Aria Ashborn and the Deathly Hallows (A Harry Potter fanfic)

Chapter 15: The Missing Mirror

Harry kept his word in allowing them only ten minutes leisure time. Aria had only just changed out of her damp dress into some jeans, a plaid shirt, and a brown, leather jacket when Harry called the group together. Hermione was in the middle of drying her hair with Bellatrix's wand and looked slightly agitated that she wasn't allowed to finish the other half, so she braided it instead. Ron, who had walked some paces away and turned around to allow the girls to change, was hesitant in turning back when he heard Harry's voice.

"Alright, let's go." Harry announced. Aria observed him. His eyes were red and slightly puffy as if he had been crying, although this could also be due to cold temperatures of the water they had swum in. He wore the same expression he wore at Dumbledore's funeral.

"Harry." said Hermione gently, "About Venunus--"

"No. I don't want to talk about it." Harry said, "It's done. We have a job to do."

Aria looked him in his tired eyes. "Harry." she said. Harry took her hand gently and massaged her palms slightly with his fingers. Harry did not speak but he told her not to worry for him.

"Come on." he said. Both Ron and Hermione put their hands on top of Harry and Aria's and in seconds, they had touched down in Hogsmeade village as the sun was setting. They had not even had a moment to take in the sights and smells of the place that had once been so homey to them before a loud cat-like shrill echoed throughout the village; an alarm. Harry immediately led the way and they all bolted towards Honeydukes.

"There! Right there!" called a dark figure off in the distance and the four of them turned on their heels and ran in the other direction, "I've got them! Down Here!" They found their way to a dark alley between Honeydukes and The Hog's Head. There were piles of chairs and tables in the corner that they managed to hide behind.

"They were ready for us!" Aria whispered.

"We know you're here, Potter!" a man's voice called from the main cobbled path, "There's no getting away. Perhaps you need some convincing!"

"What's he mean by that?" Ron asked, his voice trembling. Then, his question was answered. The air turned unbelievably icy for May. A thick mist rolled in and Aria's teeth chattered. Then, they all looked up. Dark, hooded figures like Aria had never seen wisped through the sky. Their dark, ragged cloaks clung to their skeletal bodies, but Aria soon could not pay attention to details. Her thoughts were on the day she found out her parents were killed. The sorrow she felt as she sobbed for what felt like weeks alone on her bed. How she couldn't bear to walk into her parents' bedroom. It smelt too much like them, her mother's jewelry was on the dresser, her father's clothes no longer enchanted to fold themselves. That was a memory she hated to revisit yet still found its way into her nightmares. She tried not to think about it, yet the dementors drew it out of her as Dumbledore had once drawn out memories for his pensive. Aria could not think of a single happy thing.

"No, you'll give us away--" Hermione whispered as the dementors glided closer and closer to them. Hermione's voice had seemed to take Aria out of her trance for a moment and she noticed Harry had drawn Draco's wand. Before Aria could protest, Harry had done it.

"Expecto Patronum!" he whispered strongly, and a silvery blue stag emerged from the tip of his wand and rushed at the dementors. In the blink of an eye, Aria could see clearly again, no longer replaying the feeling of her parents' death. It was now time to run.

"It's him!" someone else called, "He's down there!" Harry, Aria, Ron, and Hermione stood quickly but did not know where to turn. Then, the back door of The Hog's Head opened in the alleyway.

"In here, Potter." someone whispered from the doorway, "Come on, move!" The four of them took a leap of faith and went through the door of the Hog's Head, past the man who had let them in. Aria only caught a quick glimpse of him, but he seemed vaguely familiar. He was very old-looking, with icy blue eyes, and a long silver beard...The four of them were led down a flight of stairs into a room of wood.