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Chapter Text

The Young Dumbledore: Part I

Here lies an account of the early years of Albus Dumbledore. Where this accounting differs from other sources, I say only that Albus Dumbledore’s life was very long and much mythologized. In a world where records are lost or destroyed, and people forget (whether through charm or time), the truth may be what we make of it. Whether this tale is more or less true than any other, I leave to the reader. 

Prologue

Mould-on-the-Wold, England. 

Sometime before the First World War. 

Summer. 

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.” 

“Five.” 

“Six.”

“Seven.” 

“Eight.” 

“Nine.” 

“Ten.”

“Ready or not, I’m coming for you!”

Albus turned away from the wall in the corner of the dusty library where he had been impatiently waiting, and started to run for the hallway door. He jumped over the moving carpet and barreled down the stairs of the main hall. He nearly collided with Foggy on his way up, and narrowly avoided a dangerous tumble.

“Sorry Foggy!” Albus yelled quickly behind him, as he ran past the house elf down the rest of the staircase. 

“Be careful, Master Albus!” the small elf cried after. 

He was always nannying them all, and his cares and attention could be insufferable. But fortunately Foggy could be easily manipulated by the Dumbledore children with a batted eyelid and a pout. His role as guardian of the children, and spy for their parents, was not going well. 

Albus made it to the bottom of the staircase in the massive main hall of the house. The great crystal chandelier crowned the ceiling, and illuminated the entire room. Albus ran past the ticking grandfather clock, out the front door of the house, and onto the crowded terrace beyond. 

The enormous Dumbledore mansion had been decorated in flowering vines for the occasion. They seemed to be constantly growing and weaving in and around its many windows, statues and crenelated towers. The stone angels, lounging atop the tiled roof, watched the scene below disinterestedly. 

The adults paid Albus no mind, and continued to stroll and converse amongst themselves. Floating silver platters roamed in between the witches and wizards, distributing cream-filled pastries and small chocolate cakes. Albus quickly snatched one from a nearby plate and stuffed it in his mouth. He groaned in pleasure as the sugar dissolved on his tongue. One aged wizard gave him a stern look, but soon resumed his discussion with a young witch in a buffoonish hat standing next to him. Albus knew his mother and father were lost among the crowd, entertaining their guests. They could care less what he, Aberforth and Ariana got up to, as long as they were out of sight, and caused no disturbance. 

He made his way down the terrace steps away from the party guests, and past the two enormous stone sphinxes that guarded the entrance to the Dumbledore estate. They glowered at him disapprovingly, but silently. He ignored them, and ran out into the great lawn that surrounded the house on all sides. 

The sun was exceptionally bright, and he could feel it all over his skin. He had dusty brown hair, with little flecks of gold that had appeared after many days spent out of doors. His skin was a shade darker than it would have been in winter, and he had bright, clear, blue eyes, like all the Dumbledore children. He was at the age when one professed to have all the responsibilities and privileges of an adult, while still clinging to the freedoms of childhood. 

Albus went right towards the old wooden muggle cart with the canvas tarp on top, decaying in the grass where he knew he would find Aberforth. Quietly he crept up to it, holding his breath as he neared closer. With his right hand he grasped the tarp which covered the space below, and, in one quick motion, he ripped it away from the rotting farm cart. 

Sure enough, he found a sullen young boy crouched underneath. 

“Found you!” 

Aberforth crossed his arms and grimaced at Albus. A few years younger, he shared many of Albus’s features, though few of his allowances. 

“Oh Aberforth,” Albus chided gently, “if you don’t want to be found, you can’t always hide in the same spot.”

Aberforth still hadn’t quite gotten the sense of the game, and begrudgingly refused to learn.

Albus turned away from the cart and left Aberforth to pout alone, still sitting underneath.

“Alright Ariana, I’m coming for you!” Albus yelled into the air. 

Putting a hand to his eyes to shield them from the summer sun high overhead, he surveyed the fields around him. The Dumbledore mansion was surrounded by a neat lawn, and then pastures of tall yellow grasses that billowed in the breeze, dotted with a few groaning willow trees. In the distance, he could see the dark tree line of the forest which covered the valley beyond, until it came to the edges of the muggle town. 

From here, the noise of the party guests on the terrace was a faint murmur, and he could hear bees buzzing about. He knew Ariana wouldn’t hide in the house; she always preferred the game outdoors if she could manage it. Looking to the horizon, she was nowhere to be seen. 

“You know the woods are off limits Ariana!” He yelled out. But there was no indication that anyone heard, other than perhaps Aberforth, still glowering under the farm cart and annoyed at being taken out of the game so quickly yet again. 

“I’m coming for you!” Albus called again into the wind, as he started to make his way across the field.

***

From her hiding spot behind the crumbling stone wall at the edge of the forest, Ariana watched him slowly moving across the lawn. She couldn’t suppress a giggle, and quickly clasped her hand to her mouth so the sound wouldn’t travel. Her cheeks were flushed from running though the grass. It was tall enough to conceal her from the view of the house. 

She had long, light brown hair that was tangled in places, and needed a combing. The tips of her fingernails were darkened, and her bare feet were covered in dirt. Only her smiling eyes were unspotted. 

“I’m coming for you!” She heard Albus yell again. 

Carefully, she took several steps backward into the shade of the trees. Once she felt she was a safe distance away, she turned, and bolted into the woods beyond. The calls of Albus faded behind her, and the sounds, scents and colors of the wood began to overtake her senses. 

This was her favorite place to be. Alone, among the many trees, flowers, animals, and insects of the forest. As she skipped along the mud path, she lifted her hands up into the air and moved them with the wind currents. The leaves began to abandon their perches among the branches, and drifted down around her. They gathered onto her hands like gloves, and tickled her palms. She laughed, and threw the leaves into the air. They folded themselves into birds, butterflies, and bees, flying into the undergrowth. 

She turned away from the forest path that she knew Albus would follow, and went deeper into the foliage, which parted on its own ahead of her approaching footfalls. 

Soon, she came to a wild forest creek, which blocked her path. She smiled at the crystalline water that rushed down the sloping stones. The water droplets sparkled like clear diamonds which disappeared down the stream’s little waterfalls. The creek was just a bit too large for her to leap across, though she knew Albus could probably manage it. 

No matter. She knew there was another way. 

Crouching down on the riverbank she slowly submerged her right hand just below the surface. In an instant, the entire creek froze over and became solid. The rushing sound of the water abruptly stopped. She laughed excitedly at her accomplishment, pranced across the frozen stream, and continued on her way. 

When she had disappeared, the stream became liquid again, and the sound of rushing water continued once more. 

***

“Do you give up yet?” David sneered.

Brian couldn’t respond. His mouth was full of wet earth. David’s knee pressed into the small of his back. One of his hands was on Brian’s neck. The other pinned Brian’s arm behind him. David pushed Brian’s face further into the pool of mud, and held him there. Brian tried to blow air out his mouth. All it did was splatter the mud around him.

The other boys laughed and egged David on. 

“Well?” David asked again. 

Finally, when he felt himself on the verge of passing out, Brian slapped the ground with his free hand. 

David lifted his knee off of Brian’s back, and let his hands go. But when he stood up he still leered over Brian, reminding him the torture could recommence at any moment. Brian took a few moments to spit the mud from his mouth, and let air return to his lungs. 

“I’m waiting,” David said. 

Brian sat on his feet, and tried to avoid the eyes of the other boys. 

“Bri, don’t test me now,” David warned.

Brian gulped and opened his mouth. He had bitten his tongue when his face was forced into the mud, and he suddenly found it difficult to speak. 

“I’m…I’m—” he began softly.

“I can’t hear you!” David yelled.

“I’m a little girl,” Brian said, as he had been commanded. The boys erupted in laughter. It was all good fun. 

“That’s right!” David said, with a wicked grin. “And little girls can’t play with the boys. Go run back home to mum.” 

“Mum said I have to stay with you this time,” Brian reminded him meekly. 

“I’m not your keeper Bri,” David said.

You’re just my brother, Brian thought. 

David was only a year older than him. Though he always seemed to be faster and stronger and smarter in every situation. And of course there were always his cronies to assist, if it ever did seem like Brian was going to get the better of him. 

“Go home,” David said.

It was final. David always got his way. And with that, he turned away from Brian and jauntily marched into the trees, his laughing mates following behind. Brian was left sitting there in the mud, alone. He tried to rub the mud off his face and shirt, as he watched them walk away without a second thought for him. Yet again, he would be alone on another summer day, and have to make his own fun. 

He meandered up the nearby hill, where he could get a wide view of the entire valley. The woods, river and fields that stretched into the distance. The entire plain below was bathed in high noon sunlight. Though warm, the heat of the sun was tempered by a light breeze. A day that would be perfect for adventuring, if he had anyone to adventure with. 

He turned to look over his shoulder, and saw down the hill and across the field, the old gothic mansion that everyone said was haunted. The dark stone manse was covered in terrifying gargoyles and sharp glooming towers. Dead, rotting vines climbed its stone walls. David and his friends wouldn’t go there. Even adults tended to stay away. Something always seemed to propel folks from that place, and gave people an indescribable chill. 

He wondered. Maybe he could? David and his friends would certainly be impressed if he managed the nerve to go in there. He looked at it a second time.

But no. He knew himself, and he knew he would never be brave enough to make it inside that dark ruin.

“Ariana?!” 

The voice drifted from across the meadow. It seemed to come from the old stone wall that separated the field from the forest. Brian waited, silently. 

“You know it’s against the rules to go into the woods!” 

It was the same voice, again from below. It sounded like a boy’s. Curious, Brian picked himself up, and slowly made his way down the hill towards the wall to investigate. 

***

“Gotch you!” Albus yelled excitedly, as he ripped back the leafy branch. But when he looked underneath the bush, all he found were two terrified squirrels that scampered away quickly, and not the mischievous sister he was looking for. He let the tree branch go with a disappointed huff, and turned away from the bush.

“Who are you looking for?” 

Albus whipped himself quickly around to see a boy standing on the stone wall just behind him. He was about Albus’s age more or less. He had thick curly brown hair, and an inquisitive look on his face. Albus thought he looked a little dirty. There was definitely mud on his cheeks that hadn’t been washed away, and his shirt was stained. The stone wall wasn’t very large, barely coming up to Albus’s waist, and the boy seemed to be about Albus’s height, but standing on the wall allowed the boy to tower over Albus. 

“N–no one,” Albus blurted out sheepishly. 

“I could help you if you want?” the boy responded with an innocent smile. 

“I don’t need any help.” Albus started to regain his composure. 

The boy ignored the response. “My name’s Brian, what’s yours?”

Albus gasped. “You’re a muggle !”

“That’s a funny word,” said the boy, cocking his head in amusement. “I’m really good at hide-and-seek games. If we work together we can find her faster,” the boy said excitedly. 

“You’re–you’re not supposed to be here. Muggles aren’t allowed.” Albus said, unsure at how to proceed.

“Says who?” The boy seemed genuinely curious to learn the answer, but Albus didn’t quite know what that answer was.  

“My family owns this land, you’re trespassing,” Albus said defiantly, glad he finally found a response he thought a grown-up would say.

“Really?!” the boy asked. Albus had clearly only increased his interest and excitement. “So you live in that big old, haunted house at the edge of the woods?” 

Albus didn’t have a response ready for this. 

“My brother says ghosts live in there, and feed off the souls of the little children that wander in,” the boy said. 

“They do not!” Albus yelled back. “Since my great-great-grandfather left on holiday there aren't any ghosts in the house. And ghosts don’t feed off people’s souls anyway. Everyone knows that.” 

Albus felt pleased with himself, and thought he had won the argument.

“You are a funny one.” The boy smiled. Albus didn't like this reaction, and was becoming frustrated that he couldn’t get rid of the boy. 

“I told you, you're trespassing. Now leave!” The boy didn’t make a move.

“How do you know I’m trespassing?” he said calmly. Albus fumbled around for a response. 

“See this wall here?!” Albus pointed right at the stone wall on which the boy was standing. “This marks our property. No muggles allowed!” 

The boy looked down for a moment. 

“This wall here?” 

“Yes!” 

“Well I’m not trespassing if I’m standing on the wall then am I?” the boy said cheekily. 

Albus grumbled, and couldn’t think of anything to say back. Instead he turned and started down the path that ran between the wall and the tree line. When he turned to look back, he could see the infuriating boy was skipping after him along the wall, gleefully. 

***

Ariana came to a large open glade surrounded by tall trees. She could feel the heartbeat of the forest here, and all around her she heard the rustling of leaves as the wind moved through. A host of bees and butterflies had followed her into the clearing. She never felt alone in the forest. 

As she walked further into the glade, she could see at the other end a dark gray spot among the blanket of green. She approached curiously, and started to cross to the other side of the glade. As she came closer, the dark spot turned into a pillar, and then finally as she squinted, a statue. A worn, stone statue of an old wizened man, right in the middle of the forest. He was draped in a cloak, and held a staff in his hand. A small dead tree had once wrapped itself around him, its gnarled roots were embedded into the stone. There was a peculiar stillness, or a silence rather, about the figure, but Ariana decided she was not afraid of him. Despite the oddity of finding a stone statue in the middle of the wood, the old man felt perfectly fitted into his surroundings. His eyes were kind. 

Ariana came closer, undaunted. 

She placed her hand on one of the twisted roots that enveloped the statue, and slowly breathed life back into the tree. The blackened branches brightened and turned into a warm brown. Buds appeared, turned into blossoms, and then small leaves. The branches overhead, which had before looked like skeletal hands, became a canopy of flowers that shaded the old man from the harsh light of the sun. 

Pleased, Ariana took a step back, and smiled. 

“How’d you do that?!”

She quickly turned around to see a group of boys entering at the other end of the glade. Their faces expressed a mixture of shock, curiosity, and excitement. But there was also a darkness which she could detect lying underneath. She took a hesitant step back. She could tell they were not like her. 

“Do it again!” one of them yelled.

Ariana remained mute and motionless.

“Come on little girl, show us how you do the trick,” another boy shouted excitedly, as they came up to her. 

“Come on, do it!”

She was soon surrounded by them, with no easy way out. The boy who had spoken first walked right up to her and leered over her. She could tell he was becoming frustrated, but she said nothing.

“I don’t have all day, little girl.” Suddenly he grabbed her arm, and shoved her hand roughly onto the statue. “Do it again!”

Ariana cried out, but she knew Albus was far away, and couldn’t hear her. Scrambling for a means of escape, she jerked her arm out from under the boy. But as she did, his hand caught on one of the branches of the tree and it ripped through his skin. He screamed in pain, and blood quickly appeared from his palm. 

“You little bitch!” 

Ariana backed away. The darkness she had seen earlier appeared on his face. He raised his bloody hand and slapped her hard across the cheek. The blow threw her to the ground.   

The other boys quickly lunged on her, and held her to the ground with their knees. The boy with the bloodied hand came up behind them, and gave her a cruel smile. 

***

The forest path unfortunately ran parallel to the stone wall for quite some time, and the muggle boy with the dirty face was regretfully not giving up easily. Albus had tried to simply ignore him as he made his way down the path, but the boy had taken his silence as an opportunity to fill the void with his own inane thoughts and opinions. 

The boy was from the local muggle village. His father worked in the coal mine, his mother ran a grocery store, and his uncle was a physician. His brother was a bully. 

“Do you have any siblings?” the boy asked innocently. 

Suddenly a loud bang exploded through the forest, followed by the scream of a girl. 

The sky darkened briefly, and the two boys looked up to see what appeared to be a lightning strike some distance away in the woods. Only the lightning was coming up from the ground, rather than down from the sky. 

“Ariana!” Albus yelled.

He ran frantically into the underbrush towards the direction of the explosion. He ran so fast that branches and thorns sliced at him, and made tears into his clothes and face. He soon came to a clearing among the trees. 

Ariana was at the other end. She was writhing in the dirt, and sparks seemed to emerge intermittently from her figure tips. A boy was standing over her. 

“C’mon Davie!” some other boys yelled from across the clearing. “Let’s get back to the village!”

As Albus ran closer, the boy standing over Ariana turned and fled. Albus could just make out his hand, which was covered in blood. The boy caught up with the others, and they disappeared into the trees.

When he finally reached her, Albus could see Ariana’s eyes had rolled back into her sockets. Her mouth was foaming, and her entire body was convulsing uncontrollably. 

“Ariana!” 

Albus was frozen in fear over her. He didn’t know what to do. He felt like a child. 

“We should get her to the village—my uncle can help…” an anxious voice said behind him. Albus looked back. It was the boy from the wall. Albus's fear turned to anger.

“Get away!” he yelled.

“But I can help—”

“Leave us!” 

The boy turned, and ran after the others. Albus and Ariana were left alone in the glade. 

***

It was some time before anyone on the terrace noticed Albus running across the field with Ariana in arms. It was a very long way from the tree line. 

The party quickly disbanded in chaos, and an apothecary was called from Mungo’s. He arrived at dusk and got to work. 

Albus and Aberforth watched from the doorpost, while Ariana was treated in her bedroom. Foggy’s attempts to get them away from her room and back to bed had failed, and soon the house elf gave up despondently.

Their mother and father looked on from her bedside. Though his parent’s bodies blocked his view of the bed, Albus could see Ariana’s hand clenched tightly by his father’s. His knuckles were white.

“I have managed to stabilize her,” the apothecary said sadly, “but the attack has severely damaged her.  She tried to cast a spell which must have rebounded… I’m afraid her mind will never be the same.” 

“What of her magic?” Their father’s voice was low, and garbled with emotions that Albus did not understand. 

The apothecary looked up at him. 

“She will never be able to use a wand.” 

Albus looked on from the bedroom door, as his father let go of Ariana’s hand, and let it drop on the bed sheet.  

***

The bright summer day had turned to twilight, and the darkness was deepening, though rays of the sun still broke through the trees. The clouds were colored red. From the terrace, Albus could see the dark silhouette of his father walking steadily across the field toward the woods. 

“Master Albus, come inside now to bed,” Foggy’s concerned voice called to him from the doorway. 

Albus turned, and walked back inside the house.

Once his bedroom door was safely locked, Albus pried open the window and crawled down one of drain pipes adjacent to the wall, as he had done many times before. When he reached the ground, he ran silently into the field, crouching low so that the tall grass would envelope him. 

It was not long before he caught up with him. 

His father was keeping an even pace through the undergrowth. Albus kept his breath still, and made sure to stay a few yards back so he would not be noticed. Despite the fast-fading light, Albus could see his father’s wand, held at his side. 

A fear came over him that he couldn’t describe, but Albus knew he couldn’t go back. Cautiously, he continued to follow his father through the trees.

Soon they arrived at the clearing, and Albus could hear voices in the distance. From this far away, he couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he knew they were the boys he saw from the glade. They were talking carelessly, and laughing together. 

His father had stopped just before where the trees ended and was waiting. The light had by now completely faded, and the glade was covered in a growing darkness.

Suddenly, the fear Albus had carried all the way from the house completely overtook him. The indescribable uncertainty of the long walk here was replaced by the clarity of horror. He began to run towards his father, knowing he wouldn’t make it.

“Papa, no!”

An invisible force propelled him backwards, and he landed on his back on the ground. Bright flashes of green light appeared in the distance from the glade. They lit up the sky, and then quickly faded. One… then another…then another. Each time the glade was bathed in a sharp green glow, which was then swiftly swallowed by the darkness. 

And then it stopped. 

Everything felt cold. He heard the crunch of his father’s footsteps in the dirt. They passed him, and then he heard them head back in the direction of the house. Whether or not he saw him, Albus didn’t know. He slowly picked himself up, and stood there alone in the darkness. 

“Papa?!” he called out. 

The disappearing silhouette of his father showed no sign that he had heard, and he kept on walking through the trees. 

“Papa?!”

“Papa?!”

Chapter Text

Many years later.

St. James Sq. London.

Early Autumn.

The crowd had expanded exponentially since the speeches began, and was becoming more agitated by the hour. On the platform in the center of the square, the speakers had grown fearful that the barricades separating them from the audience would be overthrown, and that they would be left at the mercy of the mob. As of yet, no one had begun throwing rotten food, or worse, stones. But that could change at any moment. 

“Traitors!”

“Coward!” 

The next speaker was clearly affected by the growing anger of the mob, and the obscenities being yelled at him, but he did his best not to show it. He took to the podium in the middle of the square, surrounded by the thronging crowd, with as much confidence as he could muster. 

“My countrymen,” he began trepidatiously, but still sure of his words. “I’m as ardent a patriot as any of you—but to love my country, is not to worship it—”

The shouts of the crowd grew louder, and more vulgar. For a time, the voice of the speaker was drowned out by the din. 

“My friends! We must not go to war with Germany! If we truly hold our sons dear, we must give peace a chance—”

But the mob did not care, and only a few could even hear him as he attempted to yell above them. 

Across the street, a man in a bowler hat watched the scene gloomily from a dark alley. Miles Kay was a middle-aged, though still youthful, black man, and dressed in his usual simple, neat suit. He seemed to be in no rush to get anywhere. He leaned nonchalantly against a brick wall, and watched the scene unfold. 

It was a typical, foggy London day, with little to brighten the mood. From the entrance to the alley where he stood watching the speeches, it was possible for Miles to hear himself think, but the passionate crowd was clearly growing in size. The few passerby trying to mind their own business, were increasingly choosing different routes for their daily chores. 

Miles pulled an old pocket watch from his waistcoat, and twisted the dial three times. He then spoke directly into the watch face. 

“Is everyone in position?” he said, barely above a whisper. To the pedestrians on the street, it may have looked like he was merely cleaning his watch. 

“Yes, sir,” he could hear Gwen say first.

“Yes,” Tristan said after.

After a pause, Lucan confirmed as well, though his voice came garbled by background noise.

“Yes, sir.” 

Each of them was situated somewhere in or around the city square. Gwen, on the second floor of the building on the other side; Tristan, at the street entrance directly adjacent to Miles; and Lucan, somewhere in the crowd itself, closest to the podium. 

“Any sign of the Snakes?” Miles asked.

“No sir, although this crowd is getting pretty rowdy,” Lucan said.

“It’s not the crowd I’m worried about,” Miles replied grimly. 

Suddenly, Miles could hear a swish of air behind him, like the flapping of wings. He looked back into the dark, empty alley. A few discarded newspapers caught in the wind like tumbleweeds and drifted down the passageway towards him. Cautiously, he pulled his wand from his coat pocket and kept it ready at his side. The alley was really a messy network of dark passageways. Several side streets, barely the width of two men, connected onto the main alley. From his position he couldn’t see down several of them without moving away from the crowd. 

He took two slow steps forward, making sure to twist the dial of the pocket watch so no stray sound could wander through. He took two more steps, and then crouched down quietly by the corner of the wall where it met the first passageway.

In one fast motion, he leapt into the intersection with his wand raised, only to find himself face to face with a mirror image of himself. It was another man, wand similarly raised, staring back at him. Both of them held still, not saying a word. The man was a little shorter than Miles, with a sweaty face, dark uncombed hair, and wide eyes. Miles could hear him making quick, anxious breaths. 

“Identify yourself!” Miles said finally. 

“A-Artie… Artie Gawain,” the man responded fearfully. Neither of them lowered their wands.

“Who sent you?!” Miles asked sternly. 

“M-Marie,” the man responded, clearly the more intimidated one. 

Very slowly, Miles started to lower his wand, and then Artie followed suit. When they both had finally lowered their wands, Artie brought his hands together with his wand clasped in between, and bowed his head. Miles returned the gesture.

“Do you have it?” Miles asked, in a lower voice than before. 

“Yes,” Artie replied, starting to become calm again. He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small red envelope. 

“You shouldn’t have come here, we’re in the middle of an operation.” Miles was angry, things weren't going according to plan. 

“Marie said it was too dangerous to exchange it at the office. She said I had to put it in your hands directly, and that I should find you here. Not enough people we could trust.” Artie said, apologetically. 

“Well—she shouldn’t have,” Miles replied, with a curt shake of his head. 

As Artie handed him the envelope, Miles began twisting the dial of his pocket watch. He wanted to make sure everything was alright with the others. As soon as he twisted the dial a third time, he heard Lucan’s voice come through, almost drowned out by the noise of the crowd.

“Miles! I think they’re —”, but the rest of Lucan’s message was garbled by the yells and obscenities from the mob.

“Lucan?! Tris—” 

Suddenly, Miles looked up to see Artie flying backwards into the alley behind him. Miles dropped to the ground just in time to dodge another stupefaction spell, which flew right above his head and knocked off his bowler hat. As he spun himself around to meet his assailant, he pointed his wand into the alleyway behind him. 

“Expelliarmus!” 

But the spell hit nothing but the wall of the building across from him. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for the chance to meet you,” a deep, staccato voice said to his right, farther into the shadows of the alleyway. 

Miles kept his wand raised, and peered closer towards the direction of the voice. He saw the man’s crooked wand first, then his arm, and then finally his face appeared from the shadows. He had platinum white hair, and a scar that came down from his forehead, across one half-closed eye, and ended on his cheek. His lip curled into a knowing, disturbing smile. 

“Well here I am,” Miles replied boldly.

“Expected a little more, to be honest,” the man spat back, unimpressed. 

At that moment, Miles heard behind him the loud bang of an explosion. He looked back and saw great clouds of dust appear in the square beyond. Screams of men and women followed. And then, a great force pushed him back into the alley wall. His wand was ripped out of his hand. 

The pale face of the man with the scar was suddenly above him. Miles could smell his acidic breath in his nose. Before Miles could stop him, the man quickly pulled the red envelope right out of Miles’s coat pocket where he had been concealing it. With one foot, he contemptuously kicked Miles’s wand back over to him where he lay in the mud of the gutter.

“Pick up your wand, filthy mudblood. You’re gonna need it.” 

Without wasting a breath, he spat right in Miles’s face and then vanished into thin air. 

Miles laid there for a moment, catching his breath. His heart was beating fast. A throbbing pain in his back from where he had hit the wall started to become more acute. He looked over to where Artie lay motionless, but he knew he was only stupefied, and would be alright. The screams from the square jolted him back to attention. He pulled himself up from the ground, picked up his wand, and ran back into the square beyond the alley. As he ran, he wiped the spit from his face. 

People were running fretfully in every direction, and he could hear many screaming in agony. Several of them were covered in blood. Dust and smoke had blanketed the square, and he couldn’t see the platform at its center. A man ran out of the dust cloud with an unconscious woman in his arms. Miles ran towards the center of the square, holding a hand to his mouth to protect himself from the smoke. 

It was not long before he found Lucan and Gwen. They were kneeling down on the ground amid the wreckage that had once been the speakers’ platform. Parts of the structure were burning. They were surrounded by bodies. 

Gwen looked up to him as he approached. Fear and despair were etched on her face. 

“Miles, I’m sorry—they came out of nowhere … I didn’t have time to react…” 

Miles didn’t respond, but looked down between them. Lucan was leaning over the body of the last speaker. His blank eyes confirmed that he was dead. 

“Tristan?” Miles asked softly. 

Lucan shook his head. 

“How were they able to slip past our defensive barrier?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t know,” Miles responded grimly, “but one thing’s for certain—” He looked around at the quickly depopulating square. 

“The muggle world is one step closer to war.” 

Chapter Text

Several days later.

King’s Cross Station, London, Platform 9 ¾.

Isobel took one fleeting glance at the great clock overhead as she ran through the large entrance way of King’s Cross. 

She was late. The train never waited for anyone, and she knew she wouldn’t be the exception. She dodged incoming passerby, and moved her way through the busy platforms of the London train station, clutching her valise and the day's newspaper closely under her arm. 

She had thick black hair done up in a sensible coiffure, though it was coming undone in places, and she would have to fix it on the train. Her darting eyes were rich brown and her cheeks red from running. She was a handsome young woman, and turned many a head, though she paid no one any mind. She would have been considered graceful if she wasn’t running nearly full speed through the train station. The elderly madam coming from the other way disapproved, while a young girl sitting on a nearby bench thought she looked healthy and invigorated. She sped up her pace, and pulled up the hem of her skirt so she could run more easily. 

She was now in her final year at Hogwarts, and she knew this would be the last time she would be making the trip by train. She was almost glad she was in a rush, so she didn’t have time to dwell on her feelings. 

Seven. Eight. 

Nine. 

She ran down the steps, and then along the platform to the familiar pillar.

The sign read: “Platform 9 ¾.”

Without slowing her pace, she ran right into the pillar and disappeared from the view of the crowded train station. 

She reappeared, as she had expected, on a bright, steam-filled platform with the gleaming black and red train before her. She had made it in time, with a minute to spare. Pleased, she smiled, and jumped onto the nearest train car just as the whistle began to blow. 

The great train rumbled to life underneath her, and slowly its wheels started to rotate. She looked back to the platform to see crowds of parents and friends wave the train fondly goodbye. The half-bodies of first-years waved back out of the car windows, as the train lumbered out of the station and into the green country beyond. 

Isobel took a moment to feel the wind on her face and smell the fast rushing air, before closing the train car door behind her.  

The cars were packed with the usual students, tugging luggage, bound books, and strange animals in cages. They made Isobel feel old. Their laughter, excitement, and expectation brought her back to her first voyage on the train, and despite her best efforts, she started to feel sad thinking of times long past. Her last ride on the Hogwarts Express, she thought. 

She pushed away any thoughts of nostalgia, and regained the spring in her step. As she made her way down the rumbling train passage, she peered into the compartment windows. Most of them were already full with friends excitedly reuniting, and getting comfortable for the journey. She moved on, looking in each compartment as she passed. 

Finally, she found him. 

She threw open the compartment door with a loud whack, startling the young man inside, who had been quietly reading his book alone. 

“Lost in another book are we?” she said with a smile. 

The young man dropped his book to his lap and gave her a wide grin. 

“Didn’t want to give anyone the impression that I was open to conversation.” 

“That was exactly the impression you gave me,” she said, throwing her valise carelessly on the seat beside him. 

“Hello, Albus.”

“Hello, Isobel.”

He stood up from his seat by the window, and gave her a long, warm embrace. 

He had light brown hair, parted at the side, that was shorter than Isobel remembered.  She could tell he rarely combed it with anything other than his fingers.  His eyes were soft and blue, and seemed to twinkle the light. Already he was getting smile wrinkles about the eyes, which Isobel found endearing. He was dressed in a well-fitting, though a bit worn, tweed suit, and had only one small briefcase as his luggage. Despite the somewhat disheveled look of a burned-out student, he had a vibrancy and energy to him. He gave the impression that he didn’t look in the mirror very often, and yet he was clearly handsome. Isobel noted that he seemed to be growing more into his looks since she last saw him. 

Once they separated, Isobel dropped herself on the seat opposite Albus with an exhausted huff. She threw her feet onto the seat next to him, as if ready to take a long nap. 

“Can you believe I ran all the way here?” she said, as she began to fix her hair.

“I can actually,” he said, as he sat back down by the window. 

“Thank you for taking the train with me,” she said. “I think I would’ve been too emotional without you.”

“I like taking the train. It calms me,” he said. He picked his book up from where he had dropped it and found his place again. 

“And what's on the reading list this week?” 

He held his book up so she could get a glimpse. 

“Sites of Historical Sorcery ? Really Albus, when was the last time you did some light reading?” 

“This is light reading,” he shot back. 

She rolled her eyes. 

“How about you try one of these,” she said, throwing the newspaper onto his lap that she had been keeping tucked under her arm until now. 

He took a quick look down, and read the front page line:

THE DAILY PROPHET

MUGGLE PEACE PROTEST ENDS IN TRAGEDY

Below was a photograph of what looked to be an explosion in the heart of London. The dust clouds billowed and rolled through the streets. After a few moments, the photograph rewound itself, and he could see the dust cloud explode, ever outward. 

“I don’t have much time for news these days,” he said, returning to his book. 

“Maybe you should make more time.”

Putting her feet down, she leaned over to him, and flipped the page of the newspaper. He looked down again. 

MILES KAY BECOMES FIRST MUGGLE-BORN APPOINTED TO HIGH POST AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Below was a photograph of what looked to be a 30-something black man, in a bowler hat and Ministry robes. His face looked concerned, but determined. 

Miles Kay has been appointed Undersecretary by Minister of Magic Faris Spavin. 

Undersecretary Kay pledged to be a “representative for the Muggle-born community” in his new post, and said that the Ministry could, “no longer ignore the Muggle world”. His appointment came two days after a deadly terrorist attack in St. James Sq. in which one wizard and twenty-three muggles were killed.

Albus lingered on the page for a minute, and then returned to his book. 

“Why should I care about all of that?” he said casually, without looking up. Isobel stared at him for a moment, and then sat back in her seat, turning her eyes to the train window. 

“He’s created quite a stir at the Ministry. Spavin clearly likes him,” Albus didn’t respond and continued reading. Isobel gave him a quick glance, and then looked back outside at the rolling hills passing them by.  “I thought he was charming.”

“You met him?” 

“Briefly, after his speech.”

“So how was the long-coveted summer internship at the Ministry?” Albus asked, eager to change the subject. 

“Oh you know, endless adventure and excitement. Investigating dark wizards, confiscating dangerous magical artifacts—” Albus gave her a grinning look over his book, “—sending owls and organizing files. Oh Albus, I never realized work was so monotonous,” She groaned. 

“You should feel grateful. There are plenty of witches who would have killed for that internship.” 

“Don’t act like you couldn’t have gotten one easily if you tried,” she shot back. “If I had a galleon for every time a ministry assistant mentioned ‘the Dumbledore boy’ this summer, I’d be richer than the Minister of Magic.” 

“They’re talking about me at the Ministry?” 

“Oh don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she said with huff. 

Albus gave a little chuckle and continued reading. She let him relish it for a moment before moving on. 

“You’ve had a busy summer yourself, so I’ve heard,” she said, giving him a knowing look. Albus’s face immediately beamed with excitement. 

“I’ve already had interest from five publishers,” he said, as he put down his book and reached into his briefcase at his feet. “The offers keep piling up.” He pulled out a large paper pamphlet, and handed it to Isobel. 

“Yes, Twelve Novel Uses for Dragon’s Blood, An Investigation, by Albus Dumbledore, “ she read in an exaggerated voice. “Congratulations Albus, you’ve managed to make even dragons boring.” 

Albus gave a laugh. 

“Joke all you want, but the potential medicinal uses might be endless, and people are interested in the applications. I even received a letter from Nicholas Flamel.” 

“Did you put it in a shrine?” she quipped. 

Albus ignored the comment, and continued excitedly, “Professor Dippet is allowing me to use his laboratory for the year, to continue my research.” 

She liked to see him get so excited about things. By now she understood that Albus loved magic in a way few others did. She dropped her typical sarcasm, and gave him a genuine smile. 

“In all seriousness, congratulations Albus, you’ve earned it.” She handed the pamphlet back to Albus. He held it in his hands for a moment before carefully stowing it away in his briefcase.

They spent the next several hours discussing Isobel’s time at the Ministry, and the humdrum of magical bureaucracy. The summer spent in London meant Isobel barely had time for Quidditch practice. She longed to be back on the field. Albus gave her a brief synopsis of his soon-to-be-published research, which he knew Isobel was never going to read on her own. The north English countryside rolled past them, and the sun was starting to peak out behind the endless sea of clouds. 

After a lull in the conversation, Isobel sensed her opportunity. 

“I received an owl … from your mother,” Isobel started, her voice a little unsure. Albus kept his gaze out the window, expressionless. “She says she hasn’t heard from you all summer… that you aren’t returning any of her owls.” She didn’t quite know how to continue.

“I’ve been busy this summer,” he said curtly.

“You didn’t go home at all? Not even once?”

“Godric’s Hollow isn’t home for me.” 

Then, just as the train made it around the next bend, he could see the spires of the towers rise in the distance. When the sun hit them, they gleamed and sparkled. He could see the lights of the great hall, just starting to be lit. Their reflection appeared in the Black Lake below. 

He was home. 

Isobel must have been able to see it all on his face because she asked, “What's got you in a good mood?”

He turned from the window and looked at her. 

“He’s back.” 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

Groups of students, embracing and laughing after a summer spent apart, were suddenly thrust aside by the high pitched sound of neighing, and the bright flash of white moving past them. Students tripped over themselves to get out of harm's way, and ran closer to the safety of the walls. 

At first, it seemed to be a white horse galloping wildly through the halls. But as the frightened crowd observed it closer, they could see it was no horse. Unless its horn was some enchantment. And atop its back, riding with no saddle, and clenching the beast’s hair in his hand, was a boy. He was laughing carelessly to himself, as if they were riding out on some hilltop, rather than through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

His bright blond hair was pushed back, and he had a beaming smile on his face. He seemed to be an older student, perhaps even in his last year, but his clear laugh was like a child’s at play. 

He sped through the halls, turning quickly around sharp corners. Students and teachers fled as they heard the sound of the unicorn’s hooves approach. 

