst they waited for the fruits of his labour to be put on display.
"Right about…now," he declared.
Four screams sounded from the square outside, and each of the watchers were hoisted into the air so that they were seemingly dangling upside-down by their ankles.
Most embarrassingly for them, however, was that they were devoid of any clothing, and a shower of sparks began to shoot from their rear ends.
Harry chuckled amusedly to himself as the fireworks display began, and Sirius, along with Fred and George guffawed in delight at the show.
It went on for several minutes, and when the last of the fireworks exploded in the sky above, each man was dumped back to the ground, where they immediately fled as quickly as their legs could carry them.
"Nice one, Harry," Fred declared, thumping him smartly on the shoulder.
George grinned as he nodded his agreement, as Sirius merely ruffled his hair.
Morgana shook her head at him, but she failed to hide her own amusement at what had just transpired.
Hermione and Ginny both seemed horrified, and Ron was in something of a state of shock.
"Well, they'll think twice about wanting to come back," Harry pointed out.
"You shoved fireworks up their arses," Morgana pointed out.
"Only using my wand," Harry defended.
His wife quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Come on, let's get you into bed before you get anymore bright ideas. Did you manage to speak to Dumbledore's brother?"
Harry nodded.
"He's agreed to help," he explained. "It won't be pleasant, but it needs to be done."
"It is the only way," Morgana sighed. "Did he say when?"
"Tomorrow. I think he's worried about Albus just as much as he is keen to get it over with. I don't know how much it will do for their relationship, but at least he's helping. Do you know why they fell out?" Harry asked Sirius.
His godfather shook his head.
"No, it happened long before the Order came together the first time. Most of us had no idea he had a brother until we met him during one of our ventures in Hogsmeade when he caught me trying to sneak a bottle of Firewhiskey. He gave me a kick up the arse and promised to report me to his brother. I thought he meant an Auror until Dumbledore had us in his office."
Harry snorted amusedly.
"Was there ever a time you didn't cause trouble?"
"No," a tired Remus answered as he entered the kitchen. "What was all that racket outside?"
He looked rather pale and unwell, meaning the next full moon could not be so far away.
"Nothing," Sirius denied, shaking his head at the others.
Although Remus had once been a Marauder, he'd grown up considerably since leaving Hogwarts, and would likely nit approve of what Harry had done.
Even so, the effort had been worth it, and soon enough, should all go to plan, Albus would be free of the protections of the Ministry of Magic, and back to being of use to the war effort.
(Break)
"So, there truly is no way the protections can be changed?"
Augustus shook his head as he released a deep breath.
"I'm afraid not, my lord, not without a unanimous agreement by every recognised member of the Wizengamot."
"Can those missing be found?"
Augustus scratched his beard thoughtfully.
"Perhaps, but I expect it would be more effort than it is worth, my lord. Those that managed to escape the chambers during the takeover will have gone to ground and will be most difficult to track down."
The Dark Lord nodded his agreement and once more cursed Potter for his ability to make things much harder than they needed to be.
"Very well, Augustus. Perhaps we can…"
He broke off as the sound of a commotion from within the Malfoy home reached his ears, and a frown marring his features, took his leave of the drawing room he was making use off.
The sound of frantic voices greeted him as he made his way towards the entrance hall, where he found the four followers tasked with watching over the suspected location of the Black home proving to be the cause of ruckus.
"My Lord, one of the men pleaded, doing his utmost to preserve what little dignity he had remaining.
He was nude save for a pair of colourful socks, and covered in what appeared to be a thick, black soot. Even more troubling, the man was wincing in considerable discomfort as he stepped forward, and as the Dark Lord's gaze shifted briefly towards one of the others, he could see why.
They had merely been humiliated for the most part, but each of their rear ends, legs and backs had been rather badly burned.
"What is the meaning of this?" Bellatrix demanded to know as she descended the nearby staircase leading to the family rooms of the home.
She was angry at having her rest disturbed, but her eyes lit up in amusement as she took in the scene before her.
"We were attacked!" one of the men protested. "I d-don't know what happened, but we were assaulted! They stuck fireworks…"
He broke off as he blushed through his sooty mask.
The Dark did not need to hear anything further.
The damned fools had lost focus on what they should've been doing and had been caught off guard by Potter, or another member of Dumbledore's Order.
"Pull yourselves together," he said dangerously, "and get back to your post."
With that, he turned heel and made his way back towards the parlour he'd been occupying and narrowed his eyes in irritation.
He certainly had the advantage when it came to sheer numbers, but he could not claim to have the competency where it mattered.
"What now, my lord?" Augustus asked.
"Secure the Ministry as best you can and monitor all activity. I will ponder our next move, Augustus; one that will see the end of Potter!"
