The Key (A Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Chapter 46: Dumbledore Has A Brother?

Amelia's P.O.V

Well, we didn't plan any of this, so hopefully, it will work. Unlike our fun ideas that we planned. I swear, we're allergic to planning. We should just never plan again. It would make life a whole lot easier. You have to plan, they said. It won't work otherwise, they said. They've obviously not met us then. We're like the anti-plan, planless, plan free. But hopefully Hermione won't chose to plan anymore,otherwise everything will go wrong. I'm not insulting her planning skills or anything, it's like, it's easier said then done. That'd exactly what we're like. I sure hope going to Hogwarts works, I don't fancy another visit to Malfoy Manor, we might not be so lucky... Anyway, I know what us returning to Hogwarts to going to do, it's going to start a war. The Second Wizarding War. And to win, Voldemort must die. And for Voldemort to die, Harry and I must kill him. It was in our prophecies in the Department of Mysteries,  located in the Ministry.

My suspended feet were soon planted on the snow coated ground, all four of us in the same line as we were only seconds ago when we apparated here. It was so dark, almost pitch black, and I couldn't see a thing. But what I did know, that as soon as our feet touched the ground, a loud alarm started to go off. Three men came bounding from some of the buildings, looking for who set it off. We ran into the nearest shack and crounched down behind some of the tables, making sure that the cloth was as an angle so it would cover us, keeping us well concealed.

"They're here!"

"Search every shop!"

"Look in the stables! Now both of you, come with me!" Were the shouts I heard nearby. Moments later, two of the snatchers burst into the place we were in. Knocking over chairs, that clacked against the concrete floor. They ripped the cloths off the tables and checked under each one, drawing nearer and nearer us. They;re feet clearly visible from under the table, I scrunched my eyes shut and hid my face in Harry shoulder, preparing for them to see us crouched underneath the wooden bench. Then the alarm let out another long booming screech, and the men were called over to the other side of the village, which they quickly sprinted to. Once they were out of sight, I let out the breath that I didn't even know I was holding. My hand up went up to my heart and my breathing deepened.

"I thought we were done for then." I whispered to Harry who nodded.

"So did I." We silently stood up from under the work bench and legged it up a set of concrete steps,  Hermione and Ron hot on our heels. We turned left and ran straight for a large, barred metal gate. I tried rattling it -with as little sound as I could make- but it was locked tight. It was the sound of heavy footsteps that made us whizz around on the spot, and there stood an old man.

"Potter's! In here." He hissed pointing to the door he had come out from. Harry pulled me through the archway by my hand, that's when I got to catch a first glimpse of the man's face. What I saw truely stunned me, he looked like Dumbledore. But he died last year, we were there! My feet bounced from one step to the next behind Harry, running down the dark, narrow staircase.

"Did you get a good look at him?" Hermione asked, as the man had not yet greeted us with his presence.

"I thought for a minute, that it was-" Roon was cut off by me.

"Dumbledore, I know." I replied, my hand still being gripped by Harry's. Hermione, who suddenly became interested in a small rectangular mirror, widened her eyes before turning to Harry.

"I can see you in this." She told him and he slipped the mirror shard from his sock -why he keeps it in there, I honestly have no idea- and stared into it, his eyebrows furrowing. I peered over his shoulder to see the back of Hermione's curly, chocolate brown hair. Next to Harry I wandered to where Hermione was, and indeed, saw Harry's face almost printed  into the glass. Before I could do anything else, the door clanked open, and the man with the unknown name strode in, looking at us like we were idiots.