He caught sight of a group of students appearing from the steps to the main entrance, and suddenly he pulled hard on the hair of the unicorn. She reared up, neighing loudly, and came to a halt.

“Albus!” 

The boy leapt from the beast, barely giving the animal a second glance, and ran towards a shocked, but excited Albus, who had just entered the castle from the main hall. 

“Gellert!” 

They embraced, laughing. 

“It’s good to see you, Gellert!” Albus said excitedly, giving Gellert a long look. “What’s all this about?” 

He gestured at the unicorn that was clearly still frightened, but glad to have the wild boy off of her for the moment. 

“Oh just a bit of fun,” Gellert said with a laugh, waving it away.

“How were you able to mount it?” Isobel asked, appearing at Albus’s side with a critical look. Gellert hadn’t noticed her until then.

“Hello, Isobel.” 

“Mature unicorns don’t like the touch of men,” she said curtly. 

“Oh this one didn’t mind,” Gellert responded, with another careless laugh. Although the panicked movements of the unicorn seemed to tell a different story. “Thought I would take over Care of Magical Creatures while I’m here, what do you think?” 

Albus laughed. Isobel didn’t. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Albus repeated. 

“You too.” Gellert smiled, looking Albus over again. 

“Gellert Grindelwald!” 

They all turned to look up at the adjacent stairwell, where they saw Headmaster Black, arms crossed and nostrils flaring. Phineas Nigellus Black was not someone any student liked to encounter in the hallways of Hogwarts, though he typically kept his emotions in check behind a steely exterior. But as they looked at him glaring from atop the stairwell, he looked like a kettle about to blow off its top. 

“You will come to my office immediately!” he barked, and then quickly turned about. 

He headed back down the hallway, his long cloak billowing behind him. Students cleared a path, almost as frightened of him as they had been of the out-of-control unicorn they had dodged moments earlier. 

Gellert turned back to Albus and grinned. 

“It’s good to be back.” 

***

“Grindelwald, I have given you enough second chances,” Headmaster Black berated him from behind the large ornate desk. They were in the headmaster’s office, a room Grindelwald had become intimately familiar with over the years. 

“I presume by now you understand what a disgrace you have been both to this school, and to your family.” Black’s eyes bulged with hostility. Gellert tried to keep his own locked to the floor. He knew how to play the game by this point. “I have had more letters than I can count from your aunt, pleading with me to keep you on. But even she has lost faith in you. Of course we had hoped that a summer spent in Durmstrang would change your attitude. Clearly our hopes have come to naught.” At this, Headmaster Black stood up from his chair. He walked around the desk past Gellert, and began to pace about the office. Gellert was in for another lecture. He hoped it would be brief. 

“The shame is you had such promise, Gellert. When your teachers weren't reporting you for the latest debacle, they said you were one of the best wizards in your class. And yet here we are. What a waste. If it hadn’t been for your family’s prestigious name, and their generous donation to keep you on, you would have been expelled from this school long ago.” 

He stopped pacing right beside Gellert. Gellert’s face showed no sign that his words had affected him. 

“Look at me!” the headmaster said. As he said it, he brought his hand up to Gellert’s chin and forced it in his direction. He searched for something in Gellert’s eyes. 

“The world needed more wizards like you. Purebloods, from strong family lines.” The tone of Black’s voice shifted from anger to a weary sadness. “Especially now, when we’re being overrun—We had such plans for you.”

Gellert returned his look coolly, but said nothing in return. 

“I want you to remember that the only reason you have been allowed back this year is my promise to you aunt. I won’t go back on my word to Bathilda. My only hope now is that you can make it through this last year with minimal disruption. And then I will never have to see your face again.” 

Gellert remained silent, staring at the floor. 

“A month’s detention, for this latest offense.”

“May I go, Headmaster?” 

“Yes,” Black said, reluctantly. 

Gellert turned, and was halfway to the door when Black stopped him.

“Oh, and Gellert—” 

Gellert turned around. 

“Stay away from Albus—I don’t want a wizard with as much promise and ability as he does to be tainted by you.” 

Gellert waited a moment, staring back. When it was clear the Headmaster had nothing left to tell him, he turned and went out the office door. 

He walked down the moving staircase, with the rotating eagle at its center that he always found unsettling. Once he made it to the bottom, he looked up to see Albus, who had been waiting in the usual spot, in the alcove just across the passage. He still had his briefcase, a newspaper and a book stuck under his arm. He had not yet been back to Gryffindor Tower. Once he caught sight of Gellert, his whole face lit up. 

“Well,” Gellert said, holding out his hands. “I’ve been reformed.”

Albus laughed, and then came up to him, enveloping him in another tight hug, though he held on longer than before. He was glad to see that his friend had not changed. 

“Still up to the old tricks then?” Albus asked.

“Thought I would start my last year off with a bang.” 

“Will it actually be, this time?” Albus chided him.

“I don’t know what this place is going to do without me.” 

Gellert’s blonde hair had grown longer since Albus last saw him. He pushed it back from his face to reveal his piercing blue eyes. The knowing eyes which seemed to look deep into you, and made you feel like he knew exactly what you were about. As if he knew your secrets, but didn’t care enough to reveal them. Most could not hold his gaze for very long. His face was as sharp as if it had been carved from a marble slab. He could have been royalty. A prince without a kingdom. And yet he had a charisma that many students, no matter the house, were attracted to. Even if against their better judgment. No one lasted very long in his acquaintance before he got bored of them. Albus was the only exception. 

They meandered over to the alcove where Albus had been waiting for Gellert. There was an open window which overlooked the grounds. It was a place Albus had often waited with a book, while Gellert was being told off by the Headmaster. 

“So was it all that bad? Durmstrang? You hear so many things…”

“Oh not so bad,” Gellert said earnestly, “I did learn a lot of things…” He looked back at Albus with a wink in his eyes. “Terrible to be separated from you though.” 

Albus smiled, and then excitedly reached into his briefcase. After fumbling about for a moment, he pulled out a folded piece of parchment. When he opened it, Gellert could see it was a map of the continent, littered with notes and scribblings. 

“I’ve been planning it out all summer.” He smoothed the map out with his hands on the large window ledge so Gellert could get a better glimpse. 

“What is all this Albus?” 

Albus looked back at him. 

“The grand tour, remember? I’ve made sure to block out all the major historical sites, places of magical importance. I’ve been compiling all our notes on the Hallows. All the locations we suspected they would be. You haven’t forgotten, have you?” 

“Oh Albus,” Gellert smirked. “You actually organized all of our little scribbles?” 

“Of course!” Albus said.

It had long been their shared dream. Ever since Albus had discovered their existence snooping in a forgotten section of the library. To find the Deathly Hallows, together. At times it had been more hypothetical, at others more real, but when Gellert learned that he had been condemned to the confines of Durmstrang for the summer, they had made their pact. Once Gellert had finally graduated, they would go on their grand tour, traveling to all the places they might be found. Their last adventure as students, their first as mature wizards. Albus had thought about it every day that summer. In between his writings and experiments, he had been making plans. It had taken the sting out of being separated from Gellert, who was not allowed even an owl from the outside all summer. 

“You know Albus … perhaps we should hold off on the grand plan.” 

“Whatever for?” Albus asked, taken aback. 

Gellert didn’t respond, but stared at him. The newspaper Albus had left on the corner of the windowsill caught his eye. He took it and opened up the page, laying it over the map. 

MILES KAY BECOMES FIRST MUGGLE-BORN APPOINTED TO HIGH POST AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

A shadow crossed over Gellert’s face, and a furrow appeared in his brow.

“Can you believe this?” His voice had dropped a bit, like he was revealing a shameful secret. Albus looked down at the newspaper. 

“He’s just one man,” Albus said, a little annoyed to be having this conversation a second time. 

“One of them is always how it starts,” Gellert shot back. “Soon they’ll be overrunning the Ministry. Making all the decisions for the rest of us.” 

“I’m sure it’s just a ceremonial role—for the publicity.” 

“You’re too innocent, Albus. All those books you read haven’t taught you anything about the world.”

“I know enough.” 

“Maybe not as much as you think.”

Gellert looked at Albus searchingly and said, “I met some wizards at Durmstrang…who had some interesting ideas. They actually really want to meet you.”

“Me? Why?” Albus asked, a tad embarrassed. Gellert smiled. 

“Albus… you’re becoming famous.” 

Albus didn’t know what to say to this. He blushed, and looked away. 

Gellert’s face brightened. He reached out and tousled Albus’s hair fondly. 

“You cut your hair.” Albus pushed his hand away, and quickly tried to recreate his part.

“I liked it better before,” Gellert said.

“Thought this was more professional,” Albus explained.

“Too professional.”

Gellert’s hand went to Dumbledore’s neck tie. He tugged it gently. 

A group of Gryffindor boys appeared at the end of the corridor. When they caught sight of Albus and Gellert, their chatting and laughter stopped. Gellert dropped his hand, and they each took a step back from each other; they had been standing very close together. 

One of the boys shot Albus a dark glance. He looked to be a fifth year, a bit sulky looking, with light brown hair, and blue eyes. He had stains on his collar, and his tie was undone. 

The boys resumed their chatter, and continued down the corridor. 

“Time to head back to the dungeon where I belong,” Gellert said. 

“Catch you after dinner?” Albus asked excitedly.

“Sure thing.” 

With that, Gellert started down the hall toward the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was. When he was gone, Albus picked up his belongings and hurriedly ran after the group of Gryffindor boys going in the other direction. They hadn’t got far, and the gloomy, sloven boy was in the back of the pack.

“Aberforth!” Albus called. He reached for him, but Aberforth spun around before he could touch his shoulder and gave Albus a pointed stare. 

“Don’t touch me,” he spat.

“Look Aberforth, I just wanted to say I’m—”

“I don’t care!” Aberforth didn’t let him finish. “Why don’t you go hang out with your Slytherin friend back there. He seems to be the only person you have time for these days— isn’t that right?” He had raised his voice so that everyone in the hallway could hear. Albus didn’t know what to say to him, and stood there meekly for a moment. The other boys had stopped as well, and looked on awkwardly. 

Before Albus could think of something to say, Aberforth turned back and continued walking down the corridor, pushing past the other boys who soon followed him.

“Aberforth!” Albus called after. His voice sounded hollow. 

Aberforth didn’t look back, and continued on his way.  

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

“Transfiguration is one of the most mathematical and exacting branches of magic. Simple errors can lead to disastrous consequences, which is why all transfiguration spells should be cast with certainty and precision.” 

Pulling out his wand, Albus pointed it towards the chalk on his desk. It immediately sprang into action, following his lecture on the blackboard behind him. 

“The intended transformation, here represented by the variable t , is influenced by multiple factors. Body weight, represented by variable a; viciousness, represented by variable v; wand power, w; and concentration, c. There is, however, a fifth unknown variable, as with any magical enchantment, which cannot always be planned for. The unknown variable is here represented by variable Z. Ergo, we can assume the following formula.” The chalk had already gotten there, and had written the formula on the board:

t=(a+v+w+c)Z 

Albus looked back at the classroom behind him. He could tell he was losing them. One girl in the back row was fast asleep. A boy not far from the front was folding a piece of paper into the shape of a bird. He continued his lecture, walking in between the desks. 

“While transfiguration does indeed concern the changing of the essence of one thing into the form of another, something of that original essence does always remain.” 

Here he snatched the paper bird, which the boy had just finished, and threw it into the air. With a quick flick of his wand, the folded paper transformed immediately into a sparrow. Upon gaining life, the bird darted about the room, and the class was quickly enlivened as well. Albus smiled to himself. 

“Of course transfiguring inanimate objects into animate ones comes with its risks. And once you create a thing, you do not necessarily control it.” 

The sparrow flitted back to the boy who had made it. Though he had felt a bit ashamed to be caught distracted by the young teacher before, he was ecstatic to see his creation given life. The bird did not give him a long time to enjoy it. In a sudden motion, the sparrow snatched the wire-rimmed glasses that had been perched on the boy’s nose and flew away. The classroom immediately burst into laughter, Albus included. 

“As you can see, while I have transformed the paper bird into a real one, I am not its original creator. The sparrow has inherited Henry’s sense of mischief.” 

He pulled out his wand again and pointed it at the bird. In an instant, the flapping feathered wings reverted back to paper. The glasses the bird had been carrying fell straight down, right into Albus’s hand. He placed them carefully on the desk of the boy, who was busy retrieving the paper bird he had created from the floor. Albus knew the boy would spend the rest of the week trying to recreate the spell, ensuring that this week's lesson wouldn’t be a waste. Albus walked back to the blackboard where the floating chalk was waiting for the next part of the lesson. 

“I would like us all to turn to page one hundred and eighty-six in Emeric Switch’s A Beginner’s Guide to Transformation , where he outlines the exceptions to this rule.” 

When Albus reached the chalkboard, he turned, and saw that a figure in black robes had entered the classroom. It was the headmaster. He was standing along the wall by the door silently, careful not to interrupt the flow of the lesson. He gave Albus a quiet nod. 

“Alright, who can tell me the first Principle Exception to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration?”

***

Albus poured the contents of the small flask delicately into the glass beaker before him. He gave the beaker a swirl, as the red liquid inside immediately began to bubble and then turn a greenish otherworldly color, just as he had predicted. He quickly grabbed his quill, dipped it in some ink, and started making notes in his legerbook. His fingers were black from writing.

He was alone in the office-laboratory of Professor Dippet, and while it was a rather dark, musty room, Albus was completely untroubled. He was enjoying the opportunity to simply explore to his heart’s content. He had always had a profound love of magic, but now he was finding he had the ability to really travel wherever his curiosity took him. Everything seemed limitless. He loved using his hands. He loved learning new things. He loved the excitement of the magical reaction, and would cry out with delight at the results, even when the experiments took an unplanned for, and decidedly dangerous turn. In certain ways, he was more comfortable there, alone, performing his many experiments, then among others. There was no one to pry, no one he had to answer to. Despite the solitude of the dark room, the magic made him feel connected to the spirit of things. It made him feel connected to the world. 

He was thrilled to learn Professor Dippet had decided to lend him the use of his office for the entire year, after Albus’s successful summer. He could now look forward to a year of uninterrupted, and unsupervised, experimentation. 

A soft knock at the door disturbed his preparation for the next reaction. 

“Come in.”

To his surprise, it was Headmaster Black. 

“Headmaster?” Albus said, caught off guard. 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Black said warmly. 

His animosity from yesterday’s incident with Gellert had apparently faded, and he had a more congenial demeanor. He took a look about the room, and the several apparatuses Albus had pulled out for his experiments. Albus stood there silently, waiting for Black to speak. 

“Your work is going well I presume?”

“Yes, headmaster.” 

“Good,” he said disinterestedly. “I caught the end of your lecture today. You’ve proved quite an asset to Professor Dippet.” 

“Professor Dippet has been very obliging in his support.” Albus said, becoming uncomfortable. He had not had many conversations with Headmaster Black, at least none that he could recall. This was probably their longest one. 

“You clearly deserve it, Albus.” 

Still unsure how to respond, Albus looked at his hands. 

“You know Albus, I was supportive of you staying on another year to continue your research, and you are clearly holding your own as an assistant teacher… but it is selfish of us to keep you here behind a teacher’s desk.” Albus tried to express some humility at this, but the headmaster quickly held up a hand to stop him. 

“Albus, it goes without saying that you are probably the most brilliant student this school has had in a generation, and we both know you are destined for great things. Have you given any thought to your future?”

“Yes… well—I…” Albus fumbled. He didn’t like this question, and wished he could go back to his experiment alone. 

“Albus, you know you could do anything—anything you desire. What do you want? What are your plans beyond this year? It would be completely reprehensible for me to allow you to continue here another year—to let you turn into a mere teacher.” 

Here the headmaster laughed. Albus tried to as well. 

“Well, actually … Gellert and I …we were planning on going on the grand tour—once he graduates that is.” 

Headmaster Black’s expression immediately changed to one of frustration. 

“Albus, I must urge you to stay away from that boy. Do not waste your future on Gellert Grindelwald. There was a time when his aunt and I had hoped your friendship might be of use to him—but that time is past. I will not allow him to tamper with any future career you might have, which I am sure will be spectacular.” 

Albus stayed silent, and felt his cheeks grow hot. It had been a while since a professor had given him a telling-off. Even before he had graduated, when he had just started student teaching, the other members of the faculty had already begun treating him as an equal. He did not like this reversion back to ashamed school boy. 

Black could see the effect his words were having on Albus, and he softened his tone. 

“You have come so far, Albus. After everything with your family—” Black was choosing his words delicately here, “—you have clearly risen above, and proven wrong anyone who doubted you.” 

The headmaster came up to him, and placed his hand on Albus’s shoulder. It was a rather awkward gesture. Albus could tell the headmaster was not used to speaking in this way to anyone. 

“I understand it's been a long time since you’ve had a father’s guidance. If you ever need my support or advice Albus, you will have it.” 

He turned away from Albus, and began walking back slowly towards the door. Before he got there, he seemed to remember something. 

“I’ve received several owls from some important people at the Ministry,” he said, looking back at Albus with a grin. “They’re all asking me what your plans are once you leave Hogwarts. I didn’t know what to tell them.” 

Albus couldn’t stop his excitement from appearing on his face. 

“Do I have liberty to write them on your behalf?” the headmaster asked, pleased his words finally seemed to be having the right effect. 

Albus was annoyed that the headmaster had gotten to him, but all he could do was give a fervent nod. Black smiled at him, and continued towards the door.

“I will leave you to your work.” 

When he had gone, Albus stood there for a long while, lost in thought. 

***

“Knight to D5.” The chess piece moved itself into position, and once there drove it’s lance through the mitre of Isobel’s bishop. The broken pieces scattered across the board. 

“Queen to D5.” The queen proceeded as directed, and stabbed Albus’s knight through its stone armor. The knight and its horse were pushed aside. 

Albus swore, and Isobel smirked at herself. Her queen was becoming an increasing threat, and Albus’s options were dwindling. 

They were in the great hall, candles floating overhead, illuminating the chess board. A few groups of students roamed about, catching an afternoon snack and studying in little clusters, but the hall was largely empty. The dinner rush wouldn’t be for another hour or so. 

“So what did he say after that?” Isobel continued. 

“Well, he kind of hinted that some people at the Ministry were interested in me.” He looked up from the board, but Isobel had made sure to keep her gaze averted. 

“Really?”

“Some departments have been reaching out to him, apparently.” 

“Have you thought about which ones you might be interested in?” He could tell she was treading cautiously, but he knew where she was headed. He didn’t want to be faced with the same question the headmaster had posed him.

“Who’s to say the Ministry’s even right for me,” he said, trying to deflect. Isobel looked up finally and rolled her eyes.

“Albus, the way they were talking this summer, it seemed like some departments were practically ready to start a bidding war over you.” 

“Rook to G6.” 

“Knight to G6.” 

He swore again; he hadn’t seen that move. 

“He also said I should stop seeing Gellert.” 

Isobel didn’t look up, and continued to stare at the board. 

“I know you don’t like him,” he began. “You haven’t exactly been hesitant to share your opinions in the past.” 

She kept silent at his words. 

“But he is good, despite what you believe. And he’s my friend—isn’t that enough?”

“I’m your friend, Albus.” 

He hated her concerned, agitated face whenever they talked about Gellert. Her lightness was cast aside, and she turned into a worried sister. He regretted bringing it up. 

“I know you are. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“Look, I know you two have always been joined at the hip, and I’ve never quite understood your weird little Gryffindor-Slytherin friendship. It’s none of that. It's just … I don’t like the way he speaks sometimes.” 

She brought her eyes back to him. 

“And?” he asked.

“And—I don’t always like the way you look at him.” 

He shouldn’t have pushed her. So much was on the board. She had come dangerously close to speaking of things that they never spoke of. They both sensed it, and she backed off. 

“Albus, it's alright to not have all the answers yet,” she continued. “And don’t let anyone talk you into something you don’t want to do. You can be too trusting sometimes, Albus Dumbledore.” 

He was relieved she had changed the subject, and gave her a chuckle.

“If you're not careful you’ll end up working for the Department of Magical Waste Disposal or something.” 

“Knight to H8.” 

Neither of them had said it. 

Gellert appeared suddenly behind Albus, several of his Slytherin friends just behind him. He threw his arms carelessly onto Albus’s shoulders, and looked over his head to the board. Albus’s knight galloped into position. 

“Check mate,” Gellert said.

It was Isobel’s time to swear. 

“Apologies, I couldn’t let Albus lose again when victory was so close.” 

She gave him a short smirk, and started to get up. 

“I'm late for Quidditch practice. I’ll see you back in the common room, Albus.”

“Goodbye.” It was one of Gellert’s Slytherin friends, Ravenna.

Albus looked up at her. She had pitch black hair, and a deathly paleness to her face. Albus had never really been close to Gellert’s other friends, and could only remember the names of a few of them. Ravenna gave off the air of being dissatisfied with everything around her, and she made no exception for Isobel and Albus. 

Isobel returned her look coldly, but said nothing. She grabbed her bookbag and strode quickly out of the hall. 

“Always in a rush, that one,” Ravenna said dryly. Albus ignored her. Gellert dropped down onto the bench beside him, leaning against the table. 

“Sorry to break up the game,” Gellert said.

“I would have lost if it weren’t for you.”

“You would have figured it out.” 

Albus smiled, and started to pack up his books. 

“So I’ve heard from those friends I was talking about…” He glanced at Ravenna and the others. She gave a huff, and began to walk away towards the Slytherin tables, the others following suit. 

“What’s with all the mystery Gellert?” Albus asked when they were a safe distance away.

“None at all, I just didn’t want to have them all eavesdropping.” 

Albus was happy to know that Gellert saved his most private confidences for him. 

“Look, they really want to meet you. Diagon Alley? Week after next? I’ll buy us some ices, we’ll make a day of it.” 

Albus loved watching Gellert’s face when he was begging Albus to do something. Gellert leaned in closer, and tugged again at Albus’s tie.

“What do you say?” He could smell Gellert’s warm breath on his face. 

“Alright,” Albus replied, giving in. 

“Perfect!” Gellert said, beaming. He looked back at the Slytherin tables. “Suppose I better join them. They’re a bit lost without me.” 

Albus laughed. 

***

As he made his way into the comforting, red glow of the Gryffindor common rooms, Albus noticed a group of students huddled excitedly in a corner of the room. They seemed to be tinkering over some device Albus could not see. 

“Alright, what is it?” he said, feigning disapproval. 

Albus had kept his role as prefect, despite technically no longer being a Hogwarts student. It had helped justify his free lodgings and position within the school. He tried to maintain an air of levity and openness as Gryffindor prefect, knowing that the other Gryffindors increasingly saw him as a teacher rather than a peer. He didn’t want to break up the fun whatever it was, but he also didn’t want to get in trouble himself.

“Elphias? What is it?” Albus asked one of the students in the group. 

The other students seemed to barely register his presence, entranced by the object before them. As he came closer, he peered over their heads to get a better look. 

It was clearly some mechanical contraption, placed upon one of the common room tables. But Albus couldn’t tell what it could possibly be used for. 

At the base was a carved, wooden box in a rectangular shape. Resting on top was a circular black disk, which on closer inspection seemed to have tiny grooves layered in rings about it. A needle on a stick was perched above the disk. Ballooning out from the side was a massive brass horn. Or at least that’s what it appeared to be to Albus. It curved outward into an impressive octagonal shape. 

Albus had never seen a more perplexing device. 

“It’s a gramophone!” Elphias said excitedly. “It cost a fortune, but I've been saving up. I can’t believe it's finally here!” The other students shared his excitement. Albus was skeptical, but intrigued. 

He saw Isobel appear from the stairs to the girl’s dormitory. Upon seeing them, she came over to peer at the strange apparatus as well. 

“Alright then, what does it do? Nothing dangerous I hope?” Albus asked, still mystified.

“Nothing of the sort!” Elphias reacted a bit defensively. “Watch!” 

Elphias pulled out his wand, and gave a quick flick towards the device. The black disk began to spin. Putting away his wand, Elphias carefully lifted the needle and placed it onto the disk. Within moments, the sound of music came blaring out of the brass horn, startling the amazed students. It was a jaunty ragtime tune, played by a band that was nowhere in sight. 

The other Gryffindors in the common room, who had been politely minding their own business, looked over in astonishment. Clearly no work was going to be completed that day. 

“Ingenious, Elphias!” Albus exclaimed. “How did you do it?! Are the instruments tucked inside the box?” 

“I didn’t make it!” Elphias said, taken aback. “Have you really never heard of a gramophone, Albus?” 

Albus felt ashamed to admit that he hadn’t, when the other students clearly had. 

“It’s muggle-made,” another boy said. 

“You’re joking,” Albus said with a laugh. 

“He’s not!” Elphias interjected. “It’s the latest muggle invention. I only used magic to power it up, since we don’t have access to any electricity here, unfortunately.” 

Albus was dumbfounded, and had no idea what ‘electricity’ meant. The others were less bewildered. 

The music was fast, and heart stirring. Several students had already begun clapping to the beat. Even a few of the more energetic portraits on the walls had joined in. It was not long before a few of the students broke into couples and began to dance to the tune. 

“The grooves of the disk are converted into sound waves,” Elphias explained to Albus, over the growing clamor of the common room. But before he could explain more, Albus was pulled away by a laughing Isobel into the throng of dancers. 

“Stop acting like an old fuddy-duddy, and dance with me!” she yelled at him. 

When she wanted to, Isobel could tear down all of Albus’s pretensions. He had no sense of what was happening, but just let himself be taken by her and the music. He put his arm around her waist, clasped her hand in his, and joined the rollicking jumble of Gryffindor students as they danced about the room. Everyone was laughing and grinning, as if they had just learned their exams had been canceled. 

One student threw all of the books and papers off of the nearest table, jumped on to it, and started to dance on the varnished wood. Albus could see ballerinas appear in the paintings about the room. Clearly word was spreading throughout the castle of the strange party in Gryffindor Tower. 

Albus locked eyes with Isobel, and they laughed together. He felt like a child. 

“What is the meaning of this!” Professor Dippet’s voice bellowed over the commotion. 

Everyone abruptly stopped, mid-twirl. Elphias quickly flicked his wand at the gramophone, which went silent. 

“Don’t you all have some studying to do?!” Professor Dippet tried to act stern, but he was no Headmaster Black. Everyone knew he was a softy. 

“Dumbledore, I’m counting on you to sort out these animals,” he said, politely ignoring the fact that Albus had been among them. 

“Yes, professor.” 

And with a quick nod of his head, Dippet strode away from the room. A few of the students giggled when he was gone, and the mood lightened, although they knew the party had ended. Students migrated towards the dormitories, or sat down on the couches and returned to their studying. 

Albus looked back at the strange muggle apparatus for a long time, and then headed up to his room.

Chapter Text

Ministry of Magic, 

underneath central London.

Miles adjusted his tie again, and then began to worry that he had chosen the wrong one, although all the options were practically the same Marie had told him, and indeed, he couldn’t really describe the difference between one and another. As he looked at himself in his office’s dusty mirror, he began to notice everything that was wrong about his appearance. He was not someone who typically worried about what he looked like day-to-day, but today he started to feel self-conscious about the bags under his eyes, and the lines of his forehead. He prided himself on his energy and ability, but this morning he felt like someone suddenly realizing his youth was behind him. His tie was definitely wrong. 

“Stop.” 

He turned to see that Marie had entered his office. She had two other tie options in her hands, and a disapproving look on her face. She was his age, and just as indomitable, if not more so. Her will could be fierce, and she had little time for self-doubting. Her dress never seemed to get ruffled, no matter the activity. 

“I know what you’re doing,” she said.

Somehow, Marie always had an uncanny ability to read his mind. She would have made a good legilimens. 

“You look fine. And I know I brought two other options, but I need you to know that all of these ties look exactly the same.” 

“Thank you, darling.”

He came up to her, kissing her softly as he pulled the dull red tie out of her hand. He quickly began undoing the one around his neck. She raised up her arms, exasperated. 

“I don’t know why,” he said, a bit exasperated with himself too. 

“You’ve faced all of these people before. You know that right?” 

“I know.” 

He was fumbling with it. She pulled out her wand and with a careless wave, tied it for him. 

“I don’t think their issue is your attire.” 

He chuckled, looking back at her. She came up to him, and put her arms around his shoulders.

“I am constantly amazed by you, you know,” she said, staring into his eyes. A smile grew on her lips. 

“This day is about more than me,” he said.

“I know, but it's also about you.” 

They stood there wrapped up in each other for a moment. Gwen’s voice from outside the door called them back to attention. 

“Ready in there?” 

“Yes,” Miles called back. 

***

When Miles Kay had first received his letter from Hogwarts and learned who he was, it was like an escape. He had grown up black in a white country, and it had left many a scar. The magical world was like a ticket to freedom. Magical folk scorned muggles for their many racial prejudices, and when he had held his first wand, Miles felt strong for the first time in his life. But then he learned that the new world would reject him for an altogether different reason. Yet another thing he couldn’t change. Suddenly, all the promise that the magical world had briefly offered evaporated. The universe had seemed especially cruel at that time, and during his first years at Hogwarts he had felt bitter and resentful. 

Over time, he made friends, and he grew hopeful in the comfort of others that had similar experiences. There was Marie, who, while she was pureblood, was also black, and knew some of what he was feeling. She had grown into an important support for him. It was she who encouraged him to pursue higher office, and start to pave the way for others.

He needed her by his side today. 

The great doors of the audience chamber lumbered open, and Miles took his first steps into the colossal room beyond. The ceiling was almost out of sight. The chamber was filled with the black robes of the other high ministers. Almost the entire Wizengamot was there. They had all been conversing casually with each other in their separate groups, but when Miles walked into the room everyone went quiet. Hundreds of eyes locked onto him, and watched as he made his way through the parting crowd. 

Marie, Gwen and Lucan walked in behind him. They tried to keep their heads high, and avoided making eye contact with any of the other ministers. Miles moved with a self-assured step, and tempered his nervousness. He walked right to the center of the chamber. 

In the middle of the room, a group of wary-looking ministers had gathered. A tall, pale man, with a snarling face was in front. He had long silvery blonde hair, exquisite robes and a black cane at his side. His dark eyes were like a viper’s, waiting to lunge on its prey. 

Miles walked boldly towards him without a pause. 

“Lord Viserius. I hope you are well.” He held out his hand to the tall, pale wizard. The man looked at his hand, and said nothing. 

They stood there in silence for an uncomfortably long time, the rest of the crowded room watching them. No one made a sound. No one seemed to breathe. Finally, Viserius reached out his hand and squeezed Miles’s in a quick motion. 

“Perfectly well,” Viserius replied, almost baring his teeth. He pulled a handkerchief out of his robes, and began wiping his hand. The entire hall watched on.

“I hope we can work together, Victor,” Miles said calmly. 

“I’m afraid I don’t see that happening, Miles,” Viserius replied. 

The chilling silence was broken by the sound of the chamber doors opening at the other end of the room. 

It was the Minister of Magic, Faris Spavin, trailed by his closest advisors, and a posse of reporters. In an instant, the hall was filled with sound again, as journalists tried to shout their questions at Spavin, and jostled each other for a closer position to the action.

“Ah, Undersecretary!” Spavin called out with a fervent wave, as he caught sight of Miles.

Faris Spavin was an energetic man, though getting on in years, with a fun-loving sensibility. While he had long been in office, he never lost his boyish charm, and he rejected the pomp of prior ministers. He gave the impression that, typically, he would rather be holding the meeting at a Quidditch match rather than the magisterial Ministry offices. Spavin didn’t understand why people couldn’t get along, and found most disagreements incomprehensible. He thought butterbeer was the ultimate panacea. 

“What a historic day, Kay!” 

Spavin barreled into Miles, taking his hand in his. The incoherent questions of the reporters grew louder. The minister turned to them, Miles’s hand still clasped in his and said loudly, “I am happy to welcome Undersecretary Kay to his first day on the job!” 

Miles was partially blinded by the snap of lightbulbs, as several cameras appeared out of nowhere and took photographs of them in quick succession. 

“Minister—” a cold voice said behind them. It was Viserius.

Spavin turned about roughly, a bit annoyed at the photoshoot being interrupted. 

“I was hoping to discuss some delicate matters with you about the upcoming celebrations planned for next year—” 

“Some other time, Victor,” Spavin said, cutting him off. “I’m quite busy today, as you can see.” 

“Of course, Minister, it’s just—” but Spavin was already walking past him, pulling Miles along by the arm. Miles couldn’t help but smirk as he brushed past Viserius. 

“Now Kay, I wanted to discuss that muggle task force you were talking about the other day…” Spavin began in an eager tone. The mass of reporters and ministers followed them out of the chamber. 

Viserius was left behind, his face contorting in rage. 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

The weather was just beginning to turn, and Albus could see his breath in the mornings. Silvery dew clung to the grass of the Quidditch field, before it was melted by the afternoon sun. The leaves of the forest were turning into rich yellows, oranges, and reds. He was trying to appreciate the small details about the castle, as he didn’t know what the next year would bring, and it was uncertain whether he would still be at Hogwarts. He was trying his best not to think about the future. 

He was just getting into Adalbert Waffling’s Magical Theory when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Professor Dippet. He seemed, to Albus at least, to be a bit uncomfortable. 

“Albus…your mother is here. She’s waiting for you in the second floor reception room.”

Dippet had spoken softly, to not be overheard by the other students in the study hall. Albus looked at him, trying not to show any of the emotions he was feeling. But Albus knew Dippet was not as unaware as he sometimes pretended to be. 

“Do you need anything from me?” 

“No—thank you, professor.” He slammed his book shut, got up from the table, and walked out of the study hall. 

***

Albus took a deep breath, as he clasped the iron latch of the door. Composing himself, he pushed it open. 

When she heard the creak of the door, Kendra Dumbledore raised herself from the plain wooden seat she had been waiting in, and smiled at him. 

“Albus.”

Kendra Dumbledore gave off an air of faded nobility. Her long dark dress was elegant and refined, but also showing signs of age. Her large brimmed hat, tilted fashionably on her head, was covered in flowers and feathers that had lost some of their color. She seemed much older than she was, and had gotten up from the chair rather slowly, as if it required some strength. Her eyes were kind, but held a weariness in them that was readily apparent to anyone that looked into them. Albus was not happy to see her. 

“Hello, mother,” he said, walking up to her and giving her a quick perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “Have you been waiting long?” 

“Not at all, Albus,” she said, in a polite manner. But hers wasn’t the only opinion. 

“It’s about time,” an irritable voice said behind him. Albus turned around to see Aberforth, sullen as always, leaning on the wall by the door. He must have walked right past him when he came in. 

“Aberforth.” Albus looked back at him uncomfortably. 

“Took your time on your way here, didn’t you? What? Were you afraid to see us?” Aberforth’s acerbic tone made Albus wince. 

“Aberforth, enough of that,” Kendra said sternly. She looked back at Albus, her expression changing. “Have you been remembering to eat, Albus? You look a bit thin.” 

“Yes, mother.” 

“We haven’t received a letter from you all summer,” she said, laughing weakly, as if it were a prank he had pulled. “We’ve been worried.” 

He could tell how hard she was trying. He felt embarrassed. 

“I… I’ve been occupied—my research, as you know,” he said rather pathetically.

“Too busy with your Slytherin friend,” Aberforth butted in. 

“Aberforth.” Kendra gave him a reprimanding look, and then turned back to Albus. “Albus, I’m not even sure why you're still here, you’ve already graduated…” She was trying to make light of it, but he could tell she was disappointed. And there was something else in her face that rattled him. He had resigned himself to her world-weariness long ago, but there was a twinge of desperation and uncertainty in her eyes that was new.

“I’m pursuing graduate research, mother. Remember?” He tried to make himself sound important. “I’m an assistant to Professor Dippet…I’m doing important work.” 

Aberforth gave a disbelieving scoff. 

“Of course,” Kendra said, looking at the floor. “I just…I wish you would come home, Albus.” 

“Mother…”

“I know—you have said what you are doing is important, and I believe you. I just …” He could see a chill go through her, as if a cold hand had touched the back of her neck. “Ariana… has become more difficult recently.” 

Neither of them knew quite what to say.

“Mother…I can’t—”

“—I’ll help you, mother,” Aberforth said proudly, as he pushed his way between them. He grasped her hand in his. “Let me come back home with you and Ariana.” 

Albus immediately jolted into action. 

“No, you won’t!” Albus grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, and pulled him away from her. 

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Aberforth said, raising his voice. Albus matched his tone. 

“Yes I can! You are going to stay here, finish your studies, and take your O.W.L.s at the end of the year.” 

“Boys, please,” Kendra said wearily. 

No one spoke for a moment. Aberforth and Albus locked eyes. 

“I’m not going to let you drop out of school, Aberforth.” 

“You think you’re such a savior, don’t you?” Aberforth’s voice was sharp as a knife. “I can see right through you.” 

Albus didn’t respond. 