"Of course, my lord."
"And send for Barty and Wormtail. I have a task for both of them."
Augustus nodded in response before vanishing to do as he'd been instructed, leaving the Dark Lord to consider the options he had.
With Dumbledore still indisposed of, it would make sense to make a move towards taking Hogwarts, and perhaps doing so before the students returned to the castle in only a matter of days.
(Break)
"Are you certain of this, Potter?"
He released a deep breath and seemed to ponder the question before nodding.
"I am, and my wife is, which tells you all you need to know. I may not be as experienced in blood magic as her, but I have every faith she is right. It is the only way to free him."
Peter continued looking on in anticipation as his former Head of House seemed to deliberate with herself.
He'd received his master's summons to return to Malfoy Many, but as he was readying himself to do so, he'd seen Potter arrive in the Hospital Wing.
He'd been sent here to watch over Dumbledore, to ensure the man remained in the condition he found himself in now, so that the Dark Lord might decide his next course of action.
For a while, his talents had been put to use spying on the elites of the magical world, watching and learning of their movements so that any opportunity to kidnap them could be taken.
His personal campaign had born much fruit, and for once, he found himself in his master's good graces.
Now, however, he anticipated that he might just become one of the Dark Lord's favourites, given what he was learning here.
"Then do it," McGonagall decided. "If you believe it will work, then it should be done. When will Aberforth arrive?"
"In a few hours from now," Potter answer, frowning as something seemed to catch his attention.
Peter stilled as the man's gaze shifted about the Hospital Wing before he shook his head dismissively.
"I expect it will take some hours for the work to be done, and even then, there is no telling how long it will take before we can wake him up."
McGonagall nodded her understanding.
"Then there is still hope," she pointed out.
"There is hope."
Hours.
With what he'd just learned and how confident Potter seemed to be, they had only hours before Dumbledore would once again be well enough to stand against the Dark Lord once more.
Although his master did not fear the headmaster, he was an exceedingly foreboding enemy to be faced with, and Peter knew he must return quickly to inform the Dark Lord of what was to transpire.
Quickly, but carefully, he navigated the pipe he was within in a bid to exit the castle, with information that might just ensure victory in the war.
(Break)
"What is it, Potter?" Minerva asked as the young man removed a worn piece of parchment from within his pocket.
He said nothing as he murmured a few words and tapped it with his wand, frowning as he seemed to scan the page.
"I knew it," he huffed. "I would've thought he'd do something about that, but even if he had, it's not as though he can do anything."
"Potter, I'm afraid you have lost me."
"I knew I felt something," Harry sighed as he stood. "We were being watched, Professor."
"By whom?" Minerva asked as she stood and drew her wand.
"Pettigrew, but he's already leaving the grounds. We won't catch him in time."
"So, he knows?"
Potter nodded as he too stood.
"He knows, which means I must get to Aberforth quickly. They will come for him before he can make it to the castle."
"I will come…"
Potter held up a hand.
"No, you need to stay within the castle. You're the only protection it has."
With that, he hurried from the Hospital Wing, and Minerva was at a loss at what she should do, but she knew she could not remain idle.
"Poppy," she called.
The Healer emerged from her office with a questioning look and Minerva offered her an appreciative smile.
"I would have you remain with him. I will be locking the door behind me as best I can, and you are not to open it unless it is myself or Potter."
"What is happening, Minerva?" Poppy asked worriedly.
"Perhaps nothing, but given all that has happened recently, it is best we take no unnecessary risks," Minerva replied as she took her leave of the Hospital Wing, securing the door as best she could.
For now, she needed to send for the remaining members of staff to inform them of what was happening and get their thoughts on what else could be done to secure the castle.
Argus would be best to speak with.
He was an unpleasant man at best, but Minerva doubted there was anyone else who knew Hogwarts better than him, save for Dumbledore.
(Break)
"You are late, Wormtail," the Dark Lord admonished as the wheezing rat rushed into the parlour.
"With good reason, my lord," Pettigrew assured him. "I was just answering your summons when Potter arrived at Hogwarts. My Lord, he has a plan to release Dumbledore from the protections!"
The Dark Lord frowned as he stood.
"You know the plan?"
Wormtail nodded.
"He intends to replace his blood with that of his brother, Aberforth," he explained.
"And this will work, Augustus?"
The man nodded hesitantly.
"It is likely to if both survive the ordeal," he mused aloud, "but it is a very dangerous thing to attempt."
"And yet, we must assume Potter will be successful in his efforts," Lord Voldemort pointed out. "To ignore this could prove to be quite foolish. To prevent it, we must ensure Aberforth Dumbledore does not reach the castle. Wormtail, where can we find him?"
"He is the owner of the Hog's Head."
The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully.
