MY FAKE BOYFRIEND ( draco malfoy! )

58| returning to hogwarts

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"We're back, bitches!"

─── Y/N POV ───

The months following Dobby's tragic death had been a blur of intense, life-threatening situations. After what felt like an eternity of searching for Voldemort's final Horcruxes, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I finally arrived at Hogsmeade, the village that had once filled with livelihood. Now, however, the cobblestone streets were replaced with a heavy silence.

Without a sound, we followed a path that led us to a small, isolated house tucked away at the edge of the village. Inside resided an old man, who strongly resembled someone we once knew. Dumbledore. While the scent of woodsmoke and herbal tea was quite comforting, I couldn't help but feel incredibly on edge.

"You bloody fools. What were you thinking coming here?" The man sternly asked. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"

Aberforth Dumbledore.

Harry turned to face the old man, recognition dawning on him. "It's you I've been seeing in here. You're the one who sent Dobby."

Aberforth's brow furrowed as he processed this. "Where have you left him?"

"He's dead," Harry replied.

Aberforth paused, a flicker of sorrow crossing his face. "Sorry to hear it. I liked that elf."

Harry's gaze sharpened as he pointed at the old mirror hanging on the wall. "Who gave that to you?"

"The mirror? Mundungus Fletcher, about a year ago," Aberforth said, brushing off the question as he reached for a tray with food and water.

"He had no right!" Harry shot back in anger. "That mirror belonged to—"

"Sirius." Aberforth cut him off. "He also told me you'd be hacked off if you ever found out I had it. But ask yourself, where would you be if I didn't?"

Setting the tray down, Aberforth allowed Harry a moment to gather his thoughts. Harry, nearly starving, quickly grabbed a piece of bread.

"Do you hear much from the Order?" Hermione asked, moving closer to the table and snatching some food for herself.

"You-Know-Who has won. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to themselves," Aberforth stated grimly, his eyes darkening with the weight of despair.

Harry's resolve hardened. "We need to get into Hogwarts. Tonight. Dumbledore gave us a job to do."

"Did he now? Nice job? Easy?" Aberforth scoffed.

"Never," I muttered under my breath.

"We've been hunting Horcruxes," Harry replied.

"And we think the last one is in the castle, but we'll need help getting in," I added, this time loud enough to hear.

Aberforth's expression shifted, his eyebrows knitting in disapproval. "That's not a job my brother gave you. It's a suicide mission. Do yourself a favor, boy, and go home. Live a little longer."