“Aberforth, please,” Kendra pleaded again. 

Aberforth turned around and stormed out the door. It slammed behind him. They both waited in silence awkwardly for a few moments after he left. 

“Make peace with him. Please, Albus?” 

“I will try. If you don’t allow him to go back to Godric’s Hollow.” 

When he looked back at her, he could see how defeated she was, and how much energy it all took. She looked as if she had walked a great distance, carrying a large load. 

“I—am not as young as I once was, Albus.” Her voice was all desperation now. “Ariana’s fits—they’re starting to get worse. Bathilda’s been some help of course, but—”

“—Mother, you know how I feel about that woman.”

“I know, I know. But she’s practically the only friend I have left. Everyone else in Godric’s Hollow pretends we don’t exist. And really, after everything she has done for Gellert to keep him here it's a wonder how he treats her.” 

“I don’t want to get into all of that.” 

She let it drop. 

“Why don’t you bring Foggy back?” he asked. 

“Oh that little elf was never helpful. He was always in the way when she was in one of her moods.” 

They remained silent for a moment, trying not to look at each other. Albus desperately wanted the meeting to end. 

“She asks after you,” Kendra said.

He couldn’t look her in the eye. 

“Mother—I can’t help you.” 

It was definitive, and she clearly had no more cards to play. 

“I will write to you before the holiday,” he said briskly, as consolation.

He gave her another quick kiss and left. She watched him walk off, alone. 

Chapter Text

Diagon Alley, London.

The streets were packed with passerby—Sunday shoppers making their rounds, a few street performers with small audiences circling them, and excited children darting between legs. Though Hogwarts was the only place he ever felt truly at home, Albus was excited to get out of the castle. It seemed that since the start of the year, everyone had been looking at him differently. He dreaded their expecting eyes, and the way they tiptoed around their inquiries. He was happy to be away from it all, amidst the indifferent crowds of Diagon Alley.

And of course, there was Gellert.

He looked back at Albus, and gave him his winking smile. His hair was ever golden, despite the gray sky. Gellert looked unencumbered and entirely at home among the city streets. The cool air gave an alluring color to his cheeks. Being out of the castle clearly suited him . 

“Come, this way,” he called, pulling Albus by the lapel of his coat. 

Gellert bought him an ice cream. They ate them watching the crowds go by, licking their cones like idle schoolchildren. Albus could feel Gellert’s eyes on him. When Albus met his gaze, they were both a little taken aback by the intensity of it. Gellert pushed his cone into Albus’s nose, covering his face in chocolate. 

“Hey!” Albus laughed. 

After they had cleaned Albus's face, Gellert grabbed him by the hand. 

“Follow me,” he said. 

Albus let himself be carried away. Gellert’s hand was soft, like fruit skin. Albus felt himself becoming hot despite the coolness of the autumn day. 

They moved their way through packed streets, and came to a section of Diagon Alley that Albus had never been to before. 

“This way,” Gellert said, looking back with an eager smile. They turned down a shadowy, empty alleyway, with Albus towed along. The sound of the crowds died down in the distance, and all around Albus saw dark empty shops that seemed, from the outside at least, to be abandoned. 

“This is Knockturn Alley,” Albus observed. 

“And?” Gellert asked, “Not afraid are we, Albus?”

“Not at all,” Albus replied defensively. But he was becoming a little unnerved at this change of scenery. There was no one around but them. 

“Just down this end.” 

They made another right turn, and came into a cramped street passage. 

Albus yelled out.

At the other end of the passage was a man staring directly at them. He had long black, greasy hair that shaded his eyes. There was a devilish grin on his weathered face that was covered in scars and pockmarks. Albus could tell immediately that he was a werewolf. 

“Gellert!” 

“This way, Albus—come on,” Gellert said, untroubled. He pulled a completely helpless Albus along down the alleyway towards the werewolf. The passage was a dead end, the only way out was behind them. 

“Finally made it, Grindelwald,” the man said as they approached. His voice was deep and rasping, as if his vocal cords had suffered some injury. 

“Macnair,” Gellert responded. “We’re on time I believe.” 

The man didn’t reply, but looked curiously at Albus, who averted his gaze. 

“Well?” Gellert asked impatiently. 

“All in good time,” the werewolf replied, looking back at him. “And what about the other thing?”

“I have it with me,” Gellert said, patting his coat pocket. 

“Alright then.” 

The man pulled out his wand, and tapped the wall next to him. The stones of the wall immediately began to shift and separate. They slid over each other, reorganizing themselves until they formed the opening of a large tunnel. Albus could not see beyond the entrance, as it was impenetrably dark. The only thing he could make out was a few steps downward into the darkness. 

The man gave a quick nod of his head in the direction of the tunnel. 

“Gellert—wait…” Albus said, hesitant. “I’m not sure about this…” 

“Albus, don’t worry,” Gellert said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m right here with you.” 

Albus didn’t know how to protest, and followed him uneasily into the darkness. The man came up behind him. Albus could hear his rasping breath on his neck.

As they made their way down, the stones of the entrance slowly closed back in on themselves and cut out all of the light from the street. For a brief moment, they were in complete darkness. 

“Lumos,” Albus chanted, pulling out his wand. 

He threw a hand to his mouth. 

All around them were skulls. They covered both sides of the passage and the low ceiling above. 

They were in a catacomb. 

“Keep on moving,” the man commanded behind them. 

Albus cautiously continued on, following Gellert’s back in front of him. He grasped Gellert’s hand again tightly, as they made their way down the steep staircase. The empty eyes of the skulls looked on. 

Soon, Albus could see a faint light ahead of them, and the staircase started to level off. A musty, wet smell crept up to them, that reminded Albus of preserved animal parts. The sound of rushing water could be heard. At the bottom of the stairs, the passage let out into a short throughway. They reached the bottom of the staircase, and headed towards the light. The passageway suddenly ended. Beyond was a massive cavern. They stopped, and looked around them, astonished. 

The cavern seemed to be lit by some form of magic; the green glow that touched every surface did not resemble fire or sunlight. It gave off no warmth. Albus pulled his coat more tightly about him. Several waterfalls descended from tunnels above, and disappeared somewhere Albus could not see. The rocky floor crisscrossed murky pools like a spider’s web, and they had to be careful to avoid them as they made their way into the cavern.

Albus realized they were not alone. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” a voice echoed through the air. 

Suddenly, several figures emerged from crevices, and hidden doorways that Albus had not noticed. Most of them wore black robes, and dark suits. All of them stared at Albus. None of them seemed to be the one who had spoken.

Then, another figure emerged from behind the largest waterfall. He had pale hair, and a scar across his face, descending from his forehead to his cheek. 

“Welcome to our little hide away,” he said. His voice was cold as ice, and made Albus want to back away. Gellert held him fast. 

“It is an honor to finally meet you, Mordred,” Gellert said.

The tone of his voice shocked Albus. He had never seen Gellert like this before. He was never one to bow to authority. But all of a sudden, Gellert knelt on the ground, and lowered his head, as the pale man approached. Albus didn’t move. 

Mordred walked up to them slowly, and stopped just before the kneeling Gellert. 

“Well—Grindelwald?” Gellert looked up at him, and then reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

“Right from the desk of the headmaster,” Gellert said. 

The man took the parchment Gellert held out to him, gave it a quick glance, and then tucked it away in his jacket.

“Excellent, Grindelwald.” Mordred placed his hand on Gellert’s shoulder. “I knew you would be a useful asset. I’m glad I fought for you.” 

Then he looked at Albus. 

“And what do we have here? Albus Dumbledore, in the flesh?” 

“I brought him, as you asked,” Gellert said. 

“And you have done well.” 

Albus said nothing, and hadn’t moved a muscle since they had begun talking. Mordred looked at Albus for a long moment. His gaze was so penetrating that Albus felt like he could see right through his skin. 

“Apologies if we are a bit star-struck, Mr. Dumbledore,” he said politely. “We have just heard so much about you.” He started to walk closer to Albus, who took a reflexive step back. 

“No need to be suspicious of us, my friend,” he continued. “We’re all on the same side here.” He gestured to the others, and began circling Albus slowly, sizing up every angle. Gellert had gotten up from where he was kneeling, and watched them attentively. 

“How do you know what side I’m on?” Albus said, finally. 

“You’re on the good side, surely.” 

Albus didn’t know what he meant, and didn’t respond. He realized everyone in the cavern was looking at him. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“Apologies, I forgot formal introductions. My name is Mordred. I am a friend.”

The man was overly polite, but Albus was not reassured. 

"What is this place?" Albus asked.

"A sanctuary from the world above, and a mausoleum to fallen heroes, from ages long past." 

Albus didn't understand him, but pressed ahead. 

“What do you want with me?” 

“Why your help, of course.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Mordred simply smiled. 

“I see you are uninitiated. No matter. Let me fill you in.” 

Clasping his hands behind his back, he turned away from Albus and Gellert, and walked slowly back to the waterfall where he had entered. 

“Gentlemen, we are at war.”

His voice had become more assertive, and he was no longer speaking to Albus alone. Everyone in the cavern watched him as if he was starting a sermon. Neither Albus nor Gellert said a word.

“A war which has been raging for a long time. A war which you can no longer remain oblivious to.” 

Albus glanced at Gellert. He seemed entranced.

“What kind of war?” Albus asked skeptically. He tried to act confident and composed, but every aspect of the situation was unsettling him. Gellert seemed very far away. Mordred gave a soft patronizing chuckle at Albus’s question. It was all obvious to him. He locked eyes with Albus. 

“The war against the mudbloods.” 

Mordred’s voice dropped, and his tone became virulent. “We have been keeping them at bay for a long time—but the mudbloods are cunning. They have begun their take over. Even now they are approaching victory … soon they will begin a full-scale persecution of purebloods.”

“What do you mean?” Albus found himself saying. 

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed,” Mordred shot back derisively. “Their numbers have swelled in recent years. Soon they will overwhelm us.” 

“Muggle-borns have grown in proportion to the population only because muggles have,” Albus responded. He didn’t want to match Mordred’s anger. He spoke as if they were having an academic discussion. “The muggle population has doubled twice since—”

“—Exactly!” Mordred cut him off. “Soon the rats will be everywhere. Swarms of them. And there will be nowhere left to run.” 

Albus looked about him, everyone in the cavern was following Mordred’s every word. A few of them looked at Albus suspiciously. Mordred calmed himself again and continued. 

“We are an organization of like-minded individuals, committed to defending true witches and wizards,” he said solemnly. “But despite our labors and sacrifice, we are losing.” 

Mordred pulled out his wand and waved it at the waterfall behind him. The light in the cavern began to fluctuate, and Albus saw an image emerge, displayed on the falling water. At first it was hazy, but slowly it became clearer. Albus detected the bowler hat first. It was the Muggle-born wizard all the newspapers were talking about. The undersecretary. 

“Do you know who that mudblood is?” Mordred asked. 

“Only from what I have read in the Daily Prophet,” Albus replied rather weakly. 

“You cannot believe everything you read…” Mordred responded. “On the surface he acts like just another simple bureaucrat, but he is really much more than that.” 

Albus desperately wished Gellert would say something, but Gellert hadn’t said a word since Mordred began his speech. 

“He is the leader of a group of mudbloods, dedicated to the extermination of the pureblood order. They call themselves— the Knights. ” He laughed here, and a few others joined him. “We have been thwarting his plans for sometime, but we cannot hold on much longer.” 

“Why is that?” Albus asked, dubious.

Mordred waited to respond, and looked at him curiously for a moment. 

“We believe... we believe they are planning on unleashing…a weapon.” 

There was a long silence. Gellert was the first to speak. 

“What kind of weapon?” Gellert asked. His voice was eager, and had an element that Albus did not like. 

“We are unsure…but it must be some old magic—an ancient artifact. We believe it will be devastating.” 

He paused, and pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket, holding it up for them to see. It was clearly not the parchment he had taken from Gellert a moment earlier. Albus walked cautiously closer to get a better look. 

It looked to be a page that had been ripped out of an old book, but more than that, Albus had difficulty making out. It was covered in incoherent text and a few enigmatic drawings. There were old runes, dotted throughout the page, some ancient language that Albus didn’t understand. Bordering the entire page were intricate vines with grotesque creatures peeking out in parts. In the center there was a figure that looked like a medieval knight. He was surrounded by a circle, imposed in a triangle. Albus didn’t know what to make of it. 

“We picked this off one of them a few weeks back, it’s been our best lead thus far.” 

“I don’t understand,” Albus said.

“Neither do we. But from the way they talk about it in the messages we’ve intercepted, it is quite real—and powerful. A weapon which we would be defenseless against.” 

Albus could tell there was more he wasn’t saying. He looked at Mordred distrustfully. 

“We believe… that only a mudblood can use it.”

“What?!” Gellert asked, incredulous.

“Yes. Apparently the weapon will be useless to any pureblood.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Albus said. 

“We can’t afford to disbelieve it. Fortunately, we don’t think it's yet in their possession.” 

“What’s stopping them?” Gellert asked.

“We suspect that the weapon is hidden, and that it can only reveal itself at some appointed hour.” 

“Then we must get to it before they do,” Gellert said determinedly. Albus didn’t like where the meeting had gone, and wanted more than anything to leave the cavern. 

“If you are so afraid of this plot, why don’t you bring it to the Minister of Magic?” Albus asked them.

“Minister Spavin can no longer be trusted.” 

It was a voice neither of them had heard before, coming out of one of the tunnels that led into the cavern. Slowly, a tall white haired man walked into the light. He carried a black cane, with a silver hilt. 

“Lord Viserius!” Gellert blurted out, bowing his head respectively. Albus hadn’t recognized the man. His face was hard, but his voice was weary. 

“The Ministry is overrun. The only ones we can trust now are in this room,” he said.

He peered silently at Albus, who had regained his nerve.

“Even if what you say is true—what do you want from us? I don’t know anything about this weapon.”

Mordred and Viserius exchanged a careful look, and then Mordred continued. 

“We believe that the weapon is at Hogwarts.” 

Albus was stunned, but let him continue. 

“We cannot conduct a full search of the castle on our own—but you as students are in a perfect position to do so on our behalf,” Mordred said.

“If you cannot search Hogwarts, then neither can they, right?” Albus offered.

“Unless they already know where it is, and are just waiting for the right time.” 

“What is the right time?” Gellert asked. Mordred didn’t answer, but looked at Gellert, a little annoyed. 

Viserius broke the silence. 

“Next summer will be the seven hundredth anniversary of the birth of Merlin. There will be a great celebration at Hogwarts. The Minister of Magic will be there, as well as all the high ranking ministry officials—” 

“That is when we believe they will strike,” Mordred added. 

“We won't fail you,” Gellert said.

Albus backed away. It was all too much. 

“I’m not the person you're looking for,” he said quietly. 

“Albus!” Gellert called anxiously after him.

“But you’re the perfect person,” Mordred said, ignoring Gellert. “Who would doubt your commitment to the cause?” 

“What do you mean?” Albus was afraid of his words. 

“Because of your…family history. From a noble wizarding line.” Mordred was starting to walk slowly towards him. “We thought there would be no greater defender. There’s no more need to be ashamed here. Your father is a hero among us.” 

“What do you know about my father?!” Albus’s voice started to rise. Building quickly inside of him, he could feel rage. Mordred could see it. 

“We have had word from him,” Viserious said calmly. “From our contacts in Azkaban.” 

Albus was speechless. He had not spoken with his father since that day. 

“Do you want to know what he has said of you?” 

The only sound in the cavern was that of the rushing water. Everyone was looking at him again, expectant. 

“You know nothing about me.” 

He turned away from them all, and walked swiftly back the way he had come. He was finding it difficult to breathe, and his head was throbbing. When he found the stairs of the tunnel and he was out of sight, he began to run. He did not stop until he reached the street. 

***

Gellert found him bent over in the alleyway, holding onto the wall for support. He was heaving, and felt like he might throw up. 

“Albus, I’m sorry,” Gellert said contritely, putting a hand on Albus’s back. “I should have warned you what we were walking into—I know that was a lot.” 

“I’m alright,” Albus responded softly.

Gellert gave him a moment to catch his breath. Albus stood back up, still holding onto the wall. He couldn’t look at Gellert. When Gellert spoke, he was careful with his words.

“Albus…we have to do something about all this…”

“Then you should, Gellert.” Albus’s voice was weak and defeated. 

“I can’t do it without you.” 

“You can do anything you want, Gellert.” 

Gellert let Albus’s breath steady some more. 

“Albus… we never talk about your father.” 

Albus closed his eyes, and gripped the wall.

“Talk to me, Albus.” 

Gellert’s voice was caring and earnest. He squeezed Albus’s shoulder fondly, and Albus could hear Gellert's breath close behind him. Albus could feel tears forming in his eyes.

“It’s—it’s my fault.” His voice broke as it came out. 

“What?” Gellert asked. 

The tears started to trickle down his cheek. 

“My father’s trial was closed…so no one knew, but…”

“Albus, what are you saying?” 

“It was me. I—I testified against him.” 

Albus turned to him, the tears coming down more quickly now. Gellert’s face was unreadable. 

“Albus…you were a child—”

“—I’m the reason my father’s in Azkaban,” he choked out. “It’s my fault.”

“No, Albus,” Gellert said softly.

“It was me—it was—” 

Gellert pulled him into his chest, and Albus’s voice was lost in his shirt. His arms wrapped firmly around Albus’s back and held him there. He leaned his cheek down against Albus’s head. 

“It’s not your fault, Albus.”

They stood there together in the street, as Albus sobbed into his arms.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

When Albus emerged from the chimney with Gellert at his side, he felt as if he had just flown from London, and was ready to collapse. 

“Do you want me to walk you back to Gryffindor Tower?” Gellert offered.

“No, I think I’ll head back to Dippet’s office. I want to be alone for a moment.” 

“Are you sure I can’t join you?”

“No—thank you, Gellert. I’ll meet you later.” 

Albus began to walk away in the direction of Professor Dippet’s laboratory. Gellert called after him. 

“I’m going to form a group… I hope you’ll be a part of it.” 

Albus looked back, but didn’t reply. 

“We’ll be meeting in the Slytherin common rooms…the choice is yours, Albus.” 

He turned and walked away. 

Albus’s body felt weak, but he didn’t want to head back to the common room and wind up laying in bed alone with his thoughts. He needed a distraction from his mind. He was looking forward to being alone, and the opportunity to get lost in an experiment. But when he opened the door to Professor Dippet’s office, he was annoyed to learn it wasn’t empty. 

Isobel turned at the sound of the door and grinned. 

“Albus! You’re back!” 

She wasn’t alone. Leaning over a large table, peering at Albus’s latest experiment, was the man from all the newspapers. 

Albus recognized him before he was able to turn around. 

“You?!” he gasped. 

Neither of them seemed to hear him. He couldn’t see Professor Dippet anywhere. 

“Albus, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Isobel said excitedly, as she came up to him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room. “Here he is.”

“Albus Dumbledore,” Miles said as they came closer. “Glad we could finally meet, Isobel has told me so much about you.” 

Albus glared at Isobel, who blushed slightly. 

“My name is Miles Kay, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Albus interrupted him. 

“I guess my reputation precedes me.” He smiled. 

“What are you doing here?” Albus’s voice was sharp and defensive; both of them could detect it. Isobel gave him a gentle nudge. 

“Apologies,” Miles said, “I didn’t mean to disrupt any of your experiments. I had a meeting with the headmaster, and Isobel was kind enough to ask if I wanted to meet with you as well.” He kept on smiling as if he hadn’t registered Albus’s tone. Albus was finding it irritating. 

“The undersecretary has been talking with me about my internship,” Isobel added. “He’s been very supportive.” 

“I was hoping to be supportive of you as well,” Kay said, turning back to Albus. “I’ve read your paper, as well as your research on trans-species transfiguration. You certainly have a brilliant mind.” 

It was clear the undersecretary had done his homework. Not many people knew about his transfiguration research. 

“There’s been a bit of a frenzy amongst the departments, ever since Headmaster Black wrote that you might be interested in a Ministry position. I thought I would drop down to Hogwarts to get ahead of the competition.” 

“What do you want from me?” Albus couldn’t help but sound annoyed. He had hoped to come here to rest, and now he felt bombarded. The second time that day. 

“I’m putting together a task force of some elite witches and wizards. We are hoping to create better engagement between the muggle and wizarding worlds.” 

“What makes you think I would be interested in such a thing?” 

“Albus, you’re being a bit rude,” Isobel said quietly. 

“It’s alright,” Kay assured politely. “I understand you’re skeptical. The task force would be considered the frontlines of muggle defense, charged with important missions. We would report directly to the Minister of Magic himself. It would be an impressive mark on your resume.” 

The undersecretary clearly thought he had him. Albus was quick to disabuse him of the assumption. 

“Is it true that you're the leader of a terrorist organization called the ‘Knights’?” Albus asked. 

The tone of the conversation had decisively changed.

“Albus!” Isobel exclaimed.

Miles looked more amused than shocked.

“ ‘The Knights of Merlin’ is a peaceful organization dedicated to the uplift of Muggle-borns, and the protection of muggles.”

“So you admit that it exists?” Albus continued. He was becoming visibly more agitated, but Miles did not seem to be rattled. Isobel clearly was. 

“It does. But we’re no terrorists. Who told you that?” 

Albus ignored the question.

“What about pure-blooded witches and wizards?” Albus asked. 

“What about them?”

“What about their rights?” 

Miles didn’t respond for a moment, but just looked at Albus curiously. 

“What about their rights?” Kay repeated back to him. 

There was an uncomfortable silence. Albus had locked eyes with the undersecretary. 

“Why me?!” He was almost yelling now. The rage and frustration that had been building up in him all day was coming to the surface. “There must be hundreds of muggle-born wizards that would be happy to be part of your little project. Why me?!”

Miles scrutinized him. Isobel’s face was horrified and confused. This was not how things were supposed to go. 

“I thought it would be an opportunity for you to change your reputation,” Miles said with a calm expression. 

“What do you mean?!”

Kay’s voice became very quiet. 

“After everything with your family…your father…It would be a way for you to prove that you are …unprejudiced. You’d be a valuable asset to the team.”

Albus could barely contain his anger. His skin felt like it was burning; his body was so hot he could almost faint. He could tell his emotions were plainly visible for them both to see. 

Suddenly, he turned about and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Isobel caught up with him in the hall. 

“Albus!” 

He didn’t turn. 

“Albus! What was that?!” 

“You didn’t tell me you were close with him.” 

“I’m not! We just spoke twice and he said he wanted to meet with you,” she yelled desperately as she came up to him. 

“Albus!” She grabbed hold of his shoulder, pulling him around. “What’s the matter with you?!” 

“I’m not going to be the poster boy for his little experiment,” he yelled at her. 

“Albus, wait!” 

He was already halfway down the hall, and she didn’t have the heart to follow him.

Albus made his way to the dungeons and found the entrance to the Slytherin common room. 

“Guillotine,” he said. 

The black stone snake shifted to reveal the doors. They swung open, and he walked confidently inside. 

Gellert was there, sitting on top of a couch. He was fervently talking to his usual group of friends in a hushed voice. When one of them caught sight of Albus, they all turned around to look at him. 

“I’m in.” 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

The first order of business was finding a place where they could meet without arousing suspicion. A need which Albus was more than ready to supply. 

“Brilliant, Albus!” Gellert exclaimed. “You always have something up your sleeve, don’t you?” 

As they walked into the Room of Requirement, it transformed before their eyes. Bookcases emerged from the floor, and large tables and benches made of stone. A grand fireplace pressed out from the wall and flames immediately burst into life. On one wall, an aerial-view map of the castle appeared. 

“Perfect!” Gellert looked about the room, clearly impressed.

“How long have you known this little secret?” Ravenna asked suspiciously. 

“I came across it one day in my fifth year, when I was looking for a quiet place to study,” Albus replied, just as distrustful. “The room always conforms to the specific needs of its users. It’s the perfect home base.” 

The group walked in cautiously, and surveyed the room. The large doors locked firmly behind them. 

“No one will be able to find us in here.” 

Gellert looked back at him, smiling. 

“Alright,” Gellert began. “We all know why we're here. Everyone is counting on us. But if we’re going to do this we need to swear to absolute secrecy. No one outside of this room can know what we are getting up to.” 

Everyone eyed each other silently. Albus was not usually around any of Gellert’s other friends for long. They seemed to like it that way too.

There was Ravenna Nott. Dark hair, and beautiful, but ice cold and disdainful. She could be especially vengeful. She had once stabbed a second-year with her quill after he accidently took some of her ink. 

Noxius Crabbe, a large and rather brutal boy, who had supposedly broken the arm of a Hufflepuff wizard in his first year. 

Livia Carrow, a sullen witch, who never really spoke, but who always gave passerby menacing stares, as if she had a vendetta against every student in the school. 

There was the haughty and imperial, Corvus Lestrange, who didn’t even believe half of Slytherin house was of sufficient blood purity to speak with. 

And finally Griffin Greengrass, a slightly introverted, quiet boy, who enjoyed staying in the dormitory, and conducting disturbing experiments on small animals. 

Not all of them were from Slytherin House, though they all gave off the air of it. Griffin and Livia were both from Ravenclaw, and Albus was a Gryffindor of course. Gellert had always said the house divisions were ridiculous, and prided himself on friendships from other houses, though Albus never quite knew how close he really was to any of them. He never talked about them with Albus. They never lasted very long anyway, his other friends. Gellert got rid of them quickly. Only Albus had remained throughout the years. This just happened to be the latest set. 

The distrust between them and Albus was palpable. Their shared gravitation towards Grindelwald was perhaps their only common interest. 

“And how are we supposed to trust the teacher’s pet over here,” Ravenna asked, giving a nod in Albus’s direction. “School prefect—head boy. Isn’t that right? Not really one for breaking the rules.” 

“You can trust Albus as much as you can me,” Gellert said defensively. “He’s an integral part of the team.” 

Gellert looked back at Albus, giving him an encouraging nod. 

“No one here knows as much about the castle as Albus does. He’s also one of the most capable wizards I know. We’ll need his knowledge if we stand any chance against the Knights.” 

Gellert jumped up onto the nearest table, and looked down upon them like he was whipping them up into a protest. 

“We’ll meet here after classes every day, and create a plan of action. We’ll search the castle by night and train by day.”

“Train?” Corvus asked.

“Yes, Lestrange. We need to be ready to face the enemy if they get to the weapon before we do.”

“How exactly are we going to do that?” 

“Albus will teach us,” Gellert said, without skipping a beat.

Ravenna and Corvus laughed, and Albus too was taken aback. The others were clearly not enthusiastic about the idea as well. 

“I’m not sure what he could teach me,” Corvus said skeptically. 

“We could all learn from Albus,” Gellert shot back. He was sure of himself and commanding. When Gellert needed to, he could convince anyone to do anything. It was one of his many talents. 

“Albus will give us lessons in offensive charms and spells after classes every day.” 

Albus didn’t know what to say, but just looked awkwardly at the floor. Gellert hadn’t shared any of his plans with him. 

“In our free time we will scour every inch of the castle, from top to bottom. Anything we learn we bring back here. I will act as a liaison with Mordred, and keep the others updated with our progress. When we're not searching for the weapon, we’ll be training.” 

“So what are we to call this little club,” Ravenna asked, chiding him. 

“It’s not a club,” Gellert said, looking down at her. “It’s the beginnings of an army.” 

Corvus laughed. Everything felt very pretend, but Albus could tell Gellert was serious.

“Grindelwald’s Army?” she shot back, giving him a challenging glare. 

He smiled at her, and then turned back to Albus.

“Dumbledore’s Army.” 

***

And so the hunt for the Weapon of the Muggleborns began. 

They started on the lowest levels of the castle, combing the dungeons, kitchens, and hidden foundations. From there they moved upwards, searching the middle levels, classrooms, hallways and dormitories, and ended up in each of the massive towers of the castle. 

Hogwarts has seven stories, one hundred and forty-two staircases, and an indeterminate number of rooms, as some classrooms and chambers appear and reappear at different times of the day and the year. 

Because of Albus’s privileged status as both a prefect and teacher’s assistant, no part of the castle was off limits. They searched each of the four House dormitories, and the faculty and staff areas which were typically forbidden to students. 

They became adept at charms designed to reveal hidden enchantments and magical objects, though everywhere their search seemed to come up with dead ends. Several days a week they would conduct night searches, to examine rooms unimpeded by the usual crowds of students in the daytime. Albus’s impeccable knowledge of the castle guided their hunt, helping them access places in the school none of them had ever even known about. 

In the afternoons, after their last classes had finished, they would gather in the Room of Requirement for combat lessons. In their time at Hogwarts, both Albus and Gellert had done an impressive amount of outside research, pursuing their own interests, and both of them knew a considerable amount about the dark arts. Albus ran drills each day covering the most advanced offensive spells and charms. They would take turns, practicing on each other. Gellert commanded them to not hold back and, at times, they drew blood. 

Crabbe in particular was eager to hurt, and seemed to use every lesson to get back at some perceived slight. Albus was the only one he couldn’t get the edge on, even when he cheated, and attacked before the mark. 

Livia rose to the challenge particularly well. Despite her typical aloofness, she clearly heard every word everyone said. She excelled in going on the offensive, her quick and agile hand movements meant her wand could be lethal, and she rarely slipped up, unlike the clumsy Crabbe and the overconfident Lestrange. 

While their combat training excelled, their search for the weapon lagged. 

Mordred had created a copy of the illuminated manuscript page he had taken from the Knights. Albus and Gellert had poured over the page countless times, unable to make sense of it. It was clearly a page that had been ripped out of a very old book, but it did not seem to match anything that Albus had ever read in the Hogwarts library. The page was boarded with intricate marginalia. Twisting, curving designs with small fairies, curving dragons, and indescribable creatures. Several half-humans, like centaurs and minotaurs leapt out of the margins. The text was indecipherable, an ancient runic language that Albus had never encountered. He had now spent hours upon hours in the library combing through every book on ancient languages and magical runes, but had come to nothing. 

“This symbol,” Gellert said, pointing at the figure at the center of the page with the circle and triangle superimposed on it. The body of the knight created a line down the middle. He lowered his voice, so only Albus could hear. “Doesn’t it…do you think—the Hallows?”

“No,” Albus responded. “I’ve thought about it, but the Hallows have definitely been handled by pureblood wizards, it doesn’t fit.” 

Albus looked more closely at the figure in the center of the page. 

“Look at how he’s holding his wand here though, with both hands, at the center of his chest. Maybe it's some kind of key.”

“We’re grasping at straws here, Albus.” 

Gellert’s initial excitement and energy were starting to deplete as the weeks wore on, and the search turned up fruitless. At first, Albus was overjoyed to be spending so much time with him. They had a shared purpose that had electrified them both, and Albus awoke with a smile on his face, knowing he would see Gellert. It felt like the old days, when it was just the two of them. When they had first learned about the Hallows. But Gellert was becoming more irritated each day that passed that they did not make progress. Things were not moving as quickly as he desired. Albus hated to see him so morose. 

“There is one thing we could try…” Albus offered. 

Gellert gave him an hopeful look, ready to try anything. 

***

“It’s called the Mirror of Erised. I discovered it last year.” 

Albus watched Gellert walk up to the mirror slowly, examining the gilt outer rim. They were in an empty chamber, deep underneath the castle. It was completely bare except for the large mirror. They gazed into its corroded glass. 

“It shows you what you most desire,” Albus said softly. “Perhaps we could use it to discover where the weapon is hidden?” 

Gellert looked back at Albus with a tremendous grin on his face. 

“You are truly extraordinary, Albus.” 

Albus's face reddened and he looked away. Gellert peered into the mirror, eagerly. He took a step back and centered himself. 

It was some moments before Gellert saw anything but his own reflection, but then figures started to appear. He saw Mordred emerge at his right shoulder. Gellert looked behind him, but Mordred was only in the reflection in the mirror. Viserius appeared on his left. After looking at him for a moment, both of them lowered their heads in supplication. 

Gellert became frustrated, and turned away from the mirror angrily. 

“Come Albus, you try.” 

He dragged Albus over by the arm, and brought him next to him in front of the mirror. “What do you see?” 

Albus looked into the mirror for a moment, but nothing happened. It was just him and Gellert, their reflections staring back at them. It seemed like it was just another mirror. Then he noticed it. In the reflection, Gellert’s hand was clenching his. He looked up at Gellert’s face. In the mirror it looked tranquil, unbothered, as if he were about to laugh at something innocently. But when Albus turned and looked at Gellert beside him, his eyes were frantic and searching. He noticed his hair was unwashed, and his clothes were unkempt. The real Gellert was not the same as the one in the mirror. 

“What do you see, Albus?” 

“I’m shaking hands with the Minister of Magic. It’s not working.”

Gellert swore, and strode quickly away. 

Albus looked back at the mirror for a moment, and then picked up the white sheet that had been laying on the floor. He threw it over the mirror, hiding the reflection from view. 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

Late Autumn.

The trees of the forest were almost entirely bare when they at last made their breakthrough. 

“Gellert! Gellert!” Albus called excitedly, as he entered the Room of Requirement. Gellert had been analyzing some manuscripts with Griffin, the only other member of the club who was any good at the research side of things.  

“What is it, Albus?!”

“I think I’ve deciphered the runes!” 

Albus had an electrified energy, and an almost crazed look about him, but his smile was wide. He threw a large book onto the table with the illuminated page on top. 

“You know how I’ve set up a correspondence with Nicholas Flamel?”

“Sure,” Gellert said. Griffin’s shocked look suggested he did not. 

“Well I mentioned off-handedly in one of my letters that I was studying an ancient language that I couldn't find any reference to, and he sent me this.” 

Albus picked up the large old tome he had brought, and brandished it like a Christmas present. 

“It's a compendium of some ancient lost languages. I was able to find a reference to the runes on the page!” 

“Brilliant, Albus!” Gellert exclaimed, grasping Albus by his shoulders excitedly. “What were you able to discover?!” 

“Well, it's not nice clear instructions to a magical weapon like we had hoped. And it doesn’t mention any specific location in Hogwarts unfortunately. To be honest, it’s a little incoherent.” 

Gellert and Griffin both looked at the illuminated manuscript, as Albus flipped eagerly through the book, finding the page on the dead language. His scribbling notes were tucked into the crease of the book. 

“It seems like the language was once used by muggles and magical folk during the First Age of Magic. Really ancient stuff.” Albus found the place he had been translating on the manuscript page. 

“There’s lots of references to nature and water. This word here,” Albus said, pointing, “It means ‘woman’ or ‘lady’, but maybe also something like ‘princess’ in the sense of the time. And then this word I realized means ‘maze’ or ‘labyrinth’.”  He looked back up at their lost faces. 

“I’ve been thinking—some of this stuff…it’s so old it might predate the creation of Hogwarts. I think we should expand our search. Start surveying the grounds, the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake… the weapon might be older than the castle itself.” 

As the others had next to no leads, and some of them were down right useless—Crabbe especially—there were no objections to Albus’s plan of action. 

Daily forays into the Forbidden Forest were made, and several grottos along the shores of the Black Lake were found. Albus and Gellert explored each of the hidden passageways into the castle, and examined places where the foundations were exposed. 

“There’s a book I think we might use,” Albus told Gellert one day, while they were exploring the Forbidden Forest. 

“I hadn’t thought about it before, but given what I am learning from the translations… I think it might be useful,” he said, “It's about the First Age of Magic.” 

A commotion coming out of the brush to their left startled them. They instinctively came closer together. It was getting close to sundown, and the light was fading in the trees. It seemed to be nothing more than a small animal. Then suddenly, in the distance they could hear the sound of hooves, and the calls of men. Far into the deep red shadow of the undergrowth, they could see the movement of many animals. 

“Centaurs,” Albus observed. 

“Damn half-breeds,” Gellert spat. 

He shook himself like he was getting an insect off his back. Albus could sense Gellert’s anxiety. He was always so in control, but recently Albus has noticed a kind of tenseness in his shoulders. Almost like his body had an itch he couldn’t quite get rid of. Gellert started to turn around. He was done with the forest.

As they made their way back to the castle, a small movement caught Albus’s eye. He turned, and then far to the right through the tree trunks he saw him. A centaur was watching them. His stoic, hard face betrayed no emotion, but there was an understanding in his grey eyes. He looked right at Albus, and seemed to peer deep into him. Before Albus could say anything, the centaur turned and trotted away. 

Gellert hadn’t seen the creature, and was now several paces ahead of Albus. Given his reaction earlier, Albus decided it best not to mention it to Gellert, but as they made their way back, Albus thought long of the centaur.

“Let’s head right to the library when we get back,” Gellert said, once the castle came into view.

“There’s just one issue—” 

Gellert looked back at him questioningly. 

“It’s in the Headmaster’s office.” 

***

Albus had been given access to the private library in his final year, when he first began his research on dragon’s blood, and Headmaster Black realized he had exhausted the capabilities of the Hogwarts Library. It was accessed via a secret passageway through a wardrobe behind the headmaster’s desk, and Albus had made a note to memorize the incantation Black had used to open it. 