"And when is it Potter's intention to carry out the procedure?"
"Within hours, my lord. That is why I hurried back."
"Then we must act immediately. For now, it is best that Dumbledore remains as he is. Augustus, gather only the most competent of my followers. The old fool's brother will be no easy target;, but he must be killed."
"Of course, my lord," Rookwood responded before leaving the room.
"What would you have me do, my lord?"
"You are to remain here, Wormtail. I would not risk your talent in this, not when I have many further uses for you."
The man breathed a sigh of relief and followed in Rookwood's footsteps, leaving the Dark Lord to hastily plan just how they would kill Aberforth Dumbledore.
If he was half the wizard his brother had proven to be, he would indeed not be so easy to eliminate, which meant that the Dark lord would likely have to do it himself.
Still, it would be good to remind the wizarding world that he was indeed back, and very much in control of all they saw around them.
If Dumbledore's own brother wasn't safe, who was, after all?
(Break)
Harry knew he was in a race against the clock.
The moment Tom learned of what happened, he would mobilise to intercept any effort to ensure Aberforth made it to the castle to help Albus.
With that in mind, the moment he left the Hospital Wing, he transformed into a crow, and flew out of a nearby window, where he headed immediately towards the gates.
When he was clear of them, he climbed a little higher before reverting back to his human form to apparate closer to the Hog's Head.
Upon doing so, he transformed once more and headed towards the ground.
Fortunately, the pub was open, and as he entered, Aberforth looked towards him immediately, a frown of curiosity creasing his brow.
"We need to move!" Harry said urgently, his wand snapping into his hand as the lone patron aimed their own towards Aberforth.
The assailant blocked Harry's upon firing his own, and Aberforth proved he was no slouch, intercepting the attack before it could reach him.
"Bastard," the younger Dumbledore sibling cursed, using his wand to hurl a chair towards the attacker, who deflected it towards one of the walls, where it shattered into kindling.
Whoever this man was had beaten Harry here, but had not attacked Aberforth before his arrival, and Harry quickly realised why.
He was either here to merely observe, or prevent the two of them leaving, which Harry realised was likely the case.
That could only mean that Tom was already on his way.
With a shake of his head, Harry knew they needed to leave as quickly as possible.
Tom would not come alone, and given what was at stake, it would be foolish to risk lingering here for the sake of his desire to kill the Dark Lord.
With a nod to himself, Harry brought his wand to bear once more before unleashing a plethora of spells towards the attacker as he carefully circled his way towards Aberforth.
Once more, the Death Eater proved to be a well-prepared duellist, sustaining no damage from the offering, but was unable to return fire from the barrage of magic.
"Avada Kedavra!"
If nothing else thus far had gotten the attacker's attention, this undoubtedly did, and he threw himself to the ground to avoid the jet of green light that careened from the tip of Harry's wand.
It was far from being one of his favourite spells, but Harry knew it would have the desired effect, and using the distraction to gain an advantage, he fired a blasting curse towards the floor before seizing Aberforth by the wrist and apparating them both away, with only a loud curse ringing in their ears from the attacker.
"My pub!" Aberforth protested when they landed just shy of the gates of the school.
"You'd be singing a bloody different tune if we'd stayed any longer," Harry grumbled as he pulled the man into the safety of the Hogwarts' grounds. "Riddle is on his way to your pub as we speak, but if it means that much to you, I'll buy you another one."
Aberforth looked soberly towards the village in the distance before releasing a deep breath when only a few moments later, a thick plume of black smoke snaked into the sky above.
"Some things can't be replaced, lad," he murmured as he made his way towards the castle.
(Break)
"You were supposed to keep him here, Barty," the Dark Lord said unhappily as he watched the historic pub burn to the ground.
"Potter was here only a minute after me, my lord," Barty replied. "I could not fend him and the old man off. He has changed, my lord. He even used a killing curse against me."
He sounded mildly impressed, and the Dark Lord scowled unhappily.
He never thought he'd see the day that he would find a foe so willing to kill as Harry Potter.
The last war had been significantly different in that regard.
Until near that fateful Halloween night, not even the Aurors had been granted the power to use lethal force against him and his followers, and Dumbledore certainly would never do such a thing.
Now, however, it felt like a true war, one in which none were safe from the cold clutches of death.
"What now, my lord?" Barty asked.
The Dark Lord's frown deepened as he peered towards the castle in the distance.
If he wished to take the school, there was no time like the present.
For now, Dumbledore was still unable to protect Hogwarts as he had once been and given that his attempts to subvert the man's mind had failed, it seemed the time had come to move on the one other place he truly wished to claim.
"Gather them all, Barty, and send for Greyback. We will attack the castle the moment the sun goes down and the moon is full."