They waited until Black left Hogwarts for business at the Ministry one weekend, and entered the office under the cover of night. Fortunately, the many portraits that filled the room were all soundly asleep. Crouching low, Albus and Gellert crossed the office floor, passing the large desk, and found the wardrobe on the other side. Barely above a whisper, Albus incanted the charm, and the wardrobe slowly shifted open.

They slipped quietly inside, pulling the wardrobe back so it was just barely ajar. Floating candles started to light themselves when they entered, and meandered over to them to guide the way. The library was not large, only consisting of a few rows, but it contained some of the most precious tomes in Hogwarts. Sometimes, the headmaster would rotate books in from the main library that he simply wanted on hand for whatever task he was doing. But some of the books were so important, or so dangerous, that they could not even be kept in the restricted section, which Albus had ready access to. When Black had allowed him into the private library, Albus had made sure to extend his visit as long as possible, so he could explore every last inch. 

“This way,” Albus whispered, waving to Gellert.

The book was exactly on the shelf he remembered. He could see its worn brown binding in the soft flickering light of the candle floating by him. The title was written in faded gold.

Remembrances of the First Age of Magic, no author. 

Looking more closely at the binding he could see a gilt figure laid into the leather. It looked to be a man in armor. 

“Is this it?” Gellert said excitedly behind him. 

“Yes.” 

He pulled the book from the shelf, flipping it open to the title page. The title was written twice; once in English, and once in a runic text. Albus recognized immediately the runes from the manuscript. They were an exact match. 

He yelped excitedly. He was happy this quest involved so many books.

Suddenly, they heard a loud cough, and what sounded like shifting furniture from the office beyond the wardrobe. 

Albus snuffed out the candles with a quick wave of his wand. Then, before he could move, Gellert threw his body against his, and pressed them both into the bookcase behind Albus. His back and shoulders hit the shelf behind him, and he could feel the spines of books on his own. Gellert’s hand clamped over Albus’s mouth. The smell of his fingers filled Albus’s nostrils.

They waited. 

Gellert’s calm heart beat against his chest, and Albus could feel his breath on his cheeks. His face must have been inches away from Albus’s. He didn’t think he had ever been this physically close to Gellert before. His body started to get warm. He was worried Gellert would notice his own heart beating faster. They stood there in the darkness, listening. 

“I think it was just a portrait,” Gellert said calmly. But he didn’t move. They stood there in silence for a long moment, until at last Gellert pulled away. Albus lit the closest candle to them. In the light of the flame, Albus could see Gellert looking at him. He looked confused. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. 

***

In his first year at Hogwarts, Albus had few friends, and spent his time exploring the castle alone. He discovered its many nooks and crannies, secret places he could tell none had entered for years. They were all his own. Like little treasures he could hide away.

His only companions had been books, and when he wasn’t exploring he was reading. He filled up the time with words. By the end of the year, when his teachers were starting to praise him for his knowledge, it had come as a surprise. To be noticed had never been the intention. 

In certain ways, their search for the weapon reminded him of that time. But now he was not alone, there were others. There was Gellert.

Though the season had turned colder, Albus appreciated the breeze that wafted through the astronomy tower. He was sitting alone on the floor, his books and notes spread out around him, with small paperweights in place to keep them from flying away. The tower had openings all around that let the wind rush through. Looking out across the Black Lake, he appreciated the serenity of the tower. Classes were always held at night, so no one was around during the daytime. A stack of brooms were laid in one corner; Professor Tolemus liked to conduct his astronomy classes from the air if it was a clear night. 

Albus didn’t like working in Professor Dippet’s office anymore, as it reminded him of all the work he was behind on, and he didn’t want to go back to the Room of Requirement either. It was becoming next to impossible to read and translate with all of them watching. Gellert especially. 

While it was clear that Remembrances of the First Age of Magic was created at about the same time as Mordred’s manuscript, the book did not immediately create any leads. It was a compendium of tales and memories from a time before the creation of Hogwarts, and the establishment of the International Statute of Secrecy. Every day, Gellert would ask for an update, leaning over Albus’s shoulder as he read, but he was frequently disappointed. Albus was finding it frustrating as well, though he didn’t show it.  

And then there was the moment in the headmaster’s library. Albus couldn’t get it out of his mind. He clung on to the memory, as if it would slip away in the breeze. Gellert’s body pressed against his, the smell of Gellert’s hand over his mouth. The look he had given him in the light of the candle. Albus knew there was a pensieve in the headmaster’s office. He wanted to pour his memories into it, and live them again and again. Even just to feel the smallest touch. 

A voice brought him out of his reverie. 

“So this is where you’ve got to,” Gellert said, coming up the tower steps. 

“Needed more room to think,” Albus said quickly. 

“Not enough room in the Room of Requirement?” Gellert asked with a smile. “I kind of thought that was its purpose.” 

Albus gave a quick smile, and then looked away through the large portal that led outside. The afternoon light was hitting the Black Lake perfectly in the distance. He could see the long line of the coast, the small islands off-shore, and the wooded hills stretching into the horizon. 

“You have to have learned something by now,” Gellert said, coming closer. 

Albus sighed.

“It's just a collection of old fairy tales and stories. It's hard to tell the difference between history and fantasy. I’ve read a lot about some war between wizards at the end of the First Age of Magic, but nothing that mentions the type of weapon we are looking for, or any place in Hogwarts.” 

Albus knew sometimes research took patience and time, and breakthroughs didn’t happen every day. He could appreciate the journey. But he was also starting to feel like he was letting everyone down, especially Gellert. He looked down at his latest notes. 

“It seems like time magic was a little more prevalent during the First Age. Mordred did mention that they felt like the weapon would only be revealed at a set time.” 

“You’re saying we need to predict the future?” Gellert asked, a bit abrasively. “Do you know any divination?”

“Modern divination is pseudo-magic, and notoriously unreliable. Only the centaurs are any good at it, and they rely on the stars.” 

Albus looked back out at the sky. The clouds blended with the mountains of the valley, sunlight ricocheting off of them. He wished he could share the view with Gellert, but when he looked back at him, his eyes were despondent. Albus didn’t know what else to say. 

“Gellert…” he started, trying to change the subject. “Maybe we should go for a walk or something—”

“Some other time,” Gellert said quickly. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

He walked away, and headed back down the tower steps. 

Chapter Text

Hogsmeade.

It was the first snow of winter, and Gellert could see his breath flitter away among the snowflakes. He was lost in thought, and barely noticed the merry passerby, going about their Christmas shopping. 

In his hands he twirled the pendant of a necklace that hung around his neck. It was a diamond of silver filigree, with a small red vial at its center. He peered into the deep red of the vial, and brushed it with his thumb. He could almost see his reflection on the surface. He typically kept the necklace in his trunk in the dormitory, but recently the desire to pull it out and wear it had come over him. He wasn’t sure why. He tucked it back into his shirt, and felt the cold silver against his chest.

The search was not going as planned. All the momentum and charisma he had at the beginning was seriously sapped by the lack of progress. The others were becoming glum as well. None more than Ravenna, who made scornful remarks whenever she saw him. 

“When are we going to lose the teacher’s pet, Gellert?”

But Albus was essential. They wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without him, Gellert knew. And then there was that moment in the library…

The sound of growling broke his train of thought. It was a rottweiler baring its teeth at him from the other side of the street. Its bloodshot eyes were staring directly at him. Its mouth, frothing.

Then, all of a sudden, it stopped and turned around, disappearing into the alleyway behind it.

Gellert looked about him. The snow-filled street had cleared somewhat, and no one else seemed to have noticed the animal. He crossed the street and entered the alley that the dog had gone down. The snow was higher here, untrammeled by the crowds. The dog was waiting calmly by a collapsed shed. When Gellert approached, the animal transformed into a man. 

He was a bit grungy looking, and his clothes were torn at places. He peered at Gellert with suspicion.

“Rufus,” Gellert said with a nod. He was growing weary of being so gracious. 

“How goes the search?” 

The man’s tone was gruff and impatient. It was clear he didn’t want to be there long. Neither did Gellert.

“We’re hitting a dead end. We’ve searched every inch of the castle, twice.” 

Rufus grumbled. It sounded like he was still a dog. 

“We’ve begun searching the grounds. Albus thinks it might not be in the castle itself.” 

Rufus perked up at hearing this. Gellert pretended not to notice. He changed tack. 

“We need more information. We’re going into this blind and we’re wasting time. There’s more you’re not telling us.”

Rufus stayed silent for a moment, sizing Gellert up. 

“Dumbledore,” he said.

“What?”

“He’s the key.”

“What’s Albus got to do with anything?” Gellert asked. 

“The mudbloods have mentioned him several times,” Rufus explained carefully, “in the communications we’ve intercepted. He has some connection to the weapon we don’t yet understand.”

“Albus doesn’t know anything more than me.” Gellert was becoming defensive. “If he did he would share it.” 

Rufus studied Gellert calmly, taking in his reaction. It seemed like he was looking for something. 

“Just sharing what we know,” he said, as he held up his empty hands. 

Gellert turned to go. He was annoyed at how frustrated he was getting.

“Oh, and one more thing…”

Gellert turned.

“The mudbloods use some kind of codeword when they refer to the weapon. We don’t think it has any special significance, but still…”

“Yes?” Gellert asked.

“They call it ‘the phoenix’.”

***

Hogwarts.

Albus had been feeling ill the entire week. There was a persistent pain in his stomach that wouldn’t go away, no matter what he did. He had tried several curative potions but they didn’t seem to have the proper effect. He knew it was all in his mind, but he wouldn’t accept it until he exhausted every option. The long weeks of magical training, and the search that seemed to offer no results had worn him down. 

Ever since the night in the library, Gellert had grown more distant and mysterious with him. They no longer had their private talks. Now Gellert would only meet him in the Room of Requirement with the others. He only ever asked about how Albus’s translations were going. Albus didn’t know what to tell him. 

The Room of Requirement itself had become stifling, and Albus couldn’t think in there with the others watching him. He had been spending more of his time in the astronomy tower, alone.  It was easier to think in the bright open air. He could study up there for hours alone. 

It was getting late, and he decided to pack it in for the day. He needed to return some books to the Room of Requirement before heading to bed. He was coming down the moving staircase from the third to the second floor when Isobel caught up with him. He had been so lost in thought that she had to call him twice.

“Albus!” 

He flipped around to see her coming from the top of the staircase. He groaned softly. The look on her face was not pleasant.

“Albus, where have you been?! I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. Professor Dippet just told me you skipped three classes last week!” Isobel was frightening when she was mad, but Albus could tell there was more concern than anger in her voice. 

“I’ve been busy—my paper and everything,” he mumbled. 

“That's it?!” she said in disbelief. 

He shrugged weakly, and started to turn away from her. 

“Oh what?! Now I get the cold shoulder too? Like your family?” 

Rage swelled quickly in his stomach. 

“Don’t, Isobel!”

“Albus! Everyone is worried about you!” 

“Well they should stop!” He almost screamed it. A few students on the adjacent stairwell looked over at them. Isobel could tell she had come off too strong and softened her approach. 

“I just don’t want you to isolate yourself, Albus.”

“I’m not isolating myself.”

He saw that she was deciding whether or not to continue. There was much he knew she wanted to say. He could see her mind working. She almost decided against it, but his defiant eyes provoked her. 

“You shouldn’t spend all your time with Gellert. He’s not a good friend to you.” 

“You don’t know what’s good for me, Isobel.” 

She seemed almost afraid of the words she was saying. But she went for it. 

“Albus—he’s not going to give you what you’re looking for.” 

Albus’s mouth suddenly felt very dry, and his stomach contracted. He couldn’t look away from her eyes. He hated what he saw there.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” he managed to say. 

“Yes you do.” 

He felt his heart beating fast, and the odd sensation of being both hot and cold at the same time. He wanted to rip his skin right off. Struggling for a response, he found something to throw at her. He knew he was about to do something vile, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’m sorry if you’re jealous, Isobel. But it isn’t Gellert. I just don’t feel that way about you.”

The look in her eyes changed rapidly. Suddenly, she raised her hand, and slapped Albus hard across the face. Before he could say another word, she turned about, and marched back up the staircase, which had just moved to the opposing hallway. Albus put a hand to his face and felt the sting.

As he made his way back to the Room of Requirement, Albus grappled with a mixture of shame and exhaustion. 

The memory of Isobel’s words was fresh on his cheek. She had spoken the truth that they never spoke of. Putting into words things Albus wasn’t ready to say. It was like she had ripped his clothes from his body, and left him there on the stairwell. And so he did something he knew was wrong. They had both left wounded. Holding his hand to his cheek, he knew he deserved it. 

When he entered the Room of Requirement he looked for the nearest empty chair, ready to collapse into it. But something stopped him before he could make it there.

First he heard the sound of a roar, like an animal, and then he saw the others were moving about in a commotion. Initially he thought they were in danger. He dropped his books on the table and got his wand ready, but then he heard several of them laughing. They were all in a circle at the other end of the room, looking at something moving on the floor. 

“What’s going on?!”

Ravenna turned and gave him an irked look. 

“We got bored.”

“We realized you weren’t teaching us everything,” Corvus added. “So we're taking over lessons today.”

As Albus approached, he saw it. At the center of the circle was a lion. He didn’t know how they had gotten it, but it was real, and alive. It was a male, with a large red mane framing a powerful face. The animal was pacing about fretfully. Every few moments he gave a loud roar to intimidate them, and swiped a claw at whoever was closest, but it was clear to all that the animal was the one that was afraid. Albus saw Gellert on the other side of the circle. He looked somber, and disconnected from the group. 

Ravenna took the first turn. 

“Imperio!” 

Suddenly, the lion leapt up on his hind legs. Everyone took a step backwards, but as the lion struggled to maintain balance, they burst into laughter and jeers. Albus remained silent. It seemed that Ravenna was trying to get the lion to dance. The beast moved awkwardly about, paws flailing, almost tripping over himself. 

“Imperio!” Crabbe called next. 

The lion flipped down onto his back in one loud thump, and yelped in fear. In rhythm with Crabbe’s wand, the lion spun about as if he was on a carousel. He desperately tried to dig his claws into the floor to stop himself, but all the lion managed to do was scratch the surface. 

Livia jumped in after, a sickening look on her face, and the lion was suddenly flying about them, knocking over chairs and papers in the process. They could see the animal’s body warp as it slammed into the walls, and hear bones break. 

It was Gellert who brought the lion back to the floor, holding him down with his wand. The proud beast's eyes were flying in every direction. 

Gellert peered at the animal for a long moment, and then struck.

“Crucio!”

The roars of the lion reverberated throughout the room, and Albus had to clasp his hands to his ears. The lion's body writhed about and contorted frantically, his eyes filled with pain. 

Albus looked at the others, all of them were entranced, and ready for their turn. When he looked back at Gellert, he saw a person he did not know. He tried to remember that day getting ice cream in Diagon Alley, Gellert tenderly wiping chocolate from his nose. The memory was drowned out by the whimpers of a wounded animal. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

In one quick green flash, the room went quiet. 

They looked around them, to see who had cast the curse. But it wasn’t Gellert. 

Albus had already left. 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

When Albus entered the Gryffindor Common room, he still had his wand in his hand. He was gripping it tightly, unable to let go. His only thoughts were of making it to his bed, collapsing into the sheets, drawing the ugly bed curtains around him, and forgetting the rest of the world. 

He found his path to the dormitories barred. When he looked up quickly, he saw it was Isobel. 

“Isobel, I'm not in the mood for another argument,” he said gruffly as he tried to move past her. 

“Albus.” 

The tone of her voice made him pause. There was no anger in it, only sorrow. When he looked at her face, he could see that her eyes were wet, and she was trying to say something but her mouth couldn’t find the words. Professor Dippet was behind her, with a worried look on his face. Other students were gathered around. Everyone stared at him with the same look of pity. 

He was suddenly filled with a sense of dread. 

“It’s your mother, Albus….” Isobel started quietly. 

It seemed like she wouldn’t be able to say much more than that, but then she said it. 

“She’s dead.” 

He stared back at them blankly, unable to speak. When Isobel reached for him, he recoiled. 

***

It was a misty December day, but the sun was still faintly visible through the white sky, and it wasn’t too cold. The small Hogwarts train platform was deserted, and it was likely that the train would be as well. He could hear the sound of birds in the trees, and the tranquil tide of the Black Lake. A small island lay at the center of the lake, directly across from him. He could see its trees pointed proudly into the sky. 

He sat on his luggage, in the middle of the empty Hogwarts platform, only one other briefcase at his side. In all it wasn’t very much. Everything he owned, within arms reach. 

Albus’s mind felt oddly blank. The pressure of other thoughts had finally burst, and he felt a peculiar numbness throughout his body. He realized that the last time he saw his mother, would be the last time he saw her. 

He remembered years ago, in the early days after they had moved to Godric’s Hollow, how often she had cried silently alone. She never did it in front of him. She would find some corner of the apartment, or wait until she thought they were asleep. He pretended not to hear, and when Aberforth asked after the noise he would say it was the rain. But finally he could bear it no longer, and one evening he got up from the bed and went to her side. Her quiet sobs were cut off the moment he grasped her hand. In the moonlight, he could see the tears dry on her face, as she looked him long in the eye. A look that shook him, and held him fast. He could not tell what she saw in him.

Finally, she said,“Go back to bed.” 

It was the last time he ever heard her cry. Afterwards, she bore everything dutifully. Wearily. The quiet sobs at nighttime were replaced by long hours staring at nothing at all. Thinking nothing at all. An ever pervasive numbness. She seemed to age rapidly. It was a long time before he realized how much he wished she would cry again. He wished she had taken him into her arms, and let him cry into her breast with her. But at some point, he sensed, it was too late. 

He tried to remember her further back. Before Godric’s Hollow. Of the happy childhood he had told himself he had. But he could conjure no other memory of her. Sitting on his luggage, on the empty train platform, he felt her slip from his fingers. 

He heard a yell in the distance. He looked back in the direction of the castle, and saw it was Gellert running towards him. 

“Albus!” he called. 

Albus stood up as he approached. 

“Albus!” Gellert called again. 

His blonde hair was ruffled by the wind, and his cheeks were red from running. He stopped abruptly just before Albus, and stood there catching his breath. Albus didn’t say anything. 

Finally, Gellert spoke. 

“You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?” 

Albus hadn’t meant to really. He had been in such a daze since Isobel and Professor Dippet delivered the news that all he could think about was packing and preparations. Gellert seemed hurt. 

“I’m sorry…I’ve just been a bit—distracted since…” He didn’t finish. 

“What about the mission?”

“You’ll have to finish it on your own…I don’t know if I’m helpful anymore anyway. I’ve left you my translations, and all my notes.” 

When he said it, Albus felt relieved. It felt good to let it go. 

“We can’t do this without you, Albus.”

He looked into Gellert’s eyes. They were desperate, and surprisingly tender. Nothing like the eyes he had seen earlier that had been so disturbing to him.  

“I have to go. My sister needs me … she has no one.” 

“ I need you, Albus.” 

Gellert came up to him, and took hold of his hands. 

This was it. Gellert again. The boy he wanted, returned. Soft red lips and golden blond hair tasseled by the wind. Tremulous blue eyes. He moved closer to Albus, and put a hand on his face. 

“Albus…”

Albus suddenly saw him more clearly than he had in a long time. He didn’t know what Gellert was trying to say, but he could feel his hand trembling slightly on his cheek. He could see how disheartened Gellert had become over the past few months. He could see how Gellert needed him. All the inhibitions that had held Albus back over the years, the quiet little fears, were suddenly banished, and he realized that he had what he had wanted. He knew that if he leaned in and kissed him, Gellert would allow it. He might try to spin it later, or even forget that it had happened. Pretend that it had all been a joke and laugh about it. But if Albus initiated it, Gellert would let him kiss him. 

And yet, something else held Albus back that he couldn’t quite place. Gellert was looking at him exactly the way he had always hoped. But all he could think about was Gellert’s face as he stood over the lion and watched it writhe in pain. 

They stood there for a long time without moving. The arrival of the train broke the trance, and Gellert dropped his hands awkwardly to his sides. 

“I have to go,” Albus said in a soft voice. 

Gellert looked like he was trying to say something. He stood there helplessly, as Albus picked up his luggage, and stepped onto the train. 

“Albus, wait.”

Albus turned to look at him back on the platform. The blue of his eyes shone bright in the daylight. Gellert reached around his neck, and pulled off a necklace that had been hiding in his shirt. Albus had never seen it before. It was adorned with a silver pendant, with a deep red circle at its center. 

“This is a family heirloom. My father gave it to me before I left for England. I haven’t always been fond of it, but… It contains the blood of my family. My blood… I want you to have it.”

Albus didn’t know what to say. 

“Gellert…I can’t—”

“Please, Albus. Take it.”

Gellert held the necklace out to him. Albus didn’t understand, but he could see the pleading of Gellert’s eyes. 

He reached out and took the necklace from him. There was nothing more to be said. Albus turned from him and headed into the empty train.

When he looked out the car window at the platform, Gellert was heading back up to the castle.

Chapter Text

Godric’s Hollow.

Albus closed his eyes and prepared himself. After taking a deep breath, he reached out and knocked on the door. It was not long before he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching down the stairs, and then the door swung open. A middle-aged woman appeared, in a dark red dress and shawl. Her hair was pulled back tight in a bun. Her face was as hard as stone.

“Albus Dumbledore,” she said, with some bitterness in her voice, “you’ve finally arrived.”

“Hello, Bathilda,” he said curtly. He wanted to keep things polite, and short. 

“And how is my nephew?” She didn’t move from the doorway. 

“You’ll have to ask him yourself.” 

“I’ll see my own funeral before I hear back from that boy.” 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, until Albus pushed past her, heading up the stairs to the flat above. She followed quickly behind him. 

“You have some nerve! After all your mother suffered, what a pitiful service that was. Kendra always said what an ungrateful little—” 

“That will be enough!” he shot back, raising his voice. He doubted his mother had said anything to Bathilda about him, but he didn’t want to give her more time to air grievances. 

When he reached the top of the stairs, he stopped. He had difficulty looking at the ratty old flat around him. It might have been respectable once, but now it was both threadbare and dirty. Unwashed clothes lay strewn about over dusty chairs. Dishes with bits of old food left on the table. It seemed like they had been there for weeks. On the dresser by the wall a newspaper lay open. On the open page was a photograph of him—an article that had come out when he released his paper. 

“This is how they’ve been living?!” Albus asked Bathilda angrily, as if it was her fault. 

“I offered my help!” Bathilda yelled back. Her voice was harsh and unyielding. “I’ve always offered it! She wouldn’t let me inside the flat in the last weeks. I don’t know what got into her.” 

Albus knew she was telling the truth, but he didn’t want to say it. He headed for the bedroom door. Bathilda was hot on his heels, but he was much younger, and moved more quickly than her. He made it to the door first. He stopped for a moment, gave a gentle knock, and then carefully opened the door. 

She was sitting on the bed, her back to him, facing an empty wall. She was humming a tune softly that he did not immediately recognize, but he felt he knew from somewhere deep in his memory. He was relieved to see her soft brown hair was combed, and her dress looked clean. As he walked slowly around the bed, he could see she was fiddling with something in her hands. It looked to be a flower made out of paper. 

For a moment, he just stood there watching her, not saying a word. Bathilda was watching silently from the doorway. It was a small, plain room that barely fit more than the wrought-iron bed at its center. Other than a dresser and a wooden chair, it had no other furnishings. A single window above the bed let in the harsh light of the outside world. Everything felt excessively bare. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in an asylum.

He moved slightly, and the floorboard creaked. She looked up at him. 

At first it seemed as if she didn’t recognize him. Her big blue eyes met his. She looked at him curiously. Then, slowly, she smiled. 

“Albie.” 

“Hello, Ariana.” 

He tried to smile back, but it came out half-hearted. Ariana didn’t mind. 

“Albie, Bathilda said Mama isn’t coming back home. Do you know where she is?” 

He had forgotten her sing-song voice, its ethereal quality that disturbed everyone who spoke with her. 

“Ariana…she’s not coming back…Mama is dead,” he said softly. 

She looked at him with an odd look, and did not seem to understand. In a moment, her expression became tranquil again.

“Look, I made it for you.” She held out the paper flower. He looked at her sadly, but took it. 

“Thank you, Ariana.” 

When he took it from her, he felt a little prick in his hand. He looked down, and saw that the flower had thorns fashioned into the stem. They were so sharp that they had given him a paper cut. A small red drop of blood appeared on his thumb. He quickly put the flower in his coat pocket, and then hid his thumb in the palm of his hand. 

“Albie?” 

“Yes, Ariana?”

“Where is Mama?” 

He didn’t know what to say, although Ariana soon forgot the question. She went back to humming, and played with the fraying hem of her skirt as if it were a ball of string.

“A shame that,” Bathilda said from the door. He looked back at her. “Everyone thought she was going to be such a power witch. So precocious, she was. I had never seen a child perform that kind of magic.” She nodded towards a humming Ariana, who seemed oblivious to the conversation. “Now look at her.” 

Albus didn’t want to acknowledge what she had said, and merely glared at her. He turned back to Ariana, and crouched down in front of her. He spoke quietly so Bathilda couldn’t overhear.

“Ariana, I’m going to be taking care of you now.” 

“Alright.” She didn’t look up from her dress. He could have been asking her if she wanted breakfast. 

“We have to go away from here now.”

“But where?” 

“Back home.” 

She looked at him again, not really sure the full meaning of his words. 

“It’s alright. You don’t need to be afraid,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare at him. It seemed like she was really looking at him for the first time since he had entered the room. He didn’t like her look, so he stood up again. He wanted them to get out of there, and quickly. He pulled his wand out and then got started packing. He pulled a dusty brown valise out of the corner of the bedroom and placed it on the bed. Then he pointed his wand towards the dresser. All of its contents began to fly out, and fold themselves neatly into the valise. 

Ariana became frightened by the sudden commotion and moved away. 

“It’s alright,” he said calmly. He went over to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. 

“You should be careful, Albus Dumbledore,” Bathilda said from the doorway. “There’s something in her that isn’t right, I tell you. They said it was an accident but—”

“Enough!” Albus yelled, and the fury in his eyes shut her up. “Come on Ariana, we’re leaving.” 

He grabbed the valise in one hand, and Ariana in the other, and strode from the room. This time Bathilda stepped aside to let them pass. 

“You be careful, Albus Dumbledore!” Bathilda called after. 

Albus and Ariana ignored her. 

Outside, the streets were starting to get crowded. It had rained the night before, and the ground was muddy. When they stepped out the door, Ariana immediately shielded her face. It was a bright cold day, and her eyes were not used to the intensity of the light.

“Come on, Ariana.” 

He didn’t want them to be seen by anyone in the village. He had hired a thestral coach to transport them. It was waiting on the other side of the street. They were about half way there when Albus realized there was someone waiting by the carriage. 

“Aberforth!” Ariana exclaimed joyfully. 

She dropped Albus’s hand and ran to him. Like Albus, he was still wearing his suit from the funeral earlier that day. Aberforth opened his arms wide, and wrapped Ariana into a tight embrace. Albus watched them, as they held each other. 

“Albus is taking us home!” she said excitedly. “Do you know where Mama is, Aberforth?” Aberforth just looked at her with a sad smile, and ignored the question. 

“It’s good to see you too, Ariana,” he said. She returned the smile, and squeezed him tightly.

“Come now, Ariana,” Albus said, pulling them apart. “We need to be off.” He started to help her into the carriage. 

“I’m coming with you,” Aberforth called after him. 

“No, you’re not,” Albus shot back. 

“You can’t command me, Albus!” He tried to force his way to the coach, but Albus blocked him with his body. 

“Yes I can! I’m your legal guardian now. You’re heading back to Hogwarts, and you’re finishing school! That’s final!” 

Frustration and helplessness clashed on Aberforth’s face. He started breathing fast. Ariana looked on from the coach, lost in the disagreement. Suddenly, Aberforth reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at Albus. 

“If you want to send me back there, you’re going to have to force me.” 

Albus could see Aberforth’s eyes become wet. He sighed. 

“I can’t force you to do anything, Aberforth,” he said, defeated. “If you don’t want to go back to Hogwarts, fine, but you won’t be allowed back in the house.” 

He didn’t wait for Aberforth to respond. Albus turned around, and jumped into the coach next to Ariana. 

“Aberforth?” she called out softly.

Aberforth was sobbing. His knees collapsed into the mud of the street. He watched the coach lumber away.  

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

The grand manse rose out of the fog like a mountain on the horizon. In the darkening mist he could see its spires and turrets, like jagged teeth piercing upward from the ground. The two great stone sphinxes stood watch as ever, eyeing them as they passed. 

Ariana clung closely to him, pulling at his coat. He tried to reassure her with his arms around her shoulders, but he too was afraid. He had been told once that the mansion was haunted, and he had laughed it away. But standing there looking at it now he understood. The neglect of the years was clearly visible across the facade. He could see crumbling stones, several broken windows, and withered vines in every recess. 

“Come now,” he said to Ariana, as he led her up the front stairs to the terrace. The wood of the front door was splintering, and the metal hinges were starting to show signs of rust. With a shaking hand he pushed the door open, and stepped inside. 

The interior was dark, and his eyes needed a moment to readjust. The main hall, with its grand staircase shrouded in shadow, was just as imposing as he remembered, though the details had changed. As his eyes acclimated to the dim light, he could see a layer of dust covering every surface and floating down from the ceiling. The massive chandelier loomed high above them, though it remained unlit, and its crystals, which sparkled in his memory, barely reflected the light from outside. Everything felt still. But then he realized he could hear the faint ticking of the great grandfather clock, in its spot by the foot of the stairs, covered with a white sheet. 

He looked behind him. Ariana was still waiting at the door, too scared to enter. 

“Don’t be afraid now,” he called gently back to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hall. 

They stood there for a moment, in silence, and breathed in the dusty air. 

“Hello?” a faint voice called out suddenly. Ariana clinged to Albus.

“Who’s there?!” Albus shouted back. 

“Master Albus?” the soft voice called back. 

It came from the second story. Up by the bannister on the upper floor, a small figure appeared in the shadows. He was no bigger than a child, with pointed ears, and leathery wrinkled skin. A worn, brown pillowcase was his only adornment. He looked down at them, with as much fear as they did to him. 

“Foggy?!” 

All of a sudden, the house elf’s expression changed to one of delight. He clasped his hands together in excitement. 

“Master Albus!” 

The house elf ran quickly down the steps of the grand staircase towards them. Despite his haste, it was clear that the house elf had aged, and he seemed to have trouble with the steps. 

“Foggy’s so happy to see Master Albus again!” he exclaimed gleefully, as he approached them. “And Miss Ariana, too!” 

Albus was still a bit too shocked to say anything back, but Ariana crouched low when the house elf came up to them. Her fear was gone, and she approached Foggy like an old friend. 

“Miss Ariana!” he said again. “You’ve grown up, you have!”

They smiled at each other, and she let the house elf embrace her legs. 

“Hello, Foggy,” Albus said, trying to hide his discomfort.

“Oh Foggy’s so happy to have his family back with him again!” 

The house elf was so overcome with emotion, he seemed on the verge of tears. Foggy had been getting on in years when Albus was a child, but now he was really starting to show the years. His back was permanently curved, and his hands never seemed to stop shaking. But the sight of Albus and Ariana had brightened his face. He couldn’t stop smiling at them. 

“Foggy’s been keeping the house in good order, just as the Mistress told him to when she left,” he told them eagerly. 

Albus looked dubiously at the dust all around him, but he didn’t contradict the elf. 

“Foggy was worried he would never get to see the nice Dumbledore children again.” 

Albus tried to smile at the overcome house elf. 

“Thank you—Foggy…” He didn’t know what to say. “You’ve, err—done well.” 

“Foggy is happy to serve the great Dumbledore family.” 

The house elf bowed low at this. It made Albus uneasy. 

“Foggy…Ariana and I will be staying here for a little while…do you think you could set up two rooms for us?” 

“Of course, Master Albus, of course!” He clapped his hands together in excitement. “Should Foggy get the rest of the house ready as well—”

“ —that won’t be necessary, Foggy,” Albus said, cutting him off.

“And the Mistress, and Master Aberforth?” Foggy asked. 

Albus looked away, unable to meet Foggy’s inquiring eyes.

“They won’t be coming.” 

The house elf wasn’t pleased with this news, but he was still ecstatic to have Albus and Ariana in the house. Albus didn’t want to explain anything further, so he turned to Ariana and began leading her towards the stairs. 

“Come Ariana, it’s been a long day, and you should rest.” 

***

Albus had not said which rooms he wanted them to stay in, so Foggy had instinctively started to prepare his parents’ bedroom for him. He flatly refused, and told Foggy that he would be staying in his old room instead. 

He stood in his childhood bedroom alone for a while, and let old memories creep back towards him. A few moldy books lay on a chair in a corner. A small desk with drawings left behind. He recognized an old willow tree in one of them, that he knew lay somewhere on the grounds. He couldn’t remember where. When he sat on the bed, he realized how exhausted he was, and desperately wanted to fall asleep. But he fought the urge. He did not want to be left too long with his thoughts, even less so with his dreams. 

He looked at his hand, and saw that he had bled more than he had thought. Dried blood was on his palm. He reached into his coat pocket to retrieve the flower Ariana had given him, and when he did he felt Gellert’s necklace. He took them both out and placed the flower on the desk. He held the necklace up to the light. The chain was cold against his palm. His blood had stained the silver. He made a note to clean it when he had the chance. He dropped it on the desk. He didn’t want to think about Gellert.

For dinner, Albus attempted to make a stew out of the food he had brought with him. The cupboards were threadbare. Essentially some mashed potatoes boiled in salt water. 

They sat in the grand dining room, at one end of the long empty table. Foggy had done his best to polish the silver, but it still looked irreparably faded. The room was lit up by some candles, but the light was still very dim.

They sat there, the two of them, in silence. Albus was at the head, and Ariana directly adjacent to him. Foggy had set the seating arrangements. The last time Albus had dined in the room, he was at the other end, with the rest of the children. He realized he was sitting in the seat his father had usually sat in. He tried not to think about it.

Albus read a book quietly as he ate. He wanted a distraction from his mind, and books were the only way he knew how. As time passed, he realized Ariana wasn’t eating. She was looking down distastefully at her bowl of stew, pushing it around with her spoon. 

“Come, Ariana. Eat,” he said in a soft voice, trying to be encouraging. 

She didn’t say anything, and continued staring at her bowl. She was sitting slouched in the chair. Her hair had fallen in front of her face, but he could see her blue eyes shine through. They seemed wet. 

He realized for the first time that things had gotten to her.

“Where is Mama?”

His mouth went dry, and he put his book down. He didn’t want to go through it all again. He pressed on.

“Ariana, you must eat.” 

This time he tried to be more commanding. 

Ariana made no response, but pushed her bowl away from her angrily. Some of the soup spilled onto the table cloth. 

“Ariana!” 

He didn’t know where his anger came from, but it suddenly burst out of him. 

“Ariana, I am your guardian, and when I tell you to eat you must eat!” he yelled at her.

“I don’t want it!” Her voice was petulant, like a child’s. 

Albus stood up, and towered over her. 

“Ariana!” 

But when he reached for her she opened her mouth and screamed. It was a piercing cry that reverberated off the walls, and then into the rest of the house. So loud Albus had to clasp his hands to his ears. The room was suddenly filled with wind, like a tornado had blown in from the hall. Everything on the table was blown onto the opposing wall, soupy potatoes spilling onto the carpet, the tablecloth flying in the air like an untethered flag. The candles flickered out, and the room went dark. 

Albus backed away until he felt a wall. He heard Ariana fleeing from the room. 

“Master Albus! Master Albus!” Foggy called as he ran into the dinning room. With a snap of his fingers the candles relit themselves. “What happened?!” 

“Nothing, Foggy,” Albus said, trying to regain control. “Ariana just had a fit that’s all.” 

Foggy immediately started to make his way towards the stairs in the hallway beyond the dining room, but Albus stopped him. 

“Let her go, Foggy. I think it's best if she’s alone for a little while.” 

Foggy didn’t seem to like this approach, but he didn’t disagree. He turned back dejectedly. 

“Foggy will clean this all up right away, Master Albus. Don’t you worry.” 

“Thank you, Foggy.” 

He felt very weak all of a sudden, and he stumbled out of the dining room. He didn’t want Foggy to see him falter, and worry about him. In the hallway beyond the dining room, he had to hold onto the wall to keep himself from falling. His heartbeat calmed, and his head became less faint. 

There were many paintings on the walls of the corridor, each covered by a white sheet. He looked at one on the wall across from him. He thought he knew the portrait that lay underneath the cloth. Not fully understanding the urge that came over him, he walked up to the painting and pulled away the sheet. 

It was the family portrait. He looked to be eight or nine at the time. His parents sat in large armchairs and the three children sat on their feet on the ground. He scrutinized himself. The boy who looked back at him had a big smile. His brother was next to him, and although he looked shyer, he too was smiling. Ariana seemed to be laughing about something only she knew. 

He looked up at his parents. His mother had her head held high, the proud, great lady he remembered from years past. 

He tried not to, but he couldn’t stop himself. His eyes veered towards his father. 

He gasped. 

There was a sickening sneer on his father’s face. He looked directly down into him, with a look of utter disgust. His eyes made Albus’s heart stop. For a moment, he was paralyzed with fear.

Unable to bear it any longer, Albus grasped the white sheet on the floor, and threw it back over the portrait. The family became hidden once more. 

Chapter Text

My Dear Gellert,

I have not heard from you in some time, but I assume you are busy with the search along with the others. I hope you are making progress. I won’t say more on it. 

I suspect the castle will be covered in snow by now, as it is here. Winter was always my favorite season at school. I do wish we could take one of our long walks again on a snowy day as we used to. I have been walking alone a lot recently, refamiliarizing myself with the grounds. All the fields, woods and streams I remembered from childhood. It’s funny, the paths are the same, the hills the same, even many of the trees are the old ones, just as I left them. But something feels different about them. An emptiness to them. I can’t really explain it. Sometimes I’m away from the house for hours and I lose track of time. I typically have to rush back around sundown to make sure everything is alright with Ariana. 

Things haven’t been easy with her. She has fortunately stopped asking after our mother, and I suspect the truth has ‘sunk in’ somewhat. It’s hard for me to decipher her moods, but I can tell she is depressed. I just don’t know what to do. Every move I make to help seems to backfire. Certain days she is so uncontrollable and violent, I think she’ll bring the house down around us. On others she doesn’t say a word at all. It’s these days that I fear more. I don’t always know if she understands what I’m saying to her. Her mind is still that of a child. There are times when she stares at nothing for hours, or mutters to herself incoherently. One would almost think she is having a vision.

Foggy, our house elf, has been helpful, but sometimes I just can’t stand his constant worrying and attentiveness. His sad, pitying look is unbearable. I feel a bit guilty when he’s around (I know you’d find that odd, he’s just a house elf after all), but my family just left him here to care for the house and completely forgot about him. When I look at him, I’m reminded of times I don’t want to remember. 

The truth is, I feel desperately alone. I’m thinking about you often, about the year before you went away to Durmstrang. Things were so different from the way they feel now. The wider world was so very far away. I remember that time we replaced Professor Bimble’s ink with Insulting Ink, and he called himself a boggart. I remember you laughing. 

It feels like a long time since I laughed at anything. I miss it. I miss you. I also think about the last time we saw each other, on the train platform at Hogwarts. Thank you for the necklace you gave me. I feel unworthy of such a gift, but it is good to have a reminder of you. I’ve been thinking about our last meeting again and again, and I’m not sure what to say or even how I feel. Maybe I want to apologize? I’m not sure what for. But, I’m sorry.

I’ll look for your letter, although I know you don’t enjoy writing them, and it’s alright if you don’t. It’s enough to know you’re thinking of me.  I’m thinking of you.

With Love,

Albus

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

Late Winter.

The sun was reaching its peak when he left the house. She watched him go from her bedroom window. He walked slowly across the field, heading towards the farms on the other side of the river. He would be gone for hours. 

She crept down the staircase, stopping before the last step. She knew that the wood creaked, so she stepped over it carefully, and listened for Foggy. He was humming away in the kitchen, oblivious. 

She walked quietly across the hall, and headed for the main door. It was unlocked. She pushed it open hesitantly, seeing how it would react. It opened with ease. 

She could feel a gentle breeze come from outside, and let it touch her cheeks. Her skin tingled. She took her first step outside of the house, then another. It was a brisk day, but she appreciated the cold. Most of the recent snow had melted, and she could see grass underneath. It would be spring in a few weeks. She walked down the terrace steps and reached the ground. Her feet were bare, and she could feel the wet earth between her toes. She breathed in deeply, filling up her lungs. 

Everything beckoned. 

She started to run. Dirt flew up behind her, and the wind began to rush in her ears. A grin appeared on her face. 

When she reached the village she slowed down, and began to walk again. She peered down alleyways and side streets. People were walking about, but they didn’t seem to pay her any attention. She could tell they were not like her. They seemed happy and kind though. There was a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the village. At its center little gurgles of water bubbled out of a basin, and dripped into the pool below. She looked around cautiously, and then put her hand in the cool water. Immediately, all the water in the basin froze solid. She laughed to herself. No one had seemed to notice. 

She leisurely made her way deeper into the village. She had never been around this many people before. She stared at them, fascinated by the way they walked and spoke. One woman nodded her head in greeting as she passed her. A few gave her some curious looks, especially at her shoeless feet, but then went back to their own tasks.

Suddenly she stopped. 

Across the street was a bakery. The plump, rosy-cheeked baker was just putting out a delicious looking tray of puff pastries. They were drizzled in a sugary glaze, and had cherries on top. Her eyes grew wide, and she concocted a plan. 

Crouching down behind some grain-filled barrels, she looked across the street at the bakery. She lifted her right hand and wriggled her fingers. Just as the baker turned his back to speak with a customer nearby, one of the pastries leapt up and floated in the air. Slowly, it traveled across the street towards her. She needed to dodge the incoming traffic along the way. Her mouth watered as it came closer. 

Finally it was within her grasp. She reached out and snatched the pastry suspended in the air. In an instant she took one giant bite of it, letting it fill her mouth. A mixture of sugar and buttery flakes immediately coated her tongue. Her eyes closed. She groaned in pleasure, taking her time to savor it before swallowing. 

“Hey you!”

She opened her eyes and turned. It was the baker, pointing right at her. The pastry, only missing one bite, was still in her hand and visible to everyone. 

“You have to pay for that!” he yelled again. Others were starting to look at her. 

She didn’t know what to do, and just stood there anxiously for a moment.

The second the baker took his first step towards her, she turned and bolted. She had not quite understood the man, but she knew if he reached her, she wouldn’t be able to finish her treat. She ran down an alleyway between two houses and then into a larger street beyond it. Everyone was looking at her now. Glancing back, she saw the baker was running behind her. He was faster than she thought he would be. 

“Thief! Thief!” he started to yell. 

She didn’t know what he was trying to say, but it seemed to have an effect on the others. Their curious looks turned to concern, and disapproval. She ran down the street, pushing through the crowd. One man tried to grasp her arm and she screamed. He let go, and she ran faster. 

She turned down an alleyway that was filled with clotheslines. Laundry swayed in the wind. With one backward look, she saw the baker was catching up. She charged down the alley. When she heard the baker’s panting breaths behind her, she waved her hand up in the air in one frantic motion. All of a sudden, all the clothes hanging on the lines above were ripped off. They flew down rapidly to wrap themselves around the body of the baker. 

She didn’t stop running, but she did look back to see him struggling to pull some trousers off his face. She laughed again. She was glad she had decided to leave the house. 

She emerged onto the next main street. It was more crowded than the last one. 

Suddenly, she heard the high-pitched yelp of an animal. It came at her fast to her right, and she froze. She screamed, just as the animal reared up on its hind legs. She threw up her hands to protect herself. A sharp burst of white light engulfed her. She was thrown back onto the ground, and then everything went black. 

When she awoke, she saw warm brown eyes looking down at her. It was a man, kneeling over her on the ground. He was young and handsome, and seemed friendly. He was wearing a white coat, which she thought was odd. It reflected the sunlight and forced her to squint. He smiled kindly when he saw her eyes open, and said something she couldn’t quite hear, though he was near enough he could have whispered. Her ears readjusted, and he spoke again.

“Are you alright?” he repeated.

She understood this question, but she was still too terrified to respond. 

“She’s a thief I tell you!” 

She turned her head to see the baker glowering at her from a few feet away. His entire face was bright red. There was a stocking wrapped around his leg. The pastry was still in her hand, crumbled beneath her fist. The young man ignored what the baker had said. 

“Took quite a tumble there,” the young man said. 

His voice was soft and reassuring. She hoped he wouldn’t leave her. A small crowd was gathered around them now, everyone looking down at her. Behind him, she saw the animal, which she realized now was a horse. It was hitched to a carriage. A small, older man with a top hat stood next to the horse, patting its back. He seemed to be afraid of her.

“She came out of nowhere, Doctor—I swear!” the old man said from the horse’s side. He clearly didn’t want to come any closer.

“It’s all right, Edmund,” the young man said, without looking back. He kept his eyes on her. 

“I want restitution!” The baker said to the young man angrily. 

“Sixpence ought to be enough, surely.” 

The young man’s voice seemed to put the entire crowd at ease. He was calm and cool with everyone.  He reached into his vest pocket underneath his coat, and pulled out a coin. He held it out to the baker, who snatched it angrily. When the baker marched off, the young man looked at her again. 

“I’m Doctor Fawkes, may I help you?” 

All she could manage was an almost imperceptible nod. He reached out carefully, and turned her arm over. It was bleeding. She hadn’t noticed it before. 

“Doesn’t seem to be that serious,” he said after examining it for a moment. “Can I take you back to the clinic and tend to it?” 

She didn’t understand this question, and just looked around her fearfully. The crowd had not dispersed, and continued to watch them. 

“No need to be afraid,” the man said. 

It was odd. Albus had often said the same thing to her. But when her brother said it, she could feel all the fear he was hiding away. The young man had no fear. Or at least it seemed so as he leaned over her and examined her arm. There was something about his face that reassured her and made her feel safe. More than anything, she didn’t want to be left alone. 

She allowed him to help her up, and he let her lean on him for support as she steadied her legs. He turned to another man in the crowd, who had a large mustache and was also dressed strangely. She realized he was the one who had grabbed her arm earlier. 

“I think I can take it from here, officer,” the young man said beside her. 

The officer nodded, but looked a little displeased. She looked at the ground as they moved past the crowd and into the street. 

He led her into a building that was very bright inside. A series of large windows were on one wall, and there were many small beds lined up beneath. Some of them contained people. They looked at her inquisitively as she walked in. 

“Don’t pay them any mind,” the man said as they moved through the beds. 

A young woman with an apron and a white headdress walked up to them. 

“Doctor Fawkes, Miss Harris is here—”

“ —Yes, I’ll see her in a moment, Claire. Thank you.” 

He didn’t stop walking as he said it, and they continued on. He led her to a smaller room that had a large desk and was surrounded by shelves with glass vials. He sat her gently in a chair by the desk, and then went to grab a box on a nearby dresser. He pulled out some rags, white bandages and a small bottle of clear liquid. Gathering them on his lap, he sat down in a chair right next to hers. He quickly set about whipping the blood away from her arm. 

“And what is your name, Miss?” 

She didn’t respond to him, instead watching his hands carefully at work. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I don’t bite,” he said with a little laugh. She thought this an odd thing to say, but she felt like she wanted to laugh too. She liked the way the man spoke.

“I’m not supposed to be out of the house,” she said finally. He looked up at her a little curiously, but then went back to her arm.

“I’m sure everything will be alright.” 

She didn’t see how he knew this, but she let him continue. He grabbed the little vial near him, and poured some of the liquid inside on a clean cloth. 

“Alright,” he said. “This might sting a little, but it will be done in a moment. Can you be brave?” He looked up at her eyes, waiting for her to answer. She thought about it, and nodded. 

“Alright then.”

Very delicately, he started to wipe at where the blood appeared on her arm. She winced, but he was done in a moment, as he had promised.

“All done,” he said, smiling. He put away the cloth and the bottle, and picked up the bandages. He started to wrap them around her arm. 

“Albie says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she told him. 

“Probably for the best,” he responded, continuing to wrap her arm. 

“You’re not like the others though,” she said. 

He looked up at her and smiled at this. He pined the bandage, and stood up from his chair. 

“Finished.”

He looked at her other hand. The pastry was still crumbled in her fist. 

“I think it might be best if we throw that away now,” he said. 

She wasn’t too pleased with the suggestion, but when he placed a small bin beside her, she opened her hand, and let the crumbled pastry drop inside. 

“Here.” 

He walked around his desk, reached into a small bowl that was resting there, and pulled out an orange. 

“How about this?” 

She nodded, though she had never eaten one before. He began peeling it for her, and pulled out a wedge of it. He handed it to her, and after examining it carefully, she plopped it into her mouth. It was sweet and watery, and felt refreshing on her tongue. Like sipping from a cold stream on a hot summer day. 

She smiled at him. 

“Good isn’t it?” 

He gave her another wedge, which she quickly devoured, and he sat back down next to her. As she ate, he held her hand and wrapped his fingers around her forearm. His index finger and thumb were able to meet easily on the other side. 

“A bit hungry, are we?” he asked. 

She kept on chewing eagerly. 

“Would it be alright if I brought you home?” 

She nodded.

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

He had a horse with a snowy white coat that he let her ride on. At first she was scared, but he showed her that the horse was really quite gentle. He had brought an apple for the horse to eat. He told her that the horse’s name was Oscar. She laughed when she got into the saddle. She had never ridden on one before. He wrapped the straps of his bag around the saddle, and leapt up behind her. He had filled it with ingredients before they left the clinic, and swapped his white coat for a normal tweed one. With a quick kick, Oscar jumped into a trot and they slowly made their way out of the village. 

The sun was starting to sink in the sky as they approached the house. He leapt down first, and then helped her after him. He tied the reins of the horse to an old decaying cart nearby. Oscar immediately started to graze on the grass below him. 

The man looked up at the old mansion for a long moment, his brows knit together. She realized that despite his prior confidence, he was afraid. When she walked up to him and grabbed his arm, his face cleared, and he became more light, as he was before. 

“Let’s see if anyone’s home,” he said, wrapping his arm around her, and pulling his bag over his shoulder. 

He knocked very carefully on the door, but there was no response. He did it again, a bit louder this time. Still, nothing but silence. Then, he pushed it gently, and the door immediately gave way. It was dark as always inside, and their eyes took a moment to adjust. 

“Hello?” he called. “Anyone here?” 

The house seemed completely empty. He looked back at her for some sign, but she looked as if she had never been there before. 

“Why don’t we find the kitchen?”

After some wandering through the dark house, he found it. She watched him from the table, as he rummaged around the cupboards and the pantry. It seemed like he was becoming a little frustrated, as he opened each cabinet only to find it nearly empty. He swiped a finger through one, it was almost black from the dust. He turned back to her. 

“Glad I brought my own materials,” he said with a laugh. 

***

Albus was just making his way back across the field when Foggy suddenly appeared.

“Master Albus! Master Albus!” The house elf was extremely agitated, and Albus had a difficult time understanding him. Finally the elf blurted it out. 

“It’s Miss Ariana! There’s a man in the house!” 

Albus’s face went white. 

“Ariana!” Albus yelled. 

He quickly disapparated to the front door, though it was not far. He noticed there was a white horse tied to the old cart in the front yard. Fear was gripping him. He saw with horror that the front door lay open. 

“Ariana!” 

When he was inside, he pulled out his wand, and with a quick wave, all the candles in the house immediately flickered awake. The hall was filled with light. 

“Ariana!” he called again, sounding more desperate. 

He heard laughing in the distance, coming from the kitchens. He quickly ran in their direction, down the north hallway, and nearly burst open the kitchen door. 

She was there, seated at the long kitchen table. A young man was sitting across from her. There were bowls of what looked like stew sitting in front of them. A steaming pot was on the stove cooling off. 

When Albus burst in, they both stood up. Ariana had a guilty expression on her face. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Albus said angrily. 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude,” the man responded. 

Standing up, he was about Albus’s height. He had taken off his coat, which was placed casually on the back of the chair behind him. While a bit flustered by Albus’s entrance, he was clearly trying to keep his composure, and held out his hands apologetically. 

“I was just helping her back to the house, and no one seemed home so—”

“ —back to the house?!” Albus yelled. “She left?!” He turned back to Ariana, who was looking at the floor. 

“Everything’s perfectly alright,” the man said calmly, ignoring Albus’s tone. “She just had a little tumble in the village.” 

“What?!” 

He ran over to her.  Ariana backed away as he approached. He saw the bandage on her arm and grasped it. 

“Are you hurt?!” he yelled, grabbing her arms and shaking her. She looked at him with trembling eyes, but said nothing. 

“She’s quite fine, it’s just a scratch really,” the man said walking over. “I’m a doctor.” 

Albus looked back at him then, and saw him more clearly. 

“You’re a muggle!” 

The man tilted his head, looking puzzled. 

“No—I'm a doctor. I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Doctor Fawkes.”

He held out his hand. Albus just looked at it. He was speechless. They all stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Get out of my house.” 

His voice was low and icy. The man let his hand drop. 

“I didn’t mean any harm.” 

“Get out!” Albus yelled. He could hear Ariana start to whimper next to him, but he didn’t let his eyes drop from the muggle. 

Sensing they had reached an impasse, the man turned and grabbed his coat from the chair. He took his time, and didn’t seem in any rush as he pulled his coat back on, and picked up his bag. His languid pace angered Albus, and he marched up to the man, grabbed him by his coat sleeve, and started dragging him out of the kitchen. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, as they marched instep to the door. 

They left Ariana in the kitchen, walking briskly down the hallway and then into the main hall. They had just made it to the main entrance, when the man threw his arm in front of Albus and blocked the doorway.

“Look!” he said roughly. 

His polite tone from before was dropped, and Albus was struck by his directness. 

“I know you’re trying your best, and I can’t promise I can cure her. But keeping her cooped up in this dark house with no sunlight and poor food is clearly not working.” 

Albus felt like he had been slapped in the face. Who was this muggle to tell him anything? He wanted to say something back, but all he could manage was a haughty scoff. The man was unaffected. 

“If you need me, I work at the clinic in the village.” 

And with that, he turned swiftly on his heels, and marched down the terrace steps. He untied the horse in the yard, leapt onto the saddle, and rode away without looking back. 

Albus stood there, watching him ride off longer than he meant to. He turned around and walked back in the house, slamming the door behind him. 

Outside the kitchen door, he found Ariana. She was crouched on the floor, shoveling the rest of the stew into her mouth hungrily. She was almost beast-like. The sight shocked him.  She pulled the bowl in closer to her body, fearful that he was going to take it from her. 

He tried to calm himself down. He knew he had frightened her. 

“Ariana, I—” But as he took a step toward her, she jumped up and ran away, taking the bowl with her. 

Everything had happened so fast, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done something wrong, but he couldn’t quite say what that was at the moment. He felt deeply confused.

He walked back into the kitchen, and when he did he noticed the smell of the stew, which he hadn’t been aware of before. His stomach immediately grumbled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything that day. Had Ariana? he thought. 

He walked up to the stove, where the large pot was still steaming. It was filled with red, frothy liquid, flecks of green vegetables floating just underneath the surface. Cautiously, he picked up the large spoon on the counter next to him, dipped it in the pot, and took a sip. 

His knees quivered, and he felt a tingle go through his entire body. It was as if he had forgotten what food tasted like, and just remembered in that exact moment. The stew was warm, creamy and rich. After he gulped it down, he gasped. 

“Master Albus,” a quiet voice said behind him. 

He turned, spoon in hand. Foggy was at the kitchen door. 

“Everything alright, Master Albus?” Foggy asked worryingly. 

“Yes, Foggy. Everything’s fine.” 

Albus suddenly became very dejected. He traced back the sequence of events that had taken place since Foggy had appeared in the field, and he couldn’t make sense of them. He felt oddly ashamed. 

“He didn’t seem all that bad…” Foggy said, looking a little unsure. “Foggy watched him as he came in… he treated Miss Ariana very kindly.” 

Albus didn’t say anything to this, and Foggy didn’t seem like he had anything more to add. He waddled off in the direction Ariana had gone, and Albus was left alone. 

He walked slowly outside the kitchen, into the hallway it shared with the dining room. He didn’t want to have to deal with the bewitching smell from the stove. The odor seemed to cloud his head, and he was finding it difficult to think. But he still had the spoon in his hand. He leaned against the hallway wall, and slid to the floor. He looked at the spoon, and twirled it around his fingers. 

Across the hallway was the family portrait. It was covered safely underneath its white sheet, but he still felt like the figures could peer through and see him. 

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

The clinic was not terribly large, and seemed to blend in with the other quaint town houses of the small country village. The town could not have been more than a few thousand, but Albus was surprised to find a bustling hospital inside, with nurses going to and fro and several of the beds occupied. He walked inside feeling very out of place. He wondered if he looked enough like a muggle, and glanced down at his gray suit vest. 

He didn’t know whether to dress up or down to go to a muggle clinic. He figured it would be like a day in London. But no one seemed to notice him when he walked in. Everyone was busy attending to tasks. To what purpose, he didn’t know. 

He managed to flag down a hurried nurse, who was not happy to be interrupted. 

“I’m looking for Doctor Fawkes?” he asked hesitantly. 

She pointed to a door at the end of the ward, and left him without saying a word. He crossed to the other end of the large room, avoiding the eyes of the occupants in the beds. The door had a name tag, but it said ‘Doctor Clarkson’, rather than Fawkes. He felt a little lost, but he didn’t want to bother one of the other nurses, so he gave the door a soft knock and waited. 

“Come in,” a voice called from the other side. 

He turned the handle, and popped his head inside the door. 

It was the muggle from the other day, head bent down over his desk, and writing something fervently. He was wearing a white coat, but otherwise a simple suit vest and trousers underneath. Albus could not see what he was writing, but the script looked careful and delicate. 

“Just a moment,” he said politely, without looking up. 

Albus stood there awkwardly, and looked around him. 

It was a small room, but not too cramped, with a large desk, a few chairs and dressers. Shelves filled with bottles adorned three walls. They were arranged neatly according to size and color, or at least that’s how it appeared to Albus. A large window on one side allowed for ample light to enter. In all, it didn’t seem like a bad place to do some quiet work. It reminded Albus of Professor Dippet’s office, though a bit more organized and bright. 

“There,” the man said, finishing his last note. 

When he looked up there was a brief, almost imperceptible moment of shock on his face, and then he returned to his congenial self. 

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Albus responded. 

Albus suddenly felt very embarrassed. The folly of the whole thing seemed plain. He shuffled his feet. 

“I didn’t mean to bother you—” 

“Not at all,” Fawkes responded quickly, but he didn’t offer anything else, and just smiled amiably back at him. 

Staring at him, Albus took a better look at the muggle doctor. He was young, probably around Albus’s age, though he carried himself with the confidence of someone with more years. And at the same time he had managed to hold on to a kind of youthful exuberance. He had dark brown, intense eyes, framed by long eyelashes, and a thick mop of brown curls that were combed neatly in a part. Albus had the sense that he kept himself well-groomed. His hands looked soft and the nails neatly clipped. He stared back at Albus acutely, and other than the initial moment when Albus walked in, was calm and natural. Albus realized he found him rather attractive, which made him feel even more self-conscious. 

He hadn’t planned this well at all. After realizing he was staring, he broke eye-contact, and made a show of looking around. 

“Are these all of your potions?” he asked, waving his hand at the shelves full of clear bottles. 

Fawkes gave a confused, but rather more amused, laugh. 

“They’re medicines—compounds, solutions, that sort of thing.”

Albus had no idea what he meant, but was careful to hide it. He nodded as if that was a satisfactory answer. There was another painful silence, although the muggle doctor didn’t seem at all bothered. Finally, he got up from his chair. 

“How can I help you, Mister …?”

“Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore,” he said, a little too quickly.

“Mr. Dumbledore.” 

Albus stared at him, hoping the right words would spontaneously come to him. Fawkes looked on with the same polite smile on his face. 

“I realize…I realize, I was—err…rather rude the other day,” Albus said, trying to avoid eye contact. Fawkes’s smile turned into a smirk. 

“Ah,” he said. 

He didn’t say anything more, but his maddening expression seemed to say: ‘continue.’

“I may have …misjudged the situation too quickly,” Albus said. 

“Yes.” 

The muggle’s smugness was aggravating, but Albus bit his tongue. The young doctor watched him the whole time, hands in his pockets, saying nothing. There was something about his dark eyes, challenging and inviting at the same time. Albus went on. 

“I need—”

But Albus couldn’t continue. They were suddenly interrupted by a series of loud yells from outside the office door. 

“Doctor! Doctor!” 

Fawkes was already pushing past him and into the ward through the office door. Albus could see there was a large commotion through the open doorway. Nurses were running by. He walked cautiously into the ward, but made sure to hold back and not get in the way. From the corner of the room he could see things more clearly. 

Several men had entered the room, and Albus saw they were carrying another man by his arms and legs. He seemed to be gasping for air. Several nurses had already directed them to an open bed, and they were all helping the gasping man down onto the cot. The men were all shabbily dressed, and had soot covering their faces. The man on the bed seemed to be strangled from some unseen pressure. The veins of his neck bulged, and were visible across the room. 

Fawkes was quickly at the man’s side, his hands pressing about the man’s neck and chest. His face was serious and determined. The jovial, smug man Albus had been talking to moments before was gone. 

“The mine roof came down so suddenly, sir,” one of the men was telling him worriedly. “We didn’t have enough time to move before he was buried.”

“Pneumothorax,” Fawkes said to the nurse next to him. “Get the chest tube.” 

She ran over to a dresser close by, while another nurse ripped open the man’s front shirt. He was turning a deathly white. 

“What’s wrong?!” one of the men yelled at Fawkes. 

“He’s suffered a chest trauma. Air is filling his lung cavity. We need to release it.” 

As he spoke the nurse came back with a small device Albus had never seen before. It looked like a needle attached to a rubber tube. Fawkes took it from her, and began prodding the man’s chest with his fingers. Despite the hysteria of the grown men around him, he worked calmly. Albus was impressed by the focus of his eyes and hands. 

When Fawkes found the correct spot on the man’s chest, he plunged the needle into the skin. All of a sudden, the man took one huge loud breath, and his short airless gasps ceased. The jolts of his body stopped, and his muscles relaxed. He took more deep breaths, as the men around him burst into cheers. One of them shook Fawkes’s hand excitedly. Fawkes patted him on the back in return. He told the nurse next to him to continue monitoring the man, and then left the crowded bedside. He went to a sink on the other wall to rinse his hands. 

Albus had never seen anything like it. It was almost like watching a new spell be performed, but he knew he was surrounded by non-magical folk, who would have no idea what to do with a wand. He was filled with a strange feeling, and stood there silently for a few moments. 

“What did you do to him?” Albus asked as he walked up to the doctor. He was wiping his hands on a cloth by the sink. 

“Helped him breathe,” Fawkes replied nonchalantly. He could see that Albus was impressed, and wanted to learn more. 

“I inserted a thoracic catheter. A chest tube,” he explained, “between the ribs, to allow the air and blood to be evacuated from the lung cavity. We’ll monitor him for a few more days to make sure there aren’t any complications.” As he spoke, he made a few notes in a journal on the dresser nearby. Albus struggled to make sense of what he had said, but held on to every word. 

“It’s actually not accepted practice, but coal miners come in all the time with these types of injuries. My father died in a similar accident.”

Albus looked back at the man on the bed. He seemed so peaceful and restive now. He clasped hands with his congratulatory friends around him, exhausted, but content. 

“So.”

Albus looked back to see Fawkes looking at him intently. 

“Let me just grab a few supplies and we can head back to the house. Does a 7:00 o’clock dinner sound agreeable?” he asked a stunned Albus. 

Speechless, Albus gave an inelegant nod. 

***

They had walked back to the Dumbledore mansion in an uncomfortable silence, though nothing seemed to bother the muggle doctor. He acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them to be walking together. Their unpleasant interaction the other day was starting to feel like it happened to other people. The moment they walked through the front door, Albus saw Foggy disapparate quickly. Fawkes had fortunately not taken notice. 

Ariana was overjoyed to see the doctor again. Albus hadn’t seen the same glow in her eyes since they last saw Aberforth. He was once more filled with a sense of guilt. He hoped it would fade. 

This time, they ate in the dining room. Albus felt it was undignified to eat in the kitchen, and the doctor was a guest after all. The room put a stiffness into everyone’s movements. Albus was worried Fawkes would feel rather like a servant, as they waited for him to finish cooking their meal. But as the doctor walked in happily with their bowls, filled to the brim with salty-smelling stew, Albus felt more like a child, eagerly waiting to be served dinner. 

He was glad to see it was the same stew as the other day. It sparked a warm feeling inside of him, but he didn’t want to make that known to the muggle. They ate in silence, in the large stately dining room. Their quiet slurps and the ticking of the grandfather clock from the main hall were the only sound. The muggle doctor was perfectly well-mannered, and acted like he had been invited to dine at the house many times before. 

As they emptied their bowls, the tenseness in Albus’s shoulders relaxed. There was something about the muggle that put him at ease. He too started to feel like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be there. They each had seconds. 

At one point he looked over at Ariana, and was horrified to see her face had been covered by her food. She had been consuming it a little too eagerly, and it had gotten all over her mouth and nose. 

“Ariana!” he said under his breath, leaning over towards her, “clean your face this instant!”

He was anxious about what the muggle would think. He realized he was trying to impress him. Ariana looked at Albus timidly, but then looked back at the muggle and burst into laughter. Albus turned as well, and to his shock, he saw that the doctor had covered his face in red stew, which was dripping down his cheek onto his chin. He had a pleased, confident expression, as if there was nothing wrong with having stew all over his face. Ariana laughed harder. 

In spite of himself, Albus let out a laugh as well. Then, trying to increase her delight, Ariana dipped her hands into her stew and started reaching towards Albus’s face. It seemed almost unfair that his did not match theirs. 

He stopped her with his hands. 

“No, Ariana.” Giving her a look of disapproval. 

When he turned to look back at the doctor, it was already too late. His fingers were covered in stew. With one quick flick, Albus was splattered with it. Red flecks dotted his face, and some even on his clean gray suit that he had worried so long about that morning. 

In that moment, he let go. A grin soon appeared on his face, and he was quickly laughing alongside them. Ariana laughed loudest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he heard her laugh.

After they had cleaned up, and the dishes were washed, they put Ariana to bed. Fawkes sat by her side, pocket watch in hand, and measured her heartbeat. Albus watched them from the door, leaning against the frame. He had never seen Ariana so calm. She watched the doctor intently, but submitted to everything he asked. 

He put the watch away, and then took back the small thermometer that had been perched in her mouth. 

“Hmm, a bit low.” He turned back to Albus. “I would consider padding the walls of this room. Or moving her to a warmer one.” 

Albus nodded. Fawkes turned back to Ariana. He had brought a glass of water, which he had left on the nightstand. He plopped a small tablet inside which quickly started to dissolve. He gave it a little stir and then handed it to Ariana.

“This should help you sleep.”

She took it without question, and drank it slowly. Fawkes watched her until she finished. He took the glass, placed it back on the nightstand, and smiled at her. 

“Good night,” he said softly. 

She smiled back, and then pulled the covers closer to her. He got up, picked up his briefcase, and started making his way out. 

Albus grabbed hold of his arm as he passed through the door. 

“Thank you,” he said.

Tears had started to form in his eyes as he said it. He didn’t know where they had come from, but he didn’t mind if the muggle saw. 

The doctor just looked back at him with an encouraging, tender smile. He reached down and squeezed his hand. 

“It’s alright,” Fawkes said. 

Albus realized then what he had been feeling since he had met the doctor. He was feeling safe. 

The only way he could communicate it was by squeezing his hand again.

“Thank you,” Albus said again, “Doctor.”

“Please—call me Brian.” 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

Early Spring.

He could no longer tolerate Ravenna’s mocking eyes. He threw the book in front of him across the table and got up. 

“Book club’s over?” she laughed. 

He couldn’t think of something to say. All he could do was glare back at her. 

They were in the Room of Requirement, and the others watched on timidly, but then went back to their separate activities. Corvus and Noxius had long since given up attempting to be helpful with the search. They spent their days blowing each other across the room as the others poured over books. Livia spent most of her time wandering the different corridors of the castle alone, and Gellert rarely knew where she was. Griffin was the only helpful one when it came to the search, but even he wasn’t able to do much more than decipher Albus’s notes. 

And then there was Ravenna, who made a great show of reading through some maps, and then gave up quickly. She spent the rest of her time grilling Gellert, or asking about Mordred. He was sparing with his details of their benefactors.

Their last few theories had all come to nothing, and he could feel everyone getting restless. While they all could sense it, Ravenna was the only one who challenged him openly. Only their combat exercises seemed to be going well, although Gellert was starting to use them to release his anger and frustration. No one wanted to stare down his wand and face him. His fuse was growing quite short. On some days he would force them, like lining up a firing squad. Several of them had extended stays in the infirmary under their belt.

Today they were all becoming too much. 

“Everyone out!”

They all looked up, unsure what to do. 

“Everyone out now!” 

Griffin was the first to get up. He closed the book he was reading, threw it in his bag, and walked quickly to the door. The others followed soon after, giving Gellert fearful looks as they passed him. Ravenna was the last to leave. Before heading to the door, she paused a moment in front of him.

“I guess Albus really was the brains behind it all, wasn’t he?”

Gellert’s blood boiled under his skin. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it right in her face. Ravenna didn’t even react, and just gave a short laugh. 

“Let us know when you’ve figured it out,” she said, as she made her way to the door.  

Gellert was left alone in the large room. The light was fading, and the flames of the candles were starting to grow more distinct. The shadows on the walls were growing longer. Their shade deepening. 

He had been trying not to think of Albus, and he refused to ask him for help. He hadn’t responded to his last few letters anyway. Something had slipped between them. A change had happened. 

He tried to remember how it was before. In that first summer, when he had been cast away to his aunt’s home in England before his first year at Hogwarts. When he had first met Albus. That summer Albus was just the quiet boy in the flat next door. The quiet boy from the strange family, that no one ever saw. He used to sit silently in the back garden reading, and Gellert could spy him over the garden wall. He was sad and needed cheering, it seemed to Gellert. His aunt had initially told him not to go near them, but children being who they are, and lacking any other distraction, friendship was inevitable. 

When Gellert decided to leap the wall one July day, it was the true start of the summer in his memory. Albus had made Godric’s Hollow livable. And suddenly the prospect of attending Hogwarts was not as dreadful as it first seemed, knowing he would be there.  What’d he care what anyone else in Godric’s Hollow had said of the Dumbledores? Albus was his friend, and the adult world and its gossip didn’t interest him. By the end of the summer, Albus was no longer that sad, quiet boy who read in the garden. 

And then their first days at Hogwarts came, and things changed. Albus became a Gryffindor, and he a Slytherin. And it seemed like their lives were destined to go in different directions. It was odd, that first year, in his memory. He had made quick, superficial, nothing friends. Easy friends he could make and lose in a day when it suited him. Slytherin house was like that, he soon realized. There were leaders and followers, and he was decidedly a leader. But he grew bored of all of them. And when he cast them aside it only increased his popularity. 

But Albus made no friends that year. None of the Gryffindors would go near him. He would sit alone at the end of the long Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and eat in silence. It was at Hogwarts that Gellert first appreciated how notorious the Dumbledore family was. He had heard the rumors long before, in Godric’s Hollow. But at Hogwarts he really began to understand it. He began to understand the sad, lonely boy who would read alone in the garden. And then one day at the end of that year, Gellert found himself walking over to where Albus was eating, at the empty section of the Gryffindor table, and sat across from him. It was a sensational scandal. A Slytherin sitting with a Gryffindor. He didn’t know what came over him. Perhaps it was to drive the Gryffindor students mad. Or the Slytherins. Perhaps it was just to spit in the face of the school and all its rules. Or perhaps it was because he realized Albus was a friend in a way that the others were not. He would only realize in the later years how deeply Albus cared for him. It was a powerful thing, Gellert understood. Albus’s love. Something to be used carefully. But somewhere, somehow, he knew he had mangled it. 

Looking around the Room of Requirement, he felt very alone.

His anger swelled.  He pointed his wand at the tables, filled with all of their books and notes. Everything was launched into the air. Papers rained down around him and littered the floor. He turned to the bookcases next, their contents were thrown onto the walls behind him. He started to hurl curses about him. One after another. The room became alive with green flame, like bolts of lightning. Flashes of fire exploded on the stone walls leaving scars. 

Finally he screamed into the air, and dropped to his knees. Sheets of paper were still floating softly to the floor. 

The room felt desperately cold, and he had to wrap his arms around himself. He felt a sudden desire to see Albus’s face. The face Albus made when he looked up from his book. Or the face he made when Gellert came down the steps from the headmaster’s office.

The silence was interrupted by a crackling sound from the fireplace. It had been unlit all day, but suddenly embers burst alive. They quickly accumulated into a small flame, which grew by the second. He saw two dark eyes appear among the embers, and then a familiar face. 

“Hello, Grindelwald,” a voice called from the fire. 

Gellert immediately composed himself. 

“Mordred.” 

“How goes the search?”

“Nothing new since my last report.” 

Mordred didn’t respond immediately, his face was difficult to read among the flickering flames. Gellert tried not to look as uncomfortable as he was. 

“I thought you understood the importance of our mission,” Mordred said, finally.

“Of course, sir, I—”

“Then I’m not sure why you're choosing to fail me.”

His voice was hard. Gellert stalled. 

“I would never intentionally compromise the mission. We are doing everything in our power to find the weapon,” Gellert spat out frantically. 

“Perhaps this is all beyond you,” Mordred continued. “Where is Dumbledore?”

The question stung more than anything Mordred had said thus far. Gellert bit his lip. 

“Albus isn’t here.”

“What?!” 

“He had to return home to care for his sister.”

For the first time, Mordred’s face was visibly displeased. 

“That is unfortunate.” 

“We don’t need Albus,” Gellert argued. “I can lead the rest of them.” 

Mordred was not thrilled with the idea. 

“If you can’t find the weapon, you’re going to find me a secure passage into the castle. Do you think you’re capable of that?”

It was a punch to the stomach. Gellert took it.

“Of course, sir.”

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the Wold. 

Spring.

Albus dug his fingers into the dirt, and felt the cool moisture of the earth in his hands. He had never noticed the diversity of the soil, alive with insects, roots and worms. A whole world was alive beneath his feet. Brian knelt beside him, digging a small nest in the soil for the next seed, which he pulled from the bag at his side.  Albus admired the way his hands moved when he was working on some delicate task. He saw it in the hospital, when Brian was working with his patients, and here in the small garden he kept outside the window of his office. 

Albus had been joining him in the garden since the turn of the weather. It had started as a thank you for all the free meals, and the help with Ariana. But Albus realized it was turning into something he could look forward to. Each day was warmer than the last, and Albus was finding the sunlight rejuvenating. He had been a bit skittish about getting dirty at first, but once he saw Brian carelessly kneeling in the mud, he acquiesced. They had both rolled up their sleeves, and their hands were covered in dirt. Their pants were stained at the knees. Neither of them minded.  

They were getting the garden ready for the summer, and Albus was trying his hand at weeding, as Brian prepared the new seeds that wouldn't sprout for some time. Soon, Albus was told, the small seeds would be tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers; strawberries, gooseberries, and redcurrants. Albus marveled at the beauty of it all. There was a novel sense of excitement about muggle gardening. At Hogwarts, he had excelled at herbology as with most of his other classes, but he had rarely taken care of a living thing from seed to fruit. 

“I’ve found that good nutrition is some of the best medicine,” Brian said as he placed the next seed in the row, and then covered it over with earth. “There’s still so much we don’t understand about how food helps fight disease.” 

Albus nodded along. He was always surprised at how much the muggle knew. Albus was constantly learning new things when he was around him. They hadn’t said much to each other in their first few meetings alone. When they talked, it had usually been about casual, perfunctory things. How many patients Brian currently had. How Ariana was doing that day. The weather. As time wore on, they became more comfortable with each other, and Albus asked more about muggle medicine. He plied the doctor with questions about every operation and procedure. Every affliction he knew how to treat. He was fascinated.

“You seem rather young to be a doctor,” Albus observed. 

Brian was amused by the observation. 

“You may have noticed that the name on the door to my office is not my own.” 

Albus had, but he didn’t think it wise to mention. 

“It was originally my uncle’s office. My parents died when I was fairly young and my uncle took me in. He taught me everything he knew, and was able to fund my studies.”

He looked up at Albus with a wink in his eye. 

“Fortunately, I’m a fast learner.”

Albus gave a chuckle at this, as he pulled the next weed from the soil. Brian’s smile disappeared, and he furrowed his brow. 

“My uncle hasn’t been well the last few years unfortunately. He’s forgetful…loses track of things. He often talks to people that aren’t there.” 

Albus looked back at Brian. He hadn’t stopped, and was still digging away, though there was a slight tenseness in his movements. 

“It was decided that he was unfit to continue practicing medicine. But there wasn’t anyone to fill his shoes, and the clinic was in danger of being shut down … so I stepped in. On paper my uncle still runs the place, though that hasn’t been true for some time.” 

The shadow over his face faded and he continued his work, though he seemed more pensive than before. 

“Did he teach you to cook as well?” Albus asked. 

“No—my mother did,” Brian said, his smile returning.

In recent weeks, Brian had casually shared various details about his past, but Albus never reciprocated. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement never to venture there, though he could feel that Brian was making space for him to speak. The doctor respected the boundaries. He never asked about the origins of Ariana’s condition, only inquiring about her symptoms, and Albus never shared more than he had to. 

And yet, kneeling there in the dirt, Albus felt a change take place. There was something about the sunlight hitting the garden at that moment. He could feel icy walls being melted away. 

“My mother died recently,” Albus found himself saying, all of a sudden. 

He didn’t know where it had come from, but somehow it had just seemed like the natural response to Brian’s confession. They both stopped. 

“I’m sorry,” Brian said. 

His sympathetic look pushed Albus to continue. 

“That’s why we’re here …my mother had been taking care of Ariana, when she … I wasn’t very involved.” 

Brian kept silent, but there was no judgment in his eyes, just encouragement to speak. Albus looked at his dirt covered hands. He felt like everything was about to pour out of him into the topsoil. 

“I’ve been feeling a bit like a failure ever since we came here. Everything I do seems to backfire with her. I thought the familiarity of the house would help, but—it just feels so … cold.” 

All of the wretched things he had been feeling for months were brimming on the surface. And yet there was a tremendous relief in saying them aloud. Like they were nothing more than words, which he could let go with the breeze. 

“You’re not failing her.” 

Albus looked at him. His eyes were gentle and compassionate. 

“You’re doing your best.” 

Albus took a deep breath, and pushed his fingers back into the dirt. Something about the feel of the earth in his hands calmed him. They went back to their tasks, feeling lighter. 

***

Blossoms had started to appear in the trees, and Brian suggested they have a picnic. It had long been warm enough, and he recommended Ariana spend as much time outdoors as possible. She had grown fond of the horse, Oscar, and liked to adorn his mane with the sprouting flowers that now covered the valley. Albus and Brian watched her from the blanket, which they had laid in the grass with the basket and cutlery. There were cheese and fruits, and Brian had brought a bottle of wine. They were on the lawn surrounding the house. Albus didn’t want to venture too far in case Ariana needed to rest. She pranced around with the horse, mimicking his hooves with her feet. 

“I’ve been reading that book you gave me.” 

“Really?” Brian asked, happily surprised. 

“It’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve read anything more beautiful.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never heard of Charlotte Brontë.”

Albus felt a bit self-conscious. 

“There’s another I think you might like,” Brian continued, looking at Albus with a smirk, “ Great Expectations . The main character reminds me of you somewhat.”

Albus blushed, though he didn’t know what Brian meant. 

“Is that another Brontë novel?” Albus asked.

“Of course not! Charles Dickens!” Brian exclaimed, flabbergasted. “You’ve had to have heard of Charles Dickens?!”

Though Albus was thoroughly embarrassed, he could tell Brian wasn’t taking it too seriously. 

“I guess—I typically don’t read things like that.” 

“What do you typically read?” Brian asked. 

His question was innocent, but Albus had recently been feeling the pressure of his inquiries. They had been spending more and more time together. And the muggle doctor was now at the house every other day. Each morning Albus would wake, and wonder if today he would come. And if he didn’t, Albus would usually find himself walking to the village to see him. But he knew there was always a danger. He preferred long walks through the grounds with the doctor, so that Foggy didn’t have to hide himself for so long, and could tend to Ariana. 

As he became more familiar, Brian now regularly asked questions that Albus didn’t know how to answer. He was typically able to brush it off, and misdirect him. Brian never seemed to be suspicious. But it was becoming increasingly hard to conceal the truth. Albus often found himself biting his tongue.

He knew it would be wise to cut him off now. Send him back to the muggle world, and avoid any exposure. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had come to rely on the doctor’s visits—the meals together, the long conversations, the walks through the forest. And he knew, if he was being honest with himself, that he really did want to tell him everything. The truth about his world, and himself. About magic, and Hogwarts. About his work. About Ariana. He wanted to tell him about Gellert. He wanted to tell him things he hadn’t really told himself. 

“Oh, just academic reading really,” Albus said. 

Brian seemed content with that response and looked back at Ariana. She was running her hands across Oscar’s white coat. She seemed perfectly happy. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” Brian said softly. 

Albus had to fight back a sudden rush of tears when Brian said it. It felt so undeserved. She should have so much more.

“She much prefers my brother,” Albus responded. He tried to sound nonchalant about it. 

“I don’t think so,” Brian said confidently, locking eyes with him. 

Albus tried to shift. 

“Do you have any siblings?” 

There was a pause, and Albus found himself feeling odd when he asked the question, though he didn’t know why. 

“I had a brother. He died—a long time ago.” 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” Albus said meekly. 

He realized Brian was looking at him intently. There seemed to be so much in his eyes that Albus couldn’t place. He desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. 

“Do you ever feel lonely?” Brian asked all of a sudden. 

Despite the abruptness of the question, Albus realized he had a ready answer. 

“I think I have been for far longer than I care to admit.”

“Me too.” 

They looked at each other for a long while, and there was a silence, but it wasn’t awkward or unpleasant. Something felt changed between them, but Albus didn’t know what. He didn’t mind it. They enjoyed the sunshine.

“You never told me the origins of Ariana’s condition.”

Across the golden field, still hidden amid the grass, the snake appeared. A simple, green garden snake. It slithered through the cracks of the low wall, and slowly headed for the center of the plain. 

On the blanket, Albus’s skin went cold. He realized he had taken down too many of his walls. There was no more defense. He felt very exposed. 

Check. 

“It was a childhood accident…when we were very young.”

In the middle of the yard, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she could feel a strange sensation in the air. She stopped running her hand through the horse’s hair, and dropped her hands to her sides. The field was empty. Only the tall grass waving in the wind. 

“Why did you leave the village?” Brian asked.

The intensity of his stare was overwhelming. A hardness that hadn’t been there before. Albus was fumbling for his words. He looked back at Ariana, who had stopped petting Oscar, and was standing still in the grass. 

“For Ariana.” 

The snake was midway towards them. It stopped to feel the vibrations of the earth, but then continued towards the center of the field. 

“Albus…where is your father?” 

Albus felt something twist violently deep inside him. A memory buried under so much sand. There was the long stone wall. The one that ran along the forest path. Brian’s eyes staring into him. 

“No!”

Check mate.

Suddenly Ariana screamed, and Oscar leapt up. They heard the sound of thunder, and felt the earth rumble. 

“Ariana!” 

They ran to her. She was lying on the ground, convulsing. Foam was dripping from her mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head. 

“Let’s get her to the house,” Brian yelled. “Hurry!” 

Somewhere, the snake was slithering away.

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

They pushed their way through the front door, and quickly headed across the main hall to the stairs. Ariana hung between them. Her body was still writhing about, and the seizure only seemed to be getting worse. Albus could see Foggy out of the corner of his eye, crouching by the entrance to the drawing room. They made their way up the staircase, and down the hallway to Ariana’s bedroom. Brian kicked open the door, and they laid her onto the bed.

“Hold her down,” he commanded Albus, and then ran to get his bag. He was pulling out a vial with a syringe when it happened. 

A great force shot outwards from the bed and threw them both against the walls. Ariana’s mouth fell open in a soundless scream as sparks began to shoot out from her skin. They seemed to leap out of her veins. Suddenly, every object in the room began to float in the air. The nightstand and lamp, the dressers and chairs, all began to rise. Albus and Brian felt themselves being lifted up. 

Albus summoned all of his strength, and threw himself onto the bed. His weight pressed into Ariana’s body.

“No, Ariana!” 

Her mouth clamped shut, and everything crashed back to the floor with a thud. 

All of a sudden, Foggy burst into the room.

“Miss Ariana! Miss Ariana!” 

The house elf ran to the bedside and grabbed ahold of her hand. 

“Come back to us, Miss Ariana!” 

Ariana gave one last convulsion. They felt a rumble go through the floor, and the entire house shook. 

And then it was over. 

Ariana’s eyes closed, and she drifted into a fretful sleep. Albus could feel her heartbeat slowing beneath his own. He looked over at Brian. He was still collapsed on the floor by the wall. His eyes wide in shock. 

“Brian,” Albus called. 

But before Albus could reach him, he was up, running for the door. By the time Albus made it to the hallway, Brian was stumbling frantically down the stairs, almost tripping over himself as he looked back. 

And then, just as he was reaching the last step, an obstacle fell into his path. The old grandfather clock teetered, and began to fall. It had been shaken by the tremors that had run through the house from Ariana’s fit, and finally lost balance. The great ten foot clock tipped, and fell straightforward, blocking the bottom of the staircase. It smashed into the floor, shards of the glass face scattering across the marble. 

Brian stopped in his tracks. Albus called out to him from the bannister, and he looked back up the stairs. 

Slowly, Albus pulled his wand from his pocket. Brian was frozen in fear. Trying to keep his movements steady, Albus waved his wand in a gentle motion. The great clock bellowed, and lumbered back upwards. The shards of the shattered glass face slid back across the floor, jumping into the air. All of the broken pieces seemed to come together at once, and the clock started ringing before its hands were even in place. 

Dong!

Brian looked back up at him. His face was even more terrified than before. His trembling hand reached for the railing, and then he stumbled down the rest of the stairs to the marble floor. 

Dong!

“Brian, wait!”

He couldn’t catch up in time. When Albus reached the terrace, he saw Brian jump onto Oscar and gallop swiftly away. He didn’t look back. 

Dong!

***

They were riding so fast Brian could feel his ears ringing. Oscar’s hooves beat hard against the ground as they flew by. Brian kicked again against the horse's hind legs, and he whinnied fearfully. The wind was burning his eyes. 

It reminded him of those long furious rides when he was younger. When he was morose or frustrated with the world. He would jump onto Oscar’s back, ride as fast as he could through the countryside, and forget. 

But he couldn’t forget. 

“Stop!” 

He pulled hard on the reins, and Oscar reared up. Brian thought he might be thrown off. He held tightly to the saddle, as the horse came back down hard. 

He could feel his heart beat in every muscle of his body, and it took several moments for him to regain his breath. He looked about him. He had stopped at the part of the path where forest lay on both sides. It was getting dark. Wind moved through the trees, rustling the branches in parts. Slowly at first, and then building. It crescendoed outwards, and then it died away. It was only wind, but it disturbed him nevertheless. Everything about the forest disturbed him. Like ghosts in the leaves. And he hated it. He hated the fact that, even after all these years, he was still afraid of the woods. 

He had spent a long time trying to forget, though he knew he would have to confront the memory at some point. He knew it the moment he met her, that day in the village, after the carriage accident. He knew it as he walked up to the house with her at his side. In spite of all the fears, he had walked in willingly. This dark dream was of his own making. 

And then there was the boy again. All grown up, and exactly the same as before. 

And if he hadn’t come to the clinic after, and knocked on his office door, none of this would have happened, and Brian could have gone on living his life as before. He had seen what he had come to see, and he could forget about the dark house at the edge of the woods. He could have let it go. Or so he had told himself. But then there he was, peering through his office door. Against all the odds. There had been something in his face. His sad eyes, that were begging for help. Brian knew he had already lost.

He looked back into the wood, and the disturbing movement of the leaves. He couldn’t see more than a few yards into the undergrowth. He seemed to be waiting for someone to appear between the branches. A tall man, his face covered in shadow. 

Brian closed his eyes, and saw the flashes of green again. They painted the sky. But when he opened his eyes he saw nothing. He was alone. 

He looked back down the path from where he had come. 

***

Albus stood there on the steps of the terrace, and watched him ride away. When Brian was out of sight, he started to feel his muscles weaken, and his entire body became overcome with fatigue. 

He sat down on the stone steps, and put his head in his hands. Tears came to his eyes, and this time he couldn’t hold them back. He choked out a sob, and he wrapped his arms around himself. The unbearable isolation that he had endured all winter, that had faded in the weeks since the muggle doctor had entered their lives, suddenly came rushing back. But now it felt final. Inevitable. When Brian had disappeared on the horizon, it had felt like the sound of cell doors clamping irrevocably shut. 

The night was setting in, and he felt cold. But he didn’t want to go back inside. He looked at his wand. It had never felt so useless. 

“Master Albus?”

Albus turned, and saw Foggy peep his head through the door. Albus turned away quickly so the elf wouldn’t see his tears. 

“Yes, Foggy?” 

“Miss Ariana is asleep,” the elf said.

“Very good, Foggy.” 

Albus tried to mask the shaking of his voice.

“Will Master Albus be needing anything else?”

“No—that’s alright, Foggy.”

The house elf remained silent for a long while, and Albus thought he had gone back inside. But then he felt a small hand on his shoulder. It pressed against him tenderly. Albus didn’t look back. They stayed that way for a moment, until he felt the house elf let him go and head back inside the house. Albus was alone again. The breeze moving through the trees, which had been warm earlier that day, brought a chill with it now.

And then, out of the darkness, he heard the slow rhythm of hoof-falls on the path. A sound he knew well. Gradually, they emerged out of the shadows. The white horse and its rider. 

His face was still apprehensive, still fearful to approach, but Brian had regained his composure. He was determined. From atop Oscar, he looked like a soldier, taking a deep breath before the battle. 

Albus’s face was tear-stained and red, and he looked back at him with astonishment. It was a long time before anyone spoke.

“You’re a wizard,” Brian said. 

It was not a question, so much as a statement. But it begged for confirmation. All Albus could do was nod slightly.

“That—” Brian said, pointing to Albus’s hands, “—that is a wand.” 

There was still so much anxiety in his voice, and yet Albus felt like Brian was commanding him to speak. He still hadn’t come down from the horse. 

“Yes,” he managed softly. He sniffled again, and tried to wipe his face. 

He felt a change in Brian’s face then. Anguish replaced the fear. And Albus saw his eyes grow wet. 

“My brother—” his voice was breaking. “My brother attacked Ariana didn’t he? That was the accident? That’s why she is this way?” 

Albus couldn’t manage any words in response, but the tears were appearing anew on his cheeks. It was all the confirmation that Brian needed. 

“Did your father kill my brother?” 

His voice was barely above a whisper. Albus could tell it had taken all of his strength. Albus clasped his hand to his mouth to muffle a sob. He had to close his eyes in order to nod. When he opened them, he saw Brian was crying soundlessly. He was looking up at the sky. Stars were beginning to appear. 

“Where is he now?”

“In Azkaban—a wizard prison.” 

This came as a surprise to Brian. 

“They arrested him?” he asked. 

“Murder is murder, for wizards and muggles alike.”

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Albus watched the tears on Brian’s cheeks dry in the cold. They both looked at each other intently. 

“Follow me,” Brian said, finally. 

Before Albus could respond, Brian turned Oscar around and started trotting back towards the village. Albus had just enough time to summon his coat through the open door of the house before running after them. 

***

The clinic was almost empty when they entered it. Albus had never been there at nighttime. The few occupants on the beds were mostly asleep. There was one night nurse, folding bed sheets silently in the corner. 

Brian hadn’t said a word the entire way there, and he had hardly even looked at Albus. He walked swiftly onward, down to the end of the ward. There was a bed at the end that was surrounded by tall curtains. Albus could see the light of a lamp inside. Against the adjacent wall from the bed, a middle-aged man and a woman slept sitting up in their chairs. 

Brian marched right towards the bed, and pulled open the curtains. In the bed was a young girl, no more than six or seven years old, fast asleep. She had golden blond hair, and held a small doll at her side. As they came closer, Albus could hear that her breath was raspy and weak. 

Brian pulled the curtains closed behind them. There was just enough room between the bed and the curtain for them to stand. Brian approached the bed and carefully put two fingers against the girl’s neck, just below the jawline.

“We don’t have long,” he said. 

He turned back to Albus. 

“The problem is in her lungs. The disease has progressed beyond my ability to treat. She won’t last till morning.” 

His voice was direct and imperative. Albus was speechless.

“Can you help her?” 

Albus took a step backward. Brian’s eyes were hard, his words unyielding. 

“Can you help her?” he asked again, raising his voice slightly. 

The girl remained asleep and undisturbed on the bed beside him. Albus could hear her breath straining. 

“This goes against all of our laws concerning—”

“I don’t care about your laws,” Brian said, cutting him off. “Can you help her?” he repeated. 

This time he could hear the desperation in his voice. 

With a shaking hand, Albus reached into his coat pocket. The small vial was there, as he knew it would be. He had been keeping small amounts around, carrying them on his person—mostly as a reminder of his accomplishments. He never intended to actually use it. He hadn’t tried this application on a person before, but he knew they had a strong chance. A chance he knew Brian was more than willing to take, despite the risks. 

Albus held the small vial up to the light of the lamp, and shook the red liquid inside. 

“There should be enough,” he said. 

Brian removed the pillow from the girl's head gently and lowered her so that she was more level, as Albus uncorked the vial. Carefully, Albus leaned over the bed, and pushed her chin down so that her mouth hung open slightly. He could hear her rasping breaths more clearly up close. He hesitated a moment, before delicately emptying the vial down between her lips. 

Pulling out his wand, he tracked the progression of the liquid and directed it to her lungs. Suddenly the girl took one deep, clear breath. Her eyes fluttered open. They were green. 

She looked around her curiously, and spoke. 

“Doctor Fawkes?”

Brian laughed, though Albus could see his eyes were wet again. 

“Anna?!” 

They turned at the sound of an excited voice from outside. The curtains were pulled back, and the couple Albus had seen asleep outside burst in. 

“Anna!” the woman yelled again joyously. 

They rushed to her bedside, and Brian and Albus quickly made room. The man put his hand on the girl’s forehead. She smiled at them. 

Albus watched the scene, as the parents embraced the child and yelled praises excitedly. They were barely aware of his existence. 

He felt overcome by a strange feeling. His knowledge had been praised countless times before, but it had never felt truly important until now. Almost everyone in his life had congratulated him when his paper had been published, and yet it paled in comparison to the way he felt in this moment. The parents had no idea how the child had been saved, and yet it didn’t matter. He didn’t care if they knew or not. A warmth spread through his chest, and moved throughout his body.

He didn’t want to intrude on the private moment any longer, and was turning to go, when he felt a hand pull at his arm. 

He looked up to see Brian, his eyes filled with tears. 

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

The tall trees all but blocked out any light from the nighttime sky, and they relied on the dull brightness of their wands to see. A low mist drifted through the trunks, and they could not peer more than a few yards ahead.

“Just a bit farther,” Gellert said. 

None of them had any real experience exploring the Dark Forest, except for Gellert. They relied on his knowledge to navigate deeper into the dreaded wood. They jumped over a large root, and entered an open area a bit lower than the surrounding terrain. They scanned about them for anything in sight. 

“Are you sure we can trust these halfbreeds?” Livia asked. 

“Albus said they were the only ones who practiced divination successfully. They’re our last chance.” 

They waited silently in the dark for a long time. Noxius began digging into the ground with his foot. It was the only sound. They seemed totally alone. 

Suddenly, they began to feel the rumble of the earth beneath their feet. The leaves of the trees started to shake. They bunched up together in a circle, their wands pointed outward defensively in every direction. They heard the yells of men in the distance. 

All of a sudden, the herd burst out from the underbrush. Their hooves pounded the ground, and they yelled and hooted at them. In the darkness, Gellert couldn’t make out any of their faces. They surrounded the terrified students. Gellert kept his wand steady. Several of the centaurs had bows and arrows slung around their shoulders. He knew they could be deadly if provoked. 

Their pace slowed to a trot as they circled them, and it became quiet again. Each side held their ground. One of the centaurs came forward. He had a thick beard, and dark matted hair. He looked at the Hogwarts students with their raised wands and was not impressed. 

“You are Grindelwald.” 

His voice was deep, and echoed through the forest. 

“Yes,” Gellert said, coming forward. “You’re Llamrei?” 

The centaur ignored the question, and responded with his own. 

“You brought what we discussed?” 

Gellert threw the bag at his side onto the ground in front of him. The private stores of Professor Privet had been well-raided. There would be hell to pay later, but he could handle it. 

One of the other centaurs came forward and picked up the heavy bag from the ground. He gave one look inside, and then made a quick nod to the one who had spoken. 

“Tell us what we want to know,” Gellert said assertively, before either of the centaurs could speak.

“And what would that be?” Llamrei said. 

There was an amusement in the centaur’s deep voice. Like he was speaking with a child. 

“Tell us of the weapon.” 

“What about it?” 

“Does it exist?!” Ravenna yelled impatiently. 

The centaur looked down at her. 

“Yes … not that it will be of much use to you.” 

Gellert was immediately emboldened by the centaur’s confirmation. His deepest fear was dispelled. It did indeed exist. 

“We already know only mudbloods can use the weapon. We don’t want to use it, we want to destroy it,” Gellert said. 

They could hear one of the other centaurs snicker behind them. 

“Is that it?” the leader said with a maddening smile. 

“Where is it?!” Gellert was getting impatient too. He hated having to deal with these beasts. They had asked for a steep price, and now they were playing with them. 

“We do not know. It’s location has been hidden, even from the stars.” 

Gellert raised his wand higher. This was not what they had agreed upon. 

“You should ask your friend,” another centaur called behind them, “Dumbledore.” 

Gellert spun around to look for the voice. He couldn’t see which of the other centaurs had spoken. He hated the grating, smug tone with which he had said it. He pointed his wand accusingly at each of them. 

“Hengeron!” Llamrei said disapprovingly, though they didn’t know which centaur he was referring to. Gellert turned back to him. 

“Albus doesn’t know anything more than we do. He told me so himself,” Gellert said angrily. 

The centaur looked down at him. In the half-glow of his wand, it almost looked like he pitied him. 

“Not him. It’s the other—the girl.”

Gellert had to take a moment to grasp what he was saying. 

“Ariana?” Gellert asked. 

“Yes.”

“She’s nothing more than a half-wit.” 

“Her magic is very powerful,” the centaur said, ignoring him. “She was given a vision of the weapon long ago. Only she knows where it is hidden.” 

“That can’t be…” Gellert said. 

It was impossible. Nothing was making any sense. But even in the soft light of his wand he could see: there was no lie in the eyes of the centaur. 

“Gellert,” Ravenna said beside him. “We need to find Albus—now.” 

But he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. 

“Let’s go,” Gellert barked to the others. 

“Be careful, boy.” 

Gellert looked back up at the centaur. He peered down at him intently, with the same pitying look. 

“You are not prepared for the end of this road.” 

***

Gellert strode quickly into the courtyard, pushing past several third year Hufflepuffs along the way. One of them dropped their books onto the ground. He didn’t look back as they yelled at him. 

The sun was bright overhead, and the yard was full of students, enjoying the afternoon between classes. His eyes were sensitive to the light. He hadn’t slept the night before, and the light of the sun was intense.

Gellert scanned the courtyard, looking for him. He knew he usually hung around here about this time, with a few of his other Gryffindor friends. Gellert found him leaning against a tree at the other end of the yard. He was standing in a group, but didn’t seem to be interested in their conversation. Within moments he had locked eyes with Gellert, and gave him a deathly stare. 

“You!” Gellert called across the yard. “Aberforth!” 

Aberforth didn’t respond, but he stopped leaning against the tree. He watched coolly as Gellert made his way across the yard. The other Gryffindor boys cut their conversation short as he approached. Everyone waited expectantly.

“Aberforth!” Gellert called again as he came closer. He started speaking frantically, faster than his thoughts. 

“Your sister—her illness. What was the cause?” 

“What?!” 

It was obviously not what Aberforth was expecting. Gellert grabbed hold of his arms. 

“Did she ever have visions? Or unexplained powers?!” 

Aberforth pushed him off. 

“Get away from me you snake!” he spat at him. “What is my sister to you?!” 

Gellert didn’t answer. 

“Huh?!” Aberforth yelled, challenging him. 

When Gellert didn’t respond, Aberforth reached for his wand. Everyone in the crowded courtyard went silent and watched them. Aberforth pushed his wand into Gellert’s face. 

“You’re always playing everyone, aren’t you?” Aberforth said, in a lowered voice. 

Gellert kept silent, returning his gaze coolly. 

“It’s always just another game with you—I know what you are. You listen to me, you slithery bastard. You may have Albus, but not me. You stay away from my family—you understand?!” 

Once he was finished, he grabbed his bag and strode out of the courtyard. As he left, everyone’s eyes turned back to Gellert. 

Gellert felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Ravenna. 

“I don’t think that was wise,” she said. 

He knew she was right. 

“Do we go after Albus?” she asked. 

He dreaded the thought of seeing Albus again, and having to ask him for help. It seemed that no matter how hard Gellert tried, everything went back to him. His letters had stopped coming recently. Gellert wasn’t sure why. There were too many questions.

And now everything rested on the crazy Dumbledore girl that was attacked all those years ago. Who didn’t know where she was, let alone the location of the muggle-born weapon. An imbecile. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He knew they had to come up with a plan. They were running out of time. 

“We can’t just show up and take her,” Gellert said. “And I don’t want to have to explain everything to Albus.” 

“Then, what should we do?” 

“There’s someone I need to see.”

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

By the time they returned to the mansion, the sun was rising. The air smelled of morning dew. Brian hesitated on the terrace steps, and looked up apprehensively at the tall stone walls of the house. 

“You’ve been here many times before,” Albus said, giving him an encouraging squeeze on the arm. 

“That was before I knew it was enchanted,” Brian said defensively. 

Albus laughed.

“Come on,” he said, as he grabbed hold of Brian’s hand, and pulled him up the steps to the front door. “The house already likes you. You’ll be fine.” 

Brian wondered what exactly Albus meant, as he was pulled through the front door. The main hall was the same as it had been, dark and magisterial. Brian looked around him, and stared anxiously at the grandfather clock by the wall. 

“Doctor Fawkes?” Ariana’s weak voice called from the bannister. 

She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she sounded very tired, but she was more herself again. When she saw Brian she immediately smiled, and ran down the steps towards them. 

“Hello, Ariana,” Brian said. 

She ran into his arms, and embraced him. It calmed some of the disquiet in his heart. 

“I knew you would come back,” she said. 

Brian blushed at this, and didn’t know what to say. 

“Foggy?” Albus called out, “The gig is up. You can come out now too!” 

They all waited a moment, and looked around at the many corridors and rooms that led into the main hall. It was hard to see down each passageway into the shadows. Then, Albus saw two curious, bright eyes appear from behind the door that led to the north hallway. 

Brian gasped softly, but clapped a hand to his mouth. 

“It’s alright Foggy,” Albus called. “Would you like to meet Doctor Fawkes?” 

Albus walked slowly across the hall, and reached out his hand. Foggy took his first hesitant step into the room, even more afraid than Brian was. 

“Come now,” Albus said with a gentle wave of his hand. 

Slowly, the terrified house elf waddled over to them. 

“Hello, Doctor Fawkes,” he said finally, his body trembling as he gave a deep bow. 

Brian couldn’t respond for a moment, but then he knelt down, and reached out his hand.

“How do you do?” 

Foggy had never been treated so politely by any of the humans he had met before. He looked at Brian’s hand with shock. Albus wasn't sure if Foggy had ever shaken someone’s hand before. But then, to everyone’s surprise, Foggy reached out and grasped Brian’s hand, shaking it in a quick, frantic motion. Brian was visibly startled, but maintained his composure. Albus and Ariana watched on, with smiles on their faces. 

“Foggy is honored to meet you, Sir—Doctor,” the house elf said, becoming more confident. 

“Well, Foggy,” Brian said as they dropped hands, “I think it's about time that we brighten up this house a little. What do you say?” 

It was the house elf’s most fervent dream, and he yelped gleefully. Ariana also clasped her hands together with excitement. Albus couldn’t refuse. 

And so the next few weeks were devoted to the complete overhaul and renovation of the Dumbledore mansion. All of the white sheets, which had been draped over every surface were pulled off, one by one, to reveal the armchairs, tables, and paintings underneath. Portraits that had been slumbering for years had to be coaxed awake. For a time, the house was filled with the sound of paintings yawning. All the windows in the house were thrown open, and light and air streamed through the dark hallways. The dust was beaten out of all the rugs and tapestries, and then blown away with the wind.

Foggy was allowed free reign, and used the opportunity to polish to perfection every last piece of silver and china in the mansion. Several pieces of furniture had to be repaired, and Albus turned himself to woodworking. Ariana was tasked with collecting bouquets of wildflowers for the near hundreds of empty vases in every room. Suddenly the house was awash with color. She enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the activity, and was delighted to be able to take part in the work. The old weed-filled conservatory was opened up, and Albus and Brian helped clear away the remains of dead plants. It was given a second life, and became her sanctuary. Albus had never seen Ariana in better spirits, and was surprised to find how hardworking and focused she was when given specific tasks. She needed almost no supervision, and could go about her business on her own. 

Brian had identified rooms that needed to be inspected for mold and mildew. Apparently he had been keeping a running list for a while. Bright mushrooms had been found in several of the guest bedrooms that hadn’t been used even in the old days. An old stable was discovered attached to the house that was fixed up and filled with hay. It became a home for Oscar during Brian’s long stays. They were all ecstatic when they found that the piano still worked in the forgotten music room, which Albus set about repairing and tuning. A small concert was planned for when the room was ready, and the house completely prepared. Though magic helped them, Albus found he used his hands as often as his wand. There was a pleasure to the work, like the way he felt when he was tending to Brian’s garden. He loved to see his hands darkened with dust and dirt at the end of the day. 

By the third week, the house was almost totally transformed. It stunned Albus to see it like it had been in the old days. There were entire sections of the mansion that he had forgotten about, and for a time many memories returned to him. But he found, despite his initial fear, that they didn’t cause him pain. He reveled in reminiscing, and the house felt alive again. He could almost hear his mother’s footsteps walking down the hallways. He marveled at the small details that seemed to recall memory after memory. A chest in the attic, filled with the costumes from their childhood plays. A burn mark on the wallpaper when he chased Aberforth with a sparkling candle. The grand fireplace in the salon, where he remembered his father often lingered, lost in contemplation. He rubbed his hands across the mantle, mimicking the pose from his memory. He noticed a phoenix, carved into the wood that he had never noticed before. It rose out of the ashes. 

He was going to move the family portrait out of sight in some basement hideaway. But when the time came to polish the frame, and decide what to do with it, he pulled away the white sheet to reveal a different painting. His father’s face, which had so haunted him before, was changed. It had no anger or malice in it. His clear eyes looked straight ahead, stoically, and Albus found it didn’t make him uneasy to look upon it. The portrait was left in its place. 

One day, Brian found a cobweb-filled closet. 

“Look what I found!” he said excitedly, as he walked into the music room where Albus had been tuning the piano. “I can’t believe this house actually has something to clean with!” 

Albus smirked when he saw what Brian held in his hands. 

“That’s not for cleaning.” 

***

Though clouds dotted the sky, the day was warm. The sunlight felt glorious on their skin, and made the tall grasses in the field gleam like gold. They were able to leave their jackets in the house, and their sleeves were rolled up. Brian was expectant. 

Albus let go of the old wooden broom in his hand. Rather than drop to the ground, it floated in mid-air. 

Brian gasped, but there was far more excitement than fear on his face now. Albus was pleased. 

“So you just…straddle it? Like a horse?” 

Albus had never ridden a horse before, so he wasn’t sure, but the analogy seemed to fit. The old broom hadn’t been used in ages. The wood on the handle and the bristles were clearly showing their age. Still, it was large and sturdy. 

Albus grasped the handle, and then threw one leg over the broom. Slowly, the broom rose and his feet left the ground. Brian was speechless. Once he was above Brian’s head, Albus pressed the broom forward, and he sped up. He did a loop around the house, Brian watching from the ground, and then he circled back down to him. 

“Amazing!” Brian exclaimed when Albus lowered down again. 

Albus hadn’t seen Brian this way before. The look on his face reminded Albus of a child’s, waking up on Christmas morning. It made him laugh. It was thrilling to see him so excited. Brian was usually so in control and confident in himself. But as he watched Albus touch back down on the ground, the self-assured doctor was replaced by someone else. 

Without getting off the broom, Albus reached out his hand. 

Fear returned quickly to Brian’s face, and he backed away. 

“No—I can’t.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Albus said encouragingly. “I’ll be with you the whole time.” 

Brian stood there for a moment, pulling at his hands. But as he looked back at Albus’s eyes, something changed in his face. Albus could see him pushing away his fear. 

He stepped towards the broom, and grabbed hold of Albus’s waiting hand. He lifted one leg over the lowered broom, and grasped the handle with both hands. He settled himself in front of Albus, with his back pressed against Albus’s chest. He could feel Brian’s hands trembling on the wood, and he tried to steady him with his body. He reached in front of Brian, and grabbed hold of the handle. 

“Hold on tight,” he whispered into Brian’s ear. 

His feet pushed into the ground. And then, they were in the air. 

Brian couldn’t contain a panicked yell, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut. Albus could feel his heartbeat racing through his shirt, as they rose higher and higher. They picked up some speed, and soared high above the house. Below, its towers, chimneys and statues looked like a chessboard. Ariana and Oscar were playing in the fields, and she waved up at them from the ground. 

Suddenly, Albus heard Brian laugh. He looked back at him with a wild smile on his face. Albus pushed the broom down, and they sped lower towards the ground, the wind funneling up against them. As they approached the ground, Albus leveled up so that their feet were just brushing the stalks of the tall grass. It felt like they were sailing on an ocean of gold. Oscar galloped up parallel to them, and matched their speed for a time, before they sped ahead, and then up into the sky. 

The leaves of the trees swayed wildly in their wake as they made their way ever upward. Albus felt like he was ten again, flying away with no thoughts of looking back. All the things that seemed to weigh him down were thrown off and left behind.

They lost track of time, and had traveled far before either of them realized it. Fields of green spread out before them, and they could see rivers and mountains in the distance. 

“There’s something I want to show you,” Albus said loudly over the wind. 

He knew, if they were traveling at the right speed, they could make it there in another half an hour or so of flying. Brian nodded fervently his consent. 

Before long, Albus saw the familiar train tracks. 

“It’s not far now. Just a few more miles.” 

And then, just over the next ridge, the great towers of Hogwarts poked out of the clouds. 

“There! There! Do you see it?!” Albus yelled excitedly, pointing at the castle, which was glowing in the afternoon light of the sun. 

“I don’t see anything,” Brian responded. 

Albus could feel a hint of dejection in his voice. He had completely forgotten about the charms surrounding the castle, which kept it from muggle detection. 

“Here,” he whispered in Brian’s ear, as he pulled out his wand. “Look closer.” 

He held the tip of his wand to Brian’s temple, and waited. At first, nothing happened. But then the dense mists that had clouded Brian’s vision were slowly pulled back over the battlements, and the massive facade of the castle started to come into full view. The clouds were dragged away through the towers, as if they were being ripped through a mountain, and the immensity of the school was revealed to him. 

“Oh my God,” he said in a low voice. 

Albus watched Brian’s eyes go wide as he took in the view of it. The castle was perfectly lit by the high sun, and every turret and passageway glittered in the light. It felt as if he too were seeing it for the very first time, and Albus remembered the thrill he had felt, all those years ago, as he stepped off the train and took it in. And yet, gazing at it now with Brian in front of him, it seemed more glorious than before. Better than his memory. He had never seen Hogwarts look so magnificent. 

They flew closer, and then suddenly they were in it. The castle surrounding them. They soon found themselves flying over stone bridges and courtyards. Students were milling about, and looked up at them, shielding their eyes from the sun. Albus started to point out different areas: Gryffindor tower, the Great Hall, the greenhouses. In the distance they could see the Quidditch field, where several teams were taking the warm afternoon to practice. They waved when they caught sight of them. Brian waved back. He was smiling the whole time.

Albus flew fast down the walls of the main tower, accelerating, and then leveled off once they reached the shores of the Black Lake. They flew just a few yards above the clear water, and saw their reflection dance in the ripples. There were little islands up ahead, their trees blowing gently with the wind. 

Brian let go of the broom handle, and started to lift up his arms slowly, raising them up like the sails of a mast. His arms extended out from him as if they were bird wings. He laughed into the air, and Albus rested his chin on his shoulder. He felt a completeness like nothing he had ever felt before. 

A sudden gust of wind caused them to drop unexpectedly, and Brian’s hands shot back to the broom to catch himself, his fingers wrapping around Albus’s. In the same moment, Albus wrapped his free arm around Brian’s body, and held it there tightly.

“I’ve got you.”

Brian looked back into Albus’s eyes. Half his face was glowing from the sun ahead of them, the other half was in shadow. There was no fear in his face, nor was he laughing as before. There was something else there that Albus could not put into words, but felt nevertheless. They did not speak, but just looked at each other deeply, as they flew over the lake. 

Finally, the sun disappeared behind a cloud, and Brian looked back ahead of them. They flew on into the horizon, and began their slow journey back to the house.

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold.

Albus watched Ariana drink the entirety of the glass of water he had given her. When she was finished, he took it back and she settled into the bed, resting her head down on the pillow. He put the glass on the nightstand, and then pulled the knit blanket up to her chin. She watched him with a soft smile on her face. She had a look that made it seem like she knew something he did not. It reminded him of how she had looked when they were children, when she had some secret she wished to hold on to. He sat there on the edge of the bed, and brushed some of the hair from her brow. 

Then she spoke in a quiet voice.

“He suits you.” 

Albus was startled, and stared at her for a long moment, before looking back at the door where Brian was waiting. She had likely spoken too softly for him to overhear. 

Turning back to her, he returned her smile. He felt like she saw him more clearly than any other time he could remember. He realized how much she could see, truly underneath. He leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead. She closed her eyes dutifully, and began to drift off to sleep. Albus blew out the candle, although the sun was still setting, and there was still some faint light in the room. He walked back to the door where Brian was waiting patiently for him with his bag and jacket.  After Albus carefully closed the bedroom door, they started to walk back towards the main hall. 

They moved at a leisurely pace down the staircase. Brian seemed in no rush to leave. There was an odd sensation between them that made Albus feel giddy. It felt like if they touched, there would be a shock. Albus realized he desperately wanted him to stay, but he didn’t know how to ask. As they crossed the marble floor and closed the distance to the front door, Albus’s mind raced to find some excuse to hold him there. 

Just as Brian was about to cross the threshold, Albus threw his arm across the post, blocking his way. Brian looked back at him, but with a look that held neither shock, nor annoyance. He waited.

The sun was setting, and the door faced westward. The deepening red glow of the light pushed through the doorway between them. Their faces glowed as if they were on fire. Albus leaned in closer and saw Brian mirroring his movements. The hand he had thrown onto the doorpost came to Brian’s cheek. Brian didn’t push it away. Any anxiety or doubt Albus had left suddenly disappeared, and when he finally kissed him, it felt certain. Brian kissed him right back, more eagerly than he expected.  Albus could feel in his lips how long he had been anticipating it. 

Albus’s fingers soon found themselves in Brian’s dark curls, and he pulled his head closer to his own. He felt Brian’s hands on the back of his neck and his waist. The space between them quickly shrank, as Albus took one hand out of Brian’s hair to slam the door behind them. 

Brian wouldn’t be going back to the village that evening. 

***

They were on the floor of Albus’s bedroom, entangled in each other's limbs, with only a thin sheet to cover their bodies. But the roaring fire in the fireplace, and their own body heat kept them warm. Brian’s back was leaning against the bedpost, and Albus was resting his head on Brian's chest. They listened to the crackle of the wood, and felt each other’s slow and steady breathing. Their fingers were intertwined, and Albus could feel Brian’s soft palms in his. 

“When did you know?” Albus finally asked, rather timidly.

“Know what?” 

“You know…” Albus said, looking away.

“Oh that?” he laughed. “From the beginning.” 

He pulled at Albus’s hair. Albus blushed.

“Really?”

“It took you a while to catch up,” Brian chided. 

“I guess I’m a slow learner.” 

He heard Brian chuckle. It was a lovely sound. Albus breathed in deep, and let Brian’s arms wrap around him. Everything seemed new. They were in his childhood bedroom, full to the brim with memories, and yet it felt as if he had never been there before. He had certainly never laid on the floor as he was, unclothed, nothing separating him from someone else other than their skin. 

Brian too seemed strangely new. Albus had come to know his habits and mannerisms over the months they had known each other, but in the past few hours it had felt like he was meeting a new person. Someone he was excited to meet. He was the same Brian as before—but more. He was tender, curious, and almost unsure. 

Albus would never forget the way he looked at him when he started to undo the buttons of his vest. He had stopped, throttling his heady eagerness and looked long at Albus, with a small fear in his eyes. A fear that seemed to say, do I go too far? Have I overstepped? But Albus had only smiled at his fear, and took hold of his hands. Their fingers undid the buttons in tandem. 

Laying there with him, nothing else in the world seemed as important. Everything else that had ever occupied his mind felt trifling, inconsequential. All that mattered now was to continue to hold him close to his body, keep his arms around his, and feel Brian’s every heartbeat through the small of his back. His only anxiety was the hypothetical universe where he didn’t end up here, on the bedroom floor, with Brian around him. 

“Has there ever been …” Brian began, shyly looking down into Albus’s eyes, “ …anyone else?”

Albus looked back at the fireplace, and didn’t respond immediately. He thought of the necklace, laying on the desk in the corner where he had left it, forgotten. Reluctantly, he let the outside world seep back into his mind. 

“Sort of…”

He had not wished to speak about the past. About any moment before the moment he had met Brian. What life was that really? Was it really me? He thought. But he was also seized by a sudden desire to tell him everything. He wanted to be utterly exposed. To rip off the sheet covering them and stand there naked before him. Let Brian see all the blemishes and scars. All the fears, longings, and failings. 

“There was this other wizard—Gellert. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I kind of wanted to be more than that, but…I don’t know. We’re so close in so many ways. He knew my mind better than anyone else, although… I’ve been feeling rather distant from him lately.” 

Albus realized how he felt as he spoke. Brian listened attentively, not saying a word.

“We shared a lot of the same dreams, but—I don’t think we do any more.” 

Brian could tell there was more. He played with Albus’s hair as he spoke. 

“I don’t think I ever really knew how he felt about it—about me. Or anything really.”

It felt good to say it all aloud. Despite the confusion and uncertainty he still felt about Gellert, there was a relief in putting it into words. As if his feelings were just air. Little trifles he could deal with some other time. He relaxed back into Brian’s chest. There was a large crack of wood from the fireplace. Albus looked up into Brian’s eyes. His curls had fallen across his face, and made it hard to read his expression. 

“What about you?” Albus asked.

Brian looked at him, and his expression lightened. 

“Oh, just another medical student once. Don’t worry, he wasn’t as handsome as you…He did know how to cook for himself though.” 

Brian winked at Albus, who shoved an elbow into his stomach. 

“I’m working on it,” Albus said, unable to suppress a smile. 

“You just let me know when it’s edible.”

They laughed together, and then Brian returned his gaze to the fire. His dark eyes looked serene, untroubled by any worry. And yet, Albus knew the muggle doctor worried a great deal about a great many things. He worried about his patients. About the vegetables in his garden. He worried about Oscar, and whether or not he liked the new stable. He worried about Ariana. And Foggy. He was spilling over with care for things, knowing how easy it is to lose them. Albus didn’t know how he knew Brian felt this way. Whether he had come to realize it over the months, or whether he saw it there in his eyes, as dark and deep as they were. 

And then he realized how much Brian cared for him. Something about how tightly his arms held him perhaps. He didn’t know why it surprised him so, to realize it. But the weight of Brian’s care for him shocked him. And suddenly, he realized how many others also cared for him. Isobel cared for him. Ariana and Foggy certainly did. His mother had cared for him. His father must have as well, or perhaps he still did. Professor Dippet cared for him, and his students. Even Aberforth maybe. Gellert too, however imperfectly. 

Why hadn’t he realized it until now? To know that people thought of him. Not of his future, not of his accomplishments, but whether or not he was happy. Why hadn’t he realized people loved him?

“I think I’ve been wrong about many things,” he said. 

Brian looked down at him. 

“You especially.” 

Albus couldn’t tell what Brian was thinking, but he could see him scrutinizing him. For a time, there was a silence. He could see a question coming to Brian’s lips. One that weighed on him. 

Finally, he said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

“Yes?” 

“Did you—Did you ever think of me?” 

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t remember?”

“I think—”

What was the truth? As he felt a tear drip down his cheek, he realized what it was. 

“I think—I thought you had—”

Brian watched him try to say it. 

“I thought you had been in the glade that night. When we came back. When he…I thought you were dead.”

Brian brushed his brow, and waited for the tears to slow. 

“It’s alright,” he said. 

It was enough. At that moment, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding. What had happened in the glade could stay there. The future could be without fear or shame. They would not let the memories haunt them. Nothing outside the house mattered. Nothing outside the room they were in.

“Hey—” Albus reached up a hand to Brian’s face. He looked down at him again.  “I’m sorry.”

Brian’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“For what?”

“I just… I never really apologized for how I treated you when we first met.” 

“Oh…”

“Not just that day in the kitchen. But before,” Albus said. 

Brian looked at him a long while, and then laughed softly. He leaned down and kissed him on the brow.

“You are forgiven.”

That night Albus stayed awake for a long time listening to the sound of Brian’s steady breaths. He could feel their rhythm on the back of his neck. He pulled Brian’s arms closer around him and intertwined his fingers like he was binding them together. Moonlight streamed in from the window, and made the dark wood of the floor look white as a pearl. It hit the surface of the desk across from the bed. He could just see the glint of the silver necklace that laid there.

Chapter Text

Godric’s Hollow. 

He waited a long time before knocking, and took in the smell of the mud from the street. As in his memory, the town smelled of manure and muggles. He was reminded of all the reasons he had avoided Godric’s Hollow. He had once feared he would be trapped here. Trapped in a simple life. He shuddered at the thought. 

Just as he reached up his hand to the door, it swung open. The familiar, hard face of his aunt appeared. Bathilda Bagshot was in her middling years. She had always been known as a “sharp” woman, and her renown as a magical historian made her a daunting figure to most. Despite her success, she still lived in modest accommodations in Godric’s Hollow, in a small flat just near the Dumbledores’. Though Gellert towered over her, Bathilda was still formidable. She seemed to gather everything she needed with a look. 

“So today’s the day, is it?” 

She looked him up and down, finding him just as she thought. 

“Was wondering when you’d show up.” 

“Hello, Aunt Bathilda,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Her skin was ice cold. She almost laughed when he did it. 

“So, finally kicked out of the castle?”

“Not yet.” Gellert’s teeth clenched. 

“One day soon then,” she said with a biting smile. 

“I didn’t come to argue with you, Aunt Bathilda.”

“Why did you come then?” 

She jumped on his words, not leaving him a moment to breathe. He tempered his frustration, and refocused. 

“I was wondering….if you could let me into the Dumbledore flat.”

***

Her room was like a cell. Though it had a window that looked down on the little garden outside, the light only laid bare how sparse the room was. It only took Gellert a few moments to search every crevice. 

“She could sit there for hours humming to herself, or speaking babble like an infant,” Bathilda said. “Who knows what was going on in that head.” 

That summer he spent here he hadn’t even known there was a daughter. Until one day he peered over the garden wall and he didn’t find Albus as he expected. The mother was walking her around in circles about the garden. The girl had the eyes of a dead person. They had frightened him, and only a few things ever frightened Gellert. 

“Aunt, what was the nature of Ariana’s illness?” 

Her eyes narrowed. This curiosity of Gellert was not something she usually saw, and she wanted to learn more. She knew the inquiry wasn’t going to lead anywhere good, but she decided she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. 

“Everyone knows the story of the muggle boys of course. But what people forget is just how powerful of a witch she was. Even as a child. It was clear she was going to do brilliant things. Percival certainly had high hopes for her.”

She watched him watching her. He had never listened so intently to anything she said.  

“She must have cast a spell she couldn’t control. It rebounded and damaged her mind.”

“And so she can’t perform magic anymore?” Gellert asked.

“Not exactly. She had fits…they could shake the house at times….and I suspect—” She chose her words carefully. “—I suspect she had visions.”

“What kind of visions?”

She could feel him try to hide his interest. 

“I don’t know. She was mad—they may have been nothing.” 

There was a long silence between them. 

“Why haven’t you asked Albus about this?” 

He looked away from her, shielding his eyes from her gaze, but he could tell she saw much. He could never hide anything from her, even as a child.

“Oh…I see. Has he run away from you?” she asked, with a mocking smile. “Good for him.” 

He didn’t respond to her. She had the information she wanted. Her tone shifted.

“Stay away from that house, Gellert.”

“You aren’t my guardian anymore, Aunt.”

“I’m not saying it for you.” 

He had enough. He knew she wasn’t going to tell him anything else he wanted to hear. He pushed past her out of the small room. 

“Is this to be your future then?!” she yelled at him. “Running after him?! Only when he wants to be rid of you?!”

He turned back and yelled louder.

“What?! What?! Tell me what you want to say!” 

He had come back to her more quickly than she had expected, and grabbed her roughly by the arm. His fingers clenched tightly. Though she knew he could hurt her if he wanted, she knew how to hurt back. When she spoke, her voice became quiet.

“I thought I was saving you from a neglectful family when I took you in that summer,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I see now that was a mistake.”

He let go of her arm. He hated how much she could see. He shouldn’t have come. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you wanted, Aunt Bathilda.” 

“I’m sorry too. For Albus’s sake.” 

He turned away and headed for the door, slamming it behind him. 

As he made his way back through the muddy village streets, he caught sight of a young man walking down the other side. 

“Albus?!” 

But it wasn’t Albus. Gellert was able to duck into an alley just in time. 

Aberforth looked more exhausted and disheveled than usual. His hair was greasy and matted down over his forehead. He had a large brown sack slung over his shoulder. He looked about the street, searching for the voice, but saw nothing except innocent passerby. He turned and continued on his way. 

Gellert waited a long time in the shadows, trying to make sense of things.

Chapter Text

Mould-on-the-Wold. 

Summer.

The heat of summertime had arrived, and Ariana was frequently out of doors. She led Oscar about in a circle in the yard, under Brian's careful guidance. The horse followed along, and was obliging to her touch.  She loved finding fruit for him to feed on, and could spend the afternoon decorating his mane with flowers. She had gotten more familiar with the animal, so much so that Albus had let her ride him alone a few times, although only with Brian still holding to the reins and leading them on. It was the longest she had ever gone without having an episode.

Albus watched from the second floor window of the house, as she left the horse to graze and busied herself with gathering more blooms. Brian patted Oscar’s back, and watched Ariana as well. He caught Albus’s eye through the window and smiled. Albus returned it. 

Ariana came back to the horse with her hands full of wildflowers. She had woven them into a kind of crown. Instead of laying it between the horse’s ears, she turned instead to Brian, with an expectant look on her face. He gave her a sweet laugh, but then he complied and bent his head. She placed the crown in his curls. Looking back at Albus, Brian smiled again. 

“Master Albus?”

Albus turned from the window to see Foggy enter the room. 

“Foggy?”

“Another owl from Mr. Grindelwald, Master,” the house elf said.

Albus sighed. 

“Yes, I suppose I will have to respond to him at some point.” 

He had been avoiding writing to Gellert. Things were too confusing now, too different from before. He looked back at Brian and Ariana in the garden. He didn’t know what he would even say to Gellert, or maybe he didn’t know if he wanted to. 

“Foggy hopes we will be seeing more of Doctor Fawkes,” the house elf said. 

“Me too, Foggy.” 

He was glad Foggy was there. 

“Foggy would like to say…if Master Albus forgives him for….being so bold, that is…” 

The house elf seemed to be struggling to get it out, and he was more self-abasing than usual.  He trailed off mumbling, and stared at his feet. 

“What is it, Foggy?” Albus asked, trying to reassure him. 

“Foggy just wanted to say that… well—since Doctor Fawkes has come… and since Miss Ariana has been feeling so much better… well—Master Albus has seemed so much better too…and happier almost, and well—Foggy just wanted to say that…Foggy is very happy too…”

He could see the elf try to hide his wet eyes as he spoke. Albus could feel the tears forming in his own. 

“It’s hard for Foggy…” the elf continued, “Foggy still sees the young Master and Misses as they were when he first met them…when they were but little things. Foggy still remembers sending them to bed …and wishing them good night…”

“Foggy, come here,” Albus said gently. 

Foggy came slowly to the window, and Albus knelt down beside him. 

“Foggy, I am forever grateful that you are in my life.”

Albus began to take off the coat of his suit. 

“You will always have a home here if you want it, Foggy.”

And then he wrapped the coat tightly around the shoulders of the astonished elf. Before Foggy could respond or make a move to take off the wizard’s coat, Albus threw his arms about him and embraced the elf. He held him close to his chest.

“I love you, Foggy.” 

***

That night, there was a celebration at the Dumbledore mansion, to commemorate Foggy’s newfound freedom. As a special treat, Brian brought a gift from the village, which pleased no one more than Albus: a brand new gramophone. 

They set themselves up in the newly renovated music room, which hadn’t been used since Albus was a young boy. It had been redecorated beautifully by Ariana and Foggy. Full vases of flowers adorned every surface. Its furniture had been reupholstered, and the rich red wallpaper glowed in the candlelight. They played music the entire evening. Brian taught each of them how to dance properly, and in some of the new styles. Foggy couldn’t do more than jump ecstatically between pieces of furniture, Albus’s coat still around his shoulders. Ariana did her best initially, but lost interest in the repetitive steps. She began her own erratic dance, but still seemed to feel the rhythms of the music. Albus was ever the dutiful student, and he followed the instruction of Brian diligently. 

When the record ran itself out, Albus enchanted the piano to play for them. But the songs the piano wanted to play were slower and softer. Their movements became more languid. Foggy passed out quickly, drunk with happiness. Ariana rested on the chaise, and drifted in and out of consciousness, though for a while she had watched Albus and Brian dance. She slept with a smile on her face.

Albus and Brian were still very much awake, and they didn’t have the heart to carry Ariana and the elf to bed, or stop the piano’s lullabies. They decided to strike up a game of chess. They placed the board on the floor, and played laying on their stomachs like children. 

“Knight to A5.”

He galloped into place, taking Albus’s rook in the process. The broken pieces of the castle were pushed off the board. 

“Damn!” Albus swore.

Brian laughed—Albus found it infectious. He had never enjoyed losing a game of chess before, but he did that night. After the initial shock of wizard’s chess, Brian had quickly thrown himself into the game. And, to Albus’s detriment, he was quite good. 

Albus smiled again and stared at Brian, thinking. 

“What is it?” Brian asked.

Albus thought for a moment.  

“I don’t really like it when you leave.”

“I know.” 

Albus found words coming to him before he could think them. 

“Why don’t you stay here? I mean…more often than you have?” 

Brian had already stayed over three nights that week, but he understood what Albus was asking. He leaned his chin on his folded hands and grinned wide. 

“Alright.” 

Albus blushed and bit his lip. 

“Everyone thinks I’ve moved into a haunted house. I'm already starting to be called that ‘loony doctor’ in the village,” Brian said. “Might as well make it official.” 

It was Albus’s turn to laugh. 

As they turned their attention back to the game, the doorbell rang. Foggy immediately jolted up, and Ariana looked over from the chaise. Albus couldn’t remember anyone ever ringing the doorbell of the house, and was too stunned to move for a moment. None of them knew how to respond.

The bell rang again. 

Finally Albus got up, and walked into the main hall adjacent to the music room. Brian, Ariana and Foggy watched him go silently. When he opened the front door, he had a momentary shock. 

Isobel was waiting on the doorstep.

Chapter Text

Isobel waited patiently in the doorway, while Albus fumbled with his words.

“Isobel!” he finally exclaimed. 

“Well?” she said with a smile, “Aren’t you going to let me in? Has the hospitality of the Dumbledore mansion sunk so low?” 

He laughed. She was as charming as he remembered. All of their past tension seemed to have faded. When he saw her standing there in the doorway, he realized how much he had missed her. She had been his truest friend, he could now admit. He felt ashamed of himself to have realized it so late. And he could see then, what had truly upset her. It hadn't been his cruel, baseless accusation. It hadn't been Gellert. It had been all of his walls. How he had kept her at arms length, kept all his secrets and fears to himself, even when she had been telling him all along that there was nothing to be afraid of. He understood her better know, and something of this realization passed between them as they met eyes across the threshold. She stood there in all her magnanimity, with a look that seemed to say everything was forgiven. He was happy to see her. 

And yet, she also brought with her the reminder of another world. A world he had been turning away from. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said finally, embracing her. She returned the gesture warmly. 

“My! You look well!” she said, after looking him over. 

Albus blushed. He had been taking better care of his appearance since the doctor had been coming to the house. But there was also a new brightness to his eyes. Isobel noticed it immediately. 

“Albus?” 

He heard Brian’s voice behind him. 

“Is that Ariana?” Isobel asked. 

Albus was not quick enough to stop her as she pushed past him into the main hall. She was startled to find Brian staring back at her, instead of Albus’s sister as she had supposed. Ariana and Foggy were hanging back by the door to the music room. As soon as Ariana recognized her, she ran up to Isobel. 

“Isobel!” 

Isobel turned from Brian to embrace Ariana, who had leapt into her arms.

“Hello, Ariana!” 

Ariana was brimming with excitement. It was turning into an eventful evening.

“I suppose it is nice to have another woman in the house,” Isobel joked.

“Agreed,” Brian jumped in clumsily. 

Albus could tell that he was eager to make a good impression. Foggy had also entered the hall, and made his gracious compliments to Isobel. She gave a curious look at the elf’s coat, but then turned back to Brian, who was evidently the greater curiosity. 

“And who might you be?” Isobel asked, though not impolitely. 

Albus interceded quickly when he saw Brian stumbling. 

“This is Dr. Brian Fawkes. He’s been helping me with Ariana.” 

“How do you do?” Brian came forward with his hand raised. 

Isobel looked at him intently, but then took his hand and said, “A pleasure.” 

“You must be…well, I mean … are you a—a witch?” Brian asked timidly. His voice had dropped to a whisper when he said the word ‘witch’. 

Isobel gave a little laugh, and looked back briefly at Albus before responding. 

“Well yes… I am. And you must be a muggle.” 

“So I’ve been told.”

Isobel looked back at Albus with a great deal of interest. 

“Albus?” 

“We have…a lot to talk about,” Albus said in a lower voice. 

“Yes…we do,” she responded. 

“Isobel, why are you here?” 

Her expression became more somber. Since she had entered she had been amused by the scene she had found, but Albus could tell now she had difficult news to relate. He remembered with dread the last time he saw her in the Gryffindor Common Room. 

“It’s Aberforth—he’s in the village.” 

“What?!”

It had not been what Albus was expecting. He had been avoiding thinking of Aberforth, perhaps even more than he had been avoiding thinking of Gellert. 

“Aberforth?” Ariana asked, her attention caught at the mention of his name. 

“I know,” Isobel said. Her voice was heavy. “He left school a few months ago. I think he’s been in Godric’s Hollow for a little bit. But now he’s at an inn in the village…he said you forbade him from coming home?” 

He had feared this. All of this. Not just his brother. But in a way Isobel too. Her appearing at their door. He had missed her deeply, but he feared everything she brought with her. The perfectly contained bubble that he had been living in with Ariana, Foggy, and Brian was burst in a moment. It had been inevitable, he knew, but he mourned it all the same. There was no going back now. 

“Albus…I think you should go talk to him,” she said. “It’s time.”

“I agree with her,” Brian said, coming up to him. He placed a hand on Albus’s shoulder. Isobel looked at him intently again. 

“I know,” Albus said, after a long moment. 

Everything felt weighty all of a sudden. Like he had been floating about, and he was suddenly tugged back to earth. His body felt leaden. And yet, he could see the path forward he must take.

He knew what he had to do. 

“Everyone stay here. I’ll be back.” 

Ariana came up to him. She had become uneasy ever since Aberforth’s name was mentioned.

“Albie?”

“Don’t worry, Ariana,” he said, putting a hand to her face. “I’ll be coming back with Aberforth soon.” 

He kissed her softly on the forehead, and summoned his coat. 

***

It was a misty evening, and the squat buildings of the village appeared hazy, and ill-defined through the fog. The village boasted a few streetlamps dotted here and there. They seemed like lighthouses directing safe passage through the night. 

Albus found the old muggle inn as Isobel described. The innkeeper was a sleepy, elderly woman, who quickly obliged him when he asked after Aberforth. 

“Room Five.” 

She disappeared into a back room, and Albus made his way up the rickety staircase she had pointed towards. 

When he found the room, he waited for a long time in the hallway. He felt he had been speaking without thinking a lot recently, and he didn’t want that to happen here. 

He tried to remember times before, when they were young. He remembered Aberforth finding a snail in the garden. The time he tipped over a bookcase in the library. His first spell. The memories were all as blurred as the buildings outside, shrouded in mist. He tried to cling to them nevertheless, arming himself with them. 

He knocked on the door. 

“Isobel?” he heard Aberforth call from inside. 

He took a deep breath. 

“It’s me.” 

There was a long silence. Albus couldn’t hear anything from the other side of the door. 

“Aberforth?” Albus said finally. 

“What do you want?”

“Aberforth—please, can we talk?”

He thought Aberforth might be waiting for him to leave, but then the door was suddenly flung open, and there he was. The same gloomy boy, as he had expected. His dark hair was unwashed, and it was clear he had slept in the clothes he was wearing. Albus noticed stubble forming on his face. It had been a while since he had shaved. 

He is no longer a boy , Albus thought.  

He stared at Albus, eyes filled with spite, but said nothing. 

“Am I allowed to come in?” 

Aberforth turned away and walked further into the room, but he left the door open. Albus hesitantly entered. The room wasn’t very large, and was mostly dominated by the lone cot bed. The rest of the furnishings were only the bare essentials. A nightstand, a small wardrobe, a mirror and washbasin. There was a lonely window on the wall that looked down onto the square with the fountain below. In an odd guilty way, it reminded Albus of Ariana’s room in Godric’s Hollow. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Just a few days. Can’t afford much better,” Aberforth said with some exaggerated self-pity, as he sat down on the bed. “I was in Godric’s Hollow for a bit.” 

“Isobel told me.”

There was a long pause. 

“Aberforth…come back home with me.” 

Aberforth looked up at him, his eyes narrowing. 

“I can’t. I’ve been forbidden.”

“Aberforth, please.” 

Albus wouldn’t match his anger, as he usually did. This only made Aberforth more frustrated. 

“You’re just here because Isobel made you feel guilty!” 

“No. But I am ashamed,” Albus said, looking at his feet.“I’m sorry.” 

Aberforth scoffed at this, and got up angrily. He started pacing about the room.

“Aberforth,” Albus pleaded, “please forgive me.”

“You don’t deserve forgiveness!” Aberforth yelled. 

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am! I’ve been right here the whole time! Whether you’ve realized it or not. Everything you’ve seen, I’ve seen! I’ve seen how you lap up all the praise. All the fawning. ‘Oh Albus Dumbledore, what is he going to do next?’ You act all humble, all modest, but you secretly love it. I know who you are!” 

Albus let himself feel the blows. Let himself feel the truth of it. 

“You’ve always acted like you were above it all, but you’re not! You’re not that impressive wizard everyone says you are. You haven’t pulled the wool over my eyes. I know you! You’re a liar and a coward! You’re a hypocrite! You’ve abandoned your family! You abandoned Ariana! You abandoned me!” 

His words spilled out over the floor and filled up the room. Aberforth had been trying to sound mature and intimidating, but his voice was starting to break by the end. Albus could see that his eyes were tearing up. The exertion of the tirade had worn him down, and made it harder for him to fight it back. 

“I know, Aberforth,” Albus said, as he sat down on the bed, “You’re right about everything.” 

Aberforth was still trying to make it appear as if he wasn’t crying. He didn’t know how to handle Albus giving in. 

“I was afraid. And—I didn’t want to handle it all. So I ran away from it.” He looked up at Aberforth. “I left you and Ariana behind—I know. I’m sorry.”

Aberforth wanted to keep on arguing, so he shifted tact. 

“And your Slytherin friend?” 

Albus sighed again, and said, “Gellert and I are not as close as we once were… he is a friend, yes. But you’re my brother, Aberforth.”

They did not often use the word ‘brother’ with each other, and it startled Aberforth. Albus pressed on.

“Aberforth, please. I can’t change how things were in the past. Please help me try to set things right.” 

Aberforth seemed to run out of things to say. He was desperately trying to hold on to his anger, and Albus could see the struggle on his face. He swiped a quick hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears. 

“Ariana misses you,” Albus pleaded. “She’s been doing better—despite all my mistakes. Please come home with me.” 

Aberforth said nothing for a long time. He had to turn away from Albus so that he couldn't see his face. Albus waited calmly on the bed watching his back shake. 

Finally, he spoke.

“Do you remember in Godric’s Hollow, when mother was crying every night, and you used to tell me it was the rain?” 

Albus shut his eyes. When he opened them Aberforth was looking at him. His eyes were red and grim. 

“I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“Alright,” Albus said.

They looked at each other for a long while, and Albus thought Aberforth might tell him to leave. But then Aberforth pulled out his wand, and a suitcase leapt onto the bed beside him.

Chapter Text

They waited for Albus in the drawing room. From there they could keep an eye on the front door in the main hall, for when Albus and Aberforth returned. If they both returned. The silence was starting to grow uncomfortable. 

“So do you also attend the school?” Brian asked, building up courage.

Isobel was caught off guard. 

“Sorry?”

Brian was worried he misspoke.

“The—hog castle?” 

“Oh yes!” Isobel said laughing, “Hogwarts! I’m a Gryffindor, like Albus.”

Brian had heard Albus use that word, but forgot what it meant. She seemed very proud of it though, so he smiled politely, and nodded as if he remembered. 

“We met on my first day of school after my sorting. I’m a year younger. We’ve been friends ever since.” 

"Oh," Brian said. 

"I'm actually the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain," she said with a wide smile. Again, she clearly thought it was impressive. 

"Right," Brian responded, hoping she wouldn't ask him if he knew what Quidditch was. 

Foggy had brought them tea, even though it was now quite late. Isobel had initially said she was fine, but she drank the cup of tea she was given to fill up the time. Ariana hummed softly on the chaise, and seemed unaware of the awkwardness. 

“And so you are a muggle doctor?” she asked again. 

“Yes.” 

“In the village?”

Brian nodded. Isobel peered at him. 

“Albus asked you here to help with Ariana?” 

The question was perfectly well-mannered, but there was a twinge of skepticism in her voice. She was searching for something, and he could sense it.

“Well…he didn’t invite me exactly, but I’ve been helping—at least…I hope I have.” 

Isobel looked back at Ariana, lost in her own world. 

“She does seem in better spirits,” she said. 

Isobel looked back at him again, and was about to ask something else when the doorbell rang. 

Everyone froze. The doorbell—which hadn’t been used in years—had been rung for the second time that night. As it clearly wasn’t Albus and Aberforth, none of them had any idea who it could be. And at such a late hour. The greater uncertainty was who should answer the door, as the master of the house was not present. All of these fears were communicated wordlessly between them, and no one moved until Isobel finally rose from her seat. 

She fixed her hair, and tried to look more confident as she walked from the drawing room into the main hall. Brian, Ariana, and Foggy followed behind her, as they made their way to the front door. 

Isobel took a moment to collect herself, before clasping the door handle and pulling it open. 

She was not pleased with what she found. 

Gellert looked right back at her, his initial shock quickly turning to frustration. Behind him, others peered in. Ravenna was there. She raised a curious eyebrow.

“Gellert?!”

“Isobel?!” 

Neither of them could say more than that for a moment, and those outside and inside the house were similarly speechless.

“Where is Albus?!” Gellert said, breaking the silence. His anger coming swiftly. 

“He’s not at home,” Isobel said, trying to recover herself. “You’ve missed him.” 

“What are you doing here?!” 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” 

Gellert scoffed at this. Isobel’s haughty attitude always rubbed him the wrong way, but to find her here instead of Albus was even more infuriating. The weeks of unreturned letters to Albus had set him on edge. He was not about to be turned away at the door. Time was running out. 

“Gellert,” Ravenna said quietly in his ear, as she nudged his side. 

She gestured with her chin through the doorway. Gellert peered over Isobel’s shoulder. He hadn’t taken much notice of the other occupants of the house. 

He found Ariana immediately, she looked back at him with a strange look on her face. Beside her was the Dumbledore family house elf. He was wearing a coat, which Gellert couldn’t make sense of. And then there was another man that Gellert didn't recognize. The man looked at the crowd outside with some apprehension. Something about him troubled Gellert. 

Watching their eyes, Isobel moved to the side to try and block their view. 

“Where is Albus?!” Gellert said again, more forcefully this time. 

“He’s not here…I don’t know when he’ll be back.” 

“Then you don’t mind if we wait for him?” Ravenna asked. Not pausing for Isobel to respond, she shoved past her into the hall. 

“Hey!” Isobel called after, but the others were already pushing their way through the door as well. Gellert, Corvus, Livia, Noxius and Griffin soon followed into the hall. 

As they entered, Ariana moved quickly to Brian and clung to his arm. He could see she was afraid, and tried to comfort her, but he too was wary of these new guests. Somehow, it felt like the house had been violated. Ravenna peered at Ariana like a predator. Brian felt Ariana’s breath start to quicken. He was worried she was going to have a fit. 

“It’s alright,” he said softly, grabbing her hand. 

“Albus?!” Gellert called out. But Albus didn’t appear from any of the entryways into the hall. 

“I told you he isn’t here,” Isobel said again. She stayed by the door, holding it open as if they would all be walking out in the next moment. 

“Where is he?!” 

Isobel didn’t respond to him, and kept her mouth shut defiantly. Brian hoped Albus would return soon. 

“Gellert,” Corvus interjected, trying to move things along, “we didn’t come here for Albus.” 

Gellert and Corvus turned to look back at Ariana, who had backed away with Brian towards the other end of the great hall. Gellert met eyes again with the strange man beside her. 

“Who are you ?” 

Brian didn’t know how to answer. The situation seemed to be unraveling, and he was decidedly out of his element. Foggy was cowering by the banisters and trying hard not to be noticed. Brian looked helplessly at Isobel, but her fearful look provided no answer. Somehow, he knew he shouldn’t divulge the entire truth to them, but he didn’t know what lie they would believe. 

“Um…I’m Brian,” he said meekly. 

They looked as if he had said he was a Martian. 

“You’re a muggle !” 

Brian was now used to the observation, but this new wizard had said the word ‘muggle’ rather differently than Isobel or Albus had. Different from the way Albus had said it even on that day in the kitchen. He could tell it was a word the wizard used frequently, with some disgust. A dirty word. To be reviled.

“In Percival Dumbledore’s own house?!” Gellert yelled. “What’s been going on here?!”

Isobel tried to calm him, but his rage and astonishment were too great. 

“How dare you!” he yelled at Brian.

“Gellert—enough of this,” Ravenna said impatiently. “Clearly Albus has gone mad. Let’s take the girl and go.”

She started to move towards Ariana, but Brian instinctively placed himself in front of her. 

“Let’s just hold on a moment here,” he said, holding his palms up, and trying to keep his cool. 

“You don’t want to stand in my path, muggle,” Ravenna spat at him. 

“Nobody’s taking Ariana anywhere,” Brian told her.

Brian found a glimmer of determination somewhere inside him, and held on to it desperately. He shielded Ariana with his body. His words were his only defense. If they failed, all he had left were his hands. He could feel Ariana trembling on his arm. 

Gellert suddenly reached his breaking point. Everything that had weighed on his mind over the past few months compressed into him. The months of repeated setbacks trying to find the weapon, with the attendant disappointment of Mordred, yet another adult who thought he was a failure. Then the long silence of Albus, who had always clung to him so dearly. Finally to come here, and find him gone. And in his place this muggle, who was standing in their way. Nothing made sense. There was some piece of the puzzle he was missing, just like with everything else, and this muggle suddenly seemed at the center of it. His anger boiled out of his skin. 

He pulled his wand from his coat and strode towards the muggle.

“Get out of my way!”

“Gellert!” Isobel screamed. 

He grabbed the muggle by his shoulder and pushed him roughly into the wall behind him. There was a loud whack as Brian’s back hit the wall. Gellert held him there, with his wand in the muggle’s face. He looked deeply into Brian’s eyes, but there was not enough fear there to satisfy him. 

“Gellert! Wait!” Isobel yelled. She held up her hands, but was afraid to move closer. “Albus is in the village with Aberforth! Just go!” 

Gellert didn’t respond, and continued to hold Brian against the wall, his wand ready. The muggle locked eyes with him. In that moment, Brian realized the weapon he had. 

“So you’re Gellert,” the muggle said softly, just loud enough for Gellert to hear. Despite the threat of Gellert’s wand, his voice had become bolder. “I understand now.”

Gellert’s brow became knit with confusion, his eyes narrowed on the muggle. Brian spoke with a clarity that stunned him.

“I think you’re too late.”

And suddenly Gellert saw how much the muggle saw. He saw Albus in his eyes. He saw the letters Albus never wrote him. He saw the meaning of the muggle’s words. He realized they were daggers that had slipped swiftly, but silently between them into his gut. And Gellert was too shocked to do anything about it. And the muggle knew it. He knew what he had said. Though Gellert held the wand, the muggle held the power. Gellert stared at him with astonishment, and Brian looked back at him with defiance. A new kind of fury filled Gellert, ice cold. And a fear. 

Ravenna cared little what was happening between Gellert and the muggle. Her patience run dry, she barked at the others. 

“Grab her!”

Everything happened very quickly after that. Noxius and Griffin grabbed hold of Isobel, and pinned her against the other wall, as Ravenna, Corvus and Livia circled Ariana. Ravenna suddenly grabbed hold of her arm, and started dragging her toward the door. Ariana screamed out, and tried to pull herself in the other direction. But the others were stronger, and they pulled her across the length of the hall. 

“Time to answer a few questions, little girl,” Corvus said.

Brian pushed against Gellert, but he held him fast. 

“What have you done to Albus?!” Gellert asked with blood in his voice. 

“You should ask him,” Brian shot back.

And then, there was a loud crack, as if lightning had struck in the house, and the hall was suddenly filled with light. 

“No!” Brian yelled. 

The blinding light quickly faded, to reveal Ariana, who was seizing on the floor. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head, and her mouth was starting to foam. Everyone watched on. 

All of a sudden, Isobel cried out. 

“Foggy, expel them from the house!” 

The hapless house elf, who had been frozen in fear for much of the scene, suddenly recovered his senses. He stood up quickly, and snapped his fingers. 

The entire house groaned like it was alive. The main door flew open as if a gust of wind was pushing through the hall. The great crystal chandelier above them leaned towards the doorway. Brian felt Gellert’s hands on him loosen, slip, and then let go. He flew backwards across the room and out the door. It was like he had some invisible rope tied around his waist, that was being pulled in the other direction with the speed of a horse. 

The others soon followed. Isobel looked to see Ravenna flying backwards, out the door, and onto the lawn outside, where she rolled for several yards before coming to a stop. Livia tried to cling to the floor as she was dragged out, but only succeeded in scratching the marble with her nails. Even Noxius, with his great weight, was pulled out. He held on to one of the posts of the bannister, but the force on him was so immense that the post broke. He took it with him, as he was flung from the house. Once the last of them had been expelled, the front doors slammed shut. 

“Thank you Foggy,” Isobel said, catching her breath. 

They ran to Ariana, still writhing on the floor. 

Brian knew it wasn’t over. 

Chapter Text

She had seen the darkness in him the moment he walked through the door. Bright blue eyes, and ice inside him, engulfed by the fire of his rage. She saw through him into his memories, and saw Albus there. He was alone. When he attacked Doctor Fawkes, there was a change in him, and she thought she saw him most clearly then. He became afraid. But then one of the women who had entered grabbed her arm and started pulling her towards the door. Everything rushed towards her, and she felt all of the energy push through the house and into her body. She felt everything. The trees outside, and the animals in the forest. Oscar, in the stable. She could sense Albus, miles away, walking with Aberforth. She felt the earth right through the foundations of the house. 

***

“What should we do?!” Corvus asked. 

For a moment, all Gellert could do was breathe in the muddy earth below him. He pushed himself up from the ground, and looked back at the lights of the house. The night was deepening. The two great stone sphinxes looked down at them threateningly.

“I need to find Albus,” he said, more to himself than to the others. 

His body ached. He had hit the ground hard when he was thrown from the house. 

“We should head to the village,” Ravenna suggested. 

Gellert didn’t like the idea. He thought about it for a moment.

“No—get the girl. I’ll find Albus alone.” 

“But how—?”

Gellert cut her off.

“There’s five of you, and only one witch in there, the elf, and a muggle! What on earth have you been training this whole year for?! Break down the doors and get them! Burn down the house if you have to!” 

He left them with it, and started walking towards the village.

***

“Is she alright?!” Isobel asked. 

The three of them had rushed to Ariana’s side. She was still seizing. Brian had no idea what to do. He desperately wished Albus was there. His small supply of bromide, his only remedy to a seizure of Ariana’s caliber, was far away in his office. He had stopped bringing it when Ariana had gone a month without an episode. He held his hands to Ariana’s face, and tried to steady her body. He could feel her pulse rushing. 

“Ariana?! Can you hear me?!” 

Her body kept on convulsing wildly. They looked down on her, and felt completely helpless. 

“Maybe we should get her to her room?” Isobel offered, for lack of a better option. 

Before any of them could move, there was a loud crash, and they looked up to see fire burst through the drawing room windows. Foggy gave out a high pitched yelp, and leapt almost five feet into the air. Glass scattered onto the carpet. Then they heard another explosion come from the second floor. 

“They’re attacking the house!” Isobel yelled. 

Brian pulled Ariana closer to him, his mind racing. 

***

Albus and Aberforth walked slowly through the mist. The silence hadn’t been broken since they left the inn. They both felt they had said enough for the evening. The village seemed deserted. The only signs of life were the few house lights and street lamps that appeared through the fog. 

They walked into the center of the village, where the large fountain stood. It was a wide basin of still, flat water, several yards across. The small spout that usually dripped out fresh water was silent. It was only another turn left, a short street with a few houses on it, before they would reach the edge of town, and the road back to the Dumbledore estate. 

Albus looked back at Aberforth. He seemed more exhausted than he had ever seen him. He appreciated how much his brother had grown. He knew their fight wasn't over, and Aberforth would have more energy in the morning, but for now he was happy to enjoy the silence with him. He breathed in the fresh night air deeply.

Then, just up ahead, he saw a dark figure appear from the mist on the other side of the fountain. The figure emerged from the road to the house, which no one ever came from but Albus. Once they caught sight of each other, the figure stopped, and waited for them to approach. 

As Albus’s eyes narrowed, he saw the bright blonde hair shine through the fog. 

“Gellert?” 

The figure did not immediately respond, but as they drew closer, Albus confirmed that it was in fact him, in the flesh, and not a trick of the mist. He looked hunched over, and something about him was off. His eyes were red rimmed, and his face etched with pain. 

Aberforth stopped beside him, and Albus quickly became aware of how unideal the situation was. He groaned. This was the last way he wanted to see Gellert again. 

“What’s he doing here?!” Aberforth asked beside him. His voice was sharp. Albus could already sense his anger returning, reinvigorating him. 

“I don’t know,” Albus said quickly, trying to throw a blanket on burning embers. “Just wait here.”

He approached Gellert slowly. He wished he had more time to think about this meeting, and what he wanted to say. But he knew he had been given more than ample opportunity. It was time to face Gellert. Say what needed to be said. Speak the truth. When their eyes met, Albus felt a chill go through him. He hesitated, and they stood there in silence. Behind his back, Albus could tell Aberforth was glaring at them. 

“Gellert?” Albus asked softly, “What are you doing here?” 

When Gellert spoke, his voice was high and strained. 

“Why is there a muggle in your house?”

Albus felt the skin throughout his entire body tighten. He struggled to breathe. The air left his lungs. 

Gellert had been to the house. 

He immediately reconstructed the scene in his mind. No likely scenario seemed good, and Gellert’s eyes confirmed that it wasn’t. 

Brian. 

He tried to mouth words, but no sound came out. 

“Have you betrayed me, Albus?”

“Gellert—we need to talk…”

“You’re damn right!” His voice raised for the first time, and Albus could see how angry he was. Albus had to take a step back. 

“Albus?!” He heard Aberforth call from behind them. 

Albus held up a hand to him, hoping he would stay back. But Aberforth wasn’t going to listen to him now. He dropped his suitcase on the ground, and came up to them. 

“What are you doing here?!” Aberforth yelled at Gellert. 

His anger was returning quickly. Unable to throw his frustration back at Albus, Gellert was a welcome target. 

“Aberforth stay out of this!” Albus pleaded, trying to stay calm. He held his brother back with his arm and looked back at Gellert. 

“Gellert, what happened?” He was still thinking of everyone back at the house, he was grateful Isobel was there. “Can we talk somewhere alone?”

Gellert ignored the question. 

“Is this why you didn’t answer my letters?! Were you ashamed?!” 

Albus didn’t know how to respond to Gellert’s rising fury. Aberforth did. 

“Get out of here you snake! You’re not wanted here!” 

“Aberforth!” Albus yelled, turning to him. He felt that dealing with his brother would be easier than Gellert. “Go home now! I’ll meet you there!” 

“No!” Aberforth yelled back, pushing Albus off of him. 

The old Aberforth had returned, and Albus knew what little control he had over him had vanished. Aberforth wanted to fight again. Gellert’s arrival provided the opportunity. 

“You said he was out of your life! You lied to me! Can’t you see he’s poison? He’s been turning you against us your whole life!” 

Behind all the anger, Albus saw a scared and hurt little boy. The clarity of it all was too much to take. 

“It’s not like that, Aberforth. Go home—now! Please!”

“I told you you can’t tell me what to do!”

Gellert had been listening the whole time, and Albus knew how he was taking it. Gellert finally looked at Aberforth.

“Shut up you brat!”

“Stay away from my family!”

Aberforth was the first to draw his wand. The blood immediately drained from Albus’s face. He was losing control of the situation more rapidly than he could comprehend.

“Aberforth—no!”

“Stupid boy,” Gellert sneered, drawing his own. 

Before Albus could say another word, blasts of light burst forth, and Albus was thrown back onto the ground. 

“No!”

His voice was drowned out by the clashing enchantments of Gellert and Aberforth. Their fury was given full reign. The heat from their spells boiled the water of the fountain. The steam spiraled up around them, mixing violently with the fog. 

But soon Albus was on his feet, and forced his way between them, breaking the enchantment. They lifted their wands.

“Enough!” 

Albus's voice was powerful and commanding. They all hesitated. Gellert’s face turned from shock to anger quickly.

“Gellert! I’m not going to fight you!” 

But Albus knew there was no stopping him now. Something in Gellert had been let loose, and there was no bottling it up again. In a quick motion, Albus pushed Aberforth away from him, and deflected Gellert’s incoming spell. 

It had been the first time they ever fought directly. Albus tried to steady his hand on his wand. He could see no way out. Soon Aberforth had reentered the fray, Albus unable to stop him. Gellert had to go on the defensive, as both brothers edged closer. Albus saw him look quickly at the fountain, and then, before the brothers could react, Gellert flicked his wand. The water of the fountain leapt up and emptied out onto the cobblestones. Albus and Aberforth were swept off their feet. 

Wiping water from his eyes, Albus got back up as fast as he could. He saw Gellert running down the short street and into the forest just beyond. Aberforth was soon running after him. 

“Aberforth, no! Stop this!”

Aberforth didn’t respond, but turned and hurled a curse at him. Albus was able to leap out of the way just in time. He didn’t respond in kind. Aberforth stared at him for a moment, with venom in his eyes, and then turned, and started running after Gellert. 

Albus soon ran after. 

***

Brian could feel the house shaking beneath him, and thought it would be a good idea to get out from under the crystal chandelier high up above. Ariana was still in a fit, though the convulsions were less violent than before, or perhaps they just seemed so given the convulsions of the house. Foggy was running about hysterically. Isobel was the first to regain her senses. 

“Foggy,” Isobel commanded. “Lock down the house, and engage all defenses.” 

The witch’s voice at once called him to attention. With another snap of his fingers, the defensive enchantments of the Dumbledore mansion sprang into life. All of the window shutters of the manse were quickly slammed shut, and pointed bars ascended over all the balconies and doorways. A great force field was created, and emanated outwards from the center of the house. 

Outside, the great stone sphinxes were awakened and leapt forward. One plowed into Noxius head on, and sent him flying across the lawn. Ravenna reacted quicker, and was able to blast off one of the wings, but that did not disarm the animal. Soon, the Hogwarts students were completely occupied, and the attacks on the house ceased for the moment. 

“What was that?!” Brian asked, breathlessly.

“All great magical houses like this have defensive charms. Typically the house elf has control over them,” she said, winking at Foggy. The elf was still shaking, but was happy to be helpful. 

They didn’t have long to enjoy the respite. Once the sphinxes lay in pieces on the ground, Dumbledore’s Army pressed ahead towards the house. Though powerful, the charms were old, and had not been renewed since Albus returned with Ariana. With all five of them on the offensive, they were able to begin penetrating the outer spells. Still, the house, facing certain destruction, marshaled an impressive defense. The many statues that inhabited the roof of the manse, came alive and hurled projectiles down at the incoming invaders.

Inside, Isobel and Brian moved Ariana out of the hall and into the adjacent corridor, with the lower ceiling. Just in time. The great chandelier, hit with another shock wave running through the superstructure, snapped from the roof and came crashing down to the marble floor, shattering across the surface. The old grandfather clock, which had already suffered one death that year, soon followed, and hit the ground face first. 

Ariana’s fit didn’t seem to be letting up at all. Brian gripped her body more tightly to him, but he could barely calm his own muscles. 

Isobel continued to direct them. 

“Foggy—go and find Albus now!” 

With a quick salute, the house elf vanished into thin air. 

The moment after the house elf disappeared, a great blast blew through the music room next to them. The grand piano was hurled against the far wall, and wood and keys were sent flying in all directions. Isobel was quick, and threw a shield around them, protecting them from the flying debris. 

In the next moment, rivers of flame appeared, crawling over the ceiling. 

“Aguamenti!” Isobel commanded. 

Suddenly, a rainstorm materialized above her, and pummeled the emerging flames. Steam vapors burst forth, as the droplets hit the fire. For a time, Brian couldn’t make anything out. Isobel was holding back the flames valiantly, directing the rainstorm where it was most needed. But then there was another explosion in the adjacent hall. More rivers of fire were pouring through shattered windows. They crawled quickly over the walls, and up onto the ceiling. It was not long before the entire roof was engulfed. Bits of plaster and wood were starting to fall above them. 

“We need to get out of here,” Isobel said, her voice beginning to quiver for the first time. 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know—teleport us out of the house or something?” Brian asked.

Isobel looked down at Ariana in his arms. Despite the growing heat of the room, she was white as frost. 

“Not while she’s like this.”

More explosions could be heard in other parts of the house. The crash of furniture and glass shattering up above. They seemed to be coming in from all directions. 

“We’re going to need to move fast,” Isobel said. 

“I have a horse,” Brian offered. 

Oscar must have been absolutely terrified in the stable behind the house. Isobel thought about it for a short moment, and then quickly started formulating their plan. 

“That’s our move. I can distract them, but you won't have much time. Ride fast for the treeline. Once you make it out, you find Albus. You understand?” 

Brian nodded frantically, and started to collect Ariana in his arms. She felt lighter than a child. The roaring ceiling groaned above them. Isobel nodded back at him, and then made her way across the main hall towards the front entrance. Brian heard her yell, “Hurry!” as he started running towards the back door that led to Oscar’s stable. 

As he moved quickly through the burning house, he tried to make sense of everything happening around him. It seemed like the world had broken down in a single night. That he had entered some kind of new world, and he didn’t know the rules. 

He could hear Oscar’s frightful neighing from outside the stable. Inside, the roof was entirely aflame, and the horse was desperately trying to break from his tether. Brian had to set Ariana down in order to calm the animal. Once Oscar felt Brian’s touch he was steadied, and waited as calmly as he could, until Ariana was safely perched in the saddle. Brian lept up behind her, bracing her body with his arms. 

Outside, it was more than a hundred yards between the house and the treeline. He knew he would have to ride as hard as Oscar was able to in order to make it there before they were detected. He took a deep breath in, feeling the burning air in his lungs. The stable was creaking loudly. He knew they didn’t have long. 

Softly, he whispered, “Come on boy, don’t fail me now.” 

With a sharp kick, Oscar reared up and burst through the stable doors, charging swiftly across the field for the dark line of trees at the other end. 

In almost the same moment, Isobel let the great doors of Dumbledore mansion fly open, sending a great shock wave through the air that threw the assailants off their balance. They were stunned by her speed, as she deflected their spells and countered quicker than they could respond. It was a decidedly uneven match, with five of them against her. But Isobel held her own, and moved with an agility that disarmed them. 

Ravenna was thrown to the ground. As she struggled to get back up, she spotted a flash of white moving quickly across the field behind them. 

“They’re headed into the woods!” 

The old stone wall that separated the field from the forest was low enough for Oscar to jump it. As they leapt up, Brian could hear a sharp crack whizzing behind them. They made it over, just missing Ravenna’s curse, which exploded on the wall, sending the stones flying. Oscar landed on the other side, and disappeared into the forest. 

***

Without the lamps of the village, only the sharp flashes from their wands gave off any light. The tall trees, that loomed indifferent overhead, blocked out the starlight, and Albus could only differentiate Gellert and Aberforth by the way they moved. The character of their spellcraft. Aberforth’s frantic, angry curses, and Gellert’s precise, but vicious spells. Their mutual anger fed off each other, but were different in ways Albus could now see plainly. Aberforth’s rage was a kind of liberation, finally able to become alive. Gellert’s was new and unexplored, it contained a hurt which Albus could feel, as he deflected his spells. 

The forest floor sloped downward at a sharp angle, and they were almost tripping downward as they fought. The pressure of Albus’s countercurses shook the ground underneath him. Dirt and rocks tumbled downward alongside him as he ran. Aberforth cast a spell that ricocheted off a tree trunk. The force of it was enough to cause the great tree to tip and fall down towards them. Its roots were ripped up, and the upper leaves crashed through neighboring branches. It slammed against the ground, and started rolling down the hill, causing a small avalanche. The tree hit a large boulder which sent even more debris barrelling down the slope. Albus had just enough time to throw Aberforth out of the path of the boulder. His brother took his action as an attack, and when he regained his footing he shot back at him. 

Albus was fully capable of defending himself against Gellert and Aberfoth’s offensives, but less sure when defending them against each other. Propelled by their rage, they lashed mindless curse after curse towards the other, as they ran through the dark wood. Gellert was clearly more experienced with his wand, but Aberforth’s anger added considerable weight to his spells. He was uncontrollable, and wild. More than once Albus had to push him out of the line of Gellert’s wand. 

They made their way up the next ridge with forested slopes on all sides. Albus shifted the ground underneath Aberforth’s feet, sending him tumbling down the hill, and out of Gellert’s way. 

“Stop this madness!” 

In the light of his wand, Albus could see pain and rage battle in Gellert’s eyes. He had never seen him this wounded. 

“You are the one who is mad!”

A powerful green bolt shot swiftly from Gellert’s wand meeting Albus’s counterspell in the few yards between them. The forest was thrown into sharp relief from the light. The shrubs and ferns of the undergrowth blew wildly. Through his wand, Albus could feel Gellert’s anguish in his palm. 

To his side, Albus heard Aberforth scrambling back up the hill towards them. 

And suddenly, he too was angry. Or he realized he already was. He was angry that the precious stability and peace his life had acquired in the past months had been so definitively destroyed in a matter of hours. He was angry that the fragile reconciliation with his brother seemed irrevocably lost. And he was angry with Gellert, for reasons he felt he was only beginning to realize. Everything felt too late and unfair. 

And he realized that his anger made him powerful. 

He pressed his feelings into his wand. Gellert sensed the shift, and had to move backwards. Albus’s spell was beginning to overcome his own, but Aberforth was almost at the ridge. Just as Aberforth was about to reach them, Albus untangled his wand from Gellert’s, and sent a great shock wave outwards. Both of them were thrown backwards several yards. The great force of Albus’s spell reverberated through the forest like thunder, shaking the trees around them. 

When Gellert and Aberforth got back to their feet, they were afraid. 

***

They rode so fast through the forest that Brian felt like he was flying again. He felt that his heart would break through his chest, and his breath was coming faster than his lungs could pull in air. Oscar leapt over ditches, and down through rivets in the undergrowth. Branches whipped past them, one lashing Brian across the arm. He had no idea where they were going. Forward was the only direction. 

Then, somewhere behind them he heard a swishing sound in the air like a gust of wind. He glanced back to see what looked like a fast moving plume of smoke barreling towards them. He signaled Oscar to go faster, but he knew they wouldn’t be fast enough. He tried to ride in a zig zag, turning hard around tree trunks, but the dark mass was catching up to them. As it came closer, Brian felt like he could almost make out a face in the swirling darkness. 

But just as it was about to reach them, a bright light shot through the forest and collided with the dark entity. The dazzling vapors cleared, and Brian saw it was Isobel tackling one of the witches in midair. They flipped around each other several times, before slamming into the ground in a struggle. 

“Don’t stop!” He heard her shout through the darkness. 

Oscar needed no encouragement, and galloped furiously onward. But it wasn’t long before more black trails of smoke were flying behind them. Brian could count at least three catching up behind, and Isobel was nowhere in sight. 

One of them was flying just a few yards to their left, and was closing the distance between them. A hand appeared through the smoke reaching towards them. They were now separated by only a few feet, and the bodiless hand was nearing Ariana’s face. 

Brian pulled Oscar hard to the right, and a series of trees separated them. When Brian caught sight of the smoke again, there was a wand in its hand. 

“No!” 

But before the spell could reach them, it collided with another. 

It wasn’t Isobel. 

Ariana’s arm was outstretched, and an intense light emanated from her palm. Her eyes were white and ghostly. Brian trembled to behold her, and could feel the energy coursing through her body. She seemed in a realm of her own, out of Brian’s reach.

The strength of her counterspell overwhelmed their assailant, and the wizard was blasted into a nearby cliff-face. Brian finally found his voice again. 

“Ariana?!” was all he could manage to say. 

But if she could hear him, she made no sign. Her eyes were looking somewhere inside her. The rest of her face betrayed no expression. 

They rode on through the wood. The others were not far behind, and gaining ground. In a quick motion, Ariana pushed her hand down to her side, and held it there. A great crack resounded through the air. Behind them, three massive trees, each over a hundred feet tall tumbled to the ground, hitting one of the trails of smoke along the way. 

Then she brought her hands to Oscar’s side, feeling his powerful muscles work underneath them. She started whispering something Brian couldn’t hear above the wind and the horse’s heavy hooves hitting the ground. Slowly, he began to realize Oscar was speeding up. The time between each hoof-fall was getting longer. It felt as if the horse was flying ahead rather than galloping. The trees on either side turned into a blur, and Brian could not tell where they were, or where they were going. It was unclear who was guiding Oscar forward, or if the horse instead was in control. 

But then suddenly the trees thinned out, and Brian perceived that they were in a wide open glade. Moonlight was able to shine through and mark the path. For the first time since they entered the wood, he was able to see far around him. Something glittered in the starlight up ahead. From this distance it looked like a stone monolith, at the other end of the glade. Whatever it was, they were galloping straight for it. 

Just as Brian was beginning to make it out, he heard yells coming from his right. And suddenly, the ground erupted beneath them. Grass and dirt rose into the sky, and Oscar stopped abruptly, rearing up. Brian was thrown from the saddle, and everything went black. 

***

Gellert and Aberforth had to temporarily join their efforts in order to hold Albus back. Neither of them could overcome him alone. Albus had never fought this abandonly, with everything he had. It was liberating to give his wand full reign. Gellert and Aberforth were both pushed down the ridge. 

They soon came into a clearing where the moonlight was able to shine through, and Albus had better vision. He threw Aberforth several yards away so he could corner Gellert alone. Without his temporary ally, Gellert was continuously being pushed back. There was now fear plainly visible in his eyes. 

Albus felt a part of him almost relishing it. He had always approached his relationship with Gellert in terms of absolute equality, but he realized, and he suspected Gellert did as well, that it had never been so. It had been unequal in so many ways. But now they knew—Gellert was no match for him.

And then, as he came closer, and Gellert’s spells were deflected easily, the look in Gellert’s eyes made him pause. He could make out Gellert’s face more clearly in the moonlight, and he remembered before. He remembered when he had first met him, peering over the garden wall in Godric’s Hollow. He remembered the way Gellert used to smile. He remembered that day on the train platform. 

He let his wand drop. 

“Gellert—let’s stop this.” 

Of all the things Gellert could take, pity was not one of them. In an instant his wand was up again, and a green bolt shot forth, meeting Albus’s counterspell. Soon Aberforth had rejoined the fight, ready to draw blood. 

A flash of white appeared at the edge of the treeline, and Albus thought he could hear the sound of hooves galloping. But before he could look closer, a spell, deflected from Gellert’s wand, hit the ground, and the entire glade exploded in a shower of grass and dirt. 

He felt himself hitting the earth. He could see the sky above him, all the fog of the early evening was gone. When he regained his senses, he saw Gellert and Aberforth were clashing again. He quickly jumped up, and tried to come back between them. 

And then, several things happened almost simultaneously, which Albus could only make sense of much later. He saw Oscar, riderless, running back to the shelter of the trees. He saw Gellert shoot a curse at Aberforth that he knew his brother’s spell wouldn’t be able to stop. And then, just as his own spell left his wand, he saw Ariana, hair free in the wind, running towards him. 

He didn’t even have time to scream.

Everything collided at once.

***

As they had flown through the wood, she had guided the horse in the right direction, and cast aside the ones that were chasing them. Doctor Fawkes was afraid, she knew, but they had little time, and she had to get there. The forest helped, for its part, and for the last few hundred yards they were not followed. The horse was going as fast as she could make him, but she knew time was running out. 

They made it to the glade, and there was more light. She became aware that there were others there, but she couldn’t attend to them now. They were so close. Before they had made it halfway across, the earth lifted into the heavens and she lost control of the horse. They were thrown to the ground in a rain of dirt. 

She couldn’t lose focus. From his steady breathing she knew Doctor Fawkes was alright, though his eyes were closed. She got up and ran. Only another hundred yards. She could see it glitter in the moonlight. The old man was smiling at her.

But then she felt a sharp pain in her chest, a bright light, and she felt everything slip. She could feel grass beneath her fingers and was aware that she was no longer running, but on the ground. The moonlight felt warm on her cheek, and just as everything started to fade, she saw Albus’s face above her, Aberforth’s just behind. 

It would be alright. Their faces lingered for a moment, before they too slipped away and were gone. 

Chapter Text

He screamed and screamed into the night sky, and heard his voice echo back to him. Holding her in his arms, Ariana’s body felt like a bundle of dry twigs that would snap with the least amount of pressure. Her eyes were clearer than he had ever seen them. Clear as crystals. But unmoving. He looked up at Gellert. It was like looking into the eyes of a statue. There was no surprise there. It was as if he had known it would end this way. 

Others had entered the glade. Ravenna was soon at Gellert’s side, pulling him away. Gellert took one last look back at Albus, and disapparated. 

Then Albus looked to Aberforth. His brother’s eyes were drenched with tears, and his body was shaking violently. His arms were wrapped tightly around him, clawing at his back. Clawing like he wanted to rip his skin from his body. It seemed as if he was growing smaller. Reversing back into a scared, abandoned boy. It was all too much. Albus could see him breaking. He was starting to take small, almost imperceptible steps backwards.

“Aberforth…” He choked it out through his tears.

Albus leaned over Ariana’s body. He reached with his free hand along the grass towards his brother, beckoning him to come to him. Begging him. 

“Please—don’t.”

Aberforth stared at him with eyes filled with horror. They both knew. He turned, and ran. Albus watched him go. He ran into the trees, and was gone. 

And then Albus was alone. It was over. 

Everything was quiet again. A breeze came and rustled Ariana’s hair. He collapsed over her body and sobbed. 

Eventually he was aware of arms around him. He looked up to see Brian’s tearful eyes looking back at him. Isobel was just behind, with a hand covering her mouth. 

They sat with him, and let him cry into the night. 

***

They buried her by the large willow tree in the field. She had often lingered there when they were outside. Albus could watch her there from the upper stories of the house. He thought she would like it. Albus dug the grave, while Brian, Foggy, and Isobel gathered a blanket of wildflowers. They would lay her in a bed of them. 

Once she was laid down, they stood there for a long time. Unbeknownst to Albus, Brian had brought the gramophone. It had miraculously survived the destruction of the music room, and Isobel had helped to repair its wounds. He placed it at the head of the grave, perched on the roots of the large tree. Isobel had enchanted it. The record slowly turned and played a soft melody. It sounded like a birdsong, its sound traveling in the air over the fields of gently swaying grass. Albus could hear Foggy’s quiet little whimpers at his side, barely hidden by the music. At one point, the elf reached up and grabbed his hand. He allowed it. 

The song slowly came to an end, and they heard the scratch of the disk. 

Ariana’s grave was sealed, and then filled with dirt. After a long moment of silence, staring at the fresh earth, Albus turned and started walking off alone into the woods. Brian wanted to go after him, but Isobel stopped him. 

“Let him go.”

They watched him disappear into the trees, and then they too turned and started making their way to the village. 

Foggy stayed the longest. He whispered into the earth. 

“Good night, little one.” 

***

Brian did not see Albus until the next morning. The night previously, the Dumbledore mansion had burned to the ground. They had gone to the clinic,  and were staying in one of the private rooms. Brian hadn’t noticed when Albus entered, but when he turned over fretfully in the bed he saw Albus sitting at the end with his back to him. It was still dark outside, though he could see through the window that soon the sun would peak over the low hills. 

Neither of them said anything for a while. Brian didn’t know what he wanted to tell him. Albus broke the silence. 

“It was me—Brian,” he said, in a soft, broken voice.

“No—don’t do that,” Brian said, suddenly firm. 

“I did it.”

Brian quickly had his arms around him, hoping they would snuff out his thoughts. 

“It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t do this, Albus. Don’t.” 

His voice was desperate. Albus didn’t fight him. He let Brian hold him, and they sat there in silence. Eventually Brian coaxed Albus to rest his head on the pillow. He shut his eyes, and finally went to sleep. 

***

He did not sleep long. The sun soon rose, and the village became alive outside. They were in a more isolated part of the clinic, but they could hear the bustle of nurses and patients in the main ward. It was thankfully less peopled than on a usual day, and they were unbothered. 

Foggy made them all tea, and they drank it in a weary silence. Albus did not touch his, and let the cup grow cold on the bedside table as he watched the window. Isobel was the first to speak. 

“Albus…what did they want with Ariana?” 

All of them looked at him expectantly. He returned their looks with a blank stare. 

“I’m not sure.” 

But he knew they could have only come for one reason. He was slowly allowing everything to creep back into his mind, as he struggled to make sense of the events of the last twenty-four hours. There was nothing left to do, but tell the truth.

He began to explain to them the nature of Dumbledore’s Army, and their mission. It was the only reason they could have possibly decided to come to Mould-on-the-Wold. Gellert wouldn’t have come for anything else. The connection to Ariana, he did not understand, but clearly they thought she was at the center of the mystery. The words poured out of him, like a dam had been released. He didn’t hide anything. He let them see it all, and let his shame appear plain as day. It was only after, that he dared look at their faces.

Isobel’s eyes grew wide with shock, and she put a hand to her mouth. 

“Albus…this is…”

But she didn’t finish. And for a long time they just stared at him trying to make sense of it. Albus wanted more than anything for someone to yell at him. Blame him, and condemn him. But if their eyes betrayed anything other than confusion, it was pity. Brian’s eyes were the hardest to decipher, but Albus could see there was no judgment in them. 

“But what is this weapon?” Brian asked finally. 

Albus looked at him for a long moment. He realized that Brian was also weary. He could hear it in his voice.

“Don’t you see? It doesn’t exist. It never did. It’s a ploy designed to arouse fear and prejudice. It’s the perfect justification for them to use whatever means necessary to get what they want.”

How long had he known it? Had he always?

“But Albus…” Isobel began, “Merlin’s Anniversary…Hogwarts.”

“Yes,” Albus realized it too. “I’m sure they’re planning something now that they’ve failed to find the weapon. And it’s bound to end in violence.” 

“Albus, the Anniversary is tonight!” 

“I know, we need to go.” 

“Should we go to the Ministry?” she asked, her anxiety clearly growing by the minute.

Albus thought for a moment, but the cold sneer of Lord Viserius came to his mind. 

“No—they’ve infiltrated the Ministry,” he said. “But we need to alert the school as soon as we can.” 

He mustered all the strength he had left, and he surprised them with his sudden resolve. His body felt as if he could collapse at any moment, but he knew he needed to move forward. 

“Foggy can help Master Albus!” Foggy jumped in. He ran up to Albus. The house elf hadn’t followed the threads of the conversation entirely, but he was determined to be helpful whatever came. 

“No Foggy,” Albus said, kneeling down to him. “I can’t ask that of you.” 

“I will come with you,” Brian said adamantly. 

“No,” Albus almost yelled, turning to him. He grasped Brian’s arms in his hands, and held to him as if some force were about to rip them apart. 

“I need to make sure you’re safe. Gellert…” He didn’t know what the end of the sentence was. “Foggy will stay here with you and protect you. Please, do this for me?”

Albus’s eyes were pleading. Isobel could already see what Brian was going to say in response. 

“I’ll protect him,” she said. 

Brian finally relented. Albus embraced him tightly. When they separated, Albus turned and left through the door to the main ward. Isobel gave Brian a sympathetic look, before following behind. 

Albus didn’t have the heart to look back. 

Chapter Text

Hogwarts.

At long last the night had arrived, and great crowds of witches and wizards descended on Hogwarts. Examinations were over, summer had just begun, and students and teachers gave in to celebration. Old papers and exams were tossed into the wind. The castle was ornately decorated for the occasion, with streaming flags down its halls. A massive parade marched across the main bridge. Everyone was colorfully dressed, and performers made spectacles along the way. 

The Minister of Magic led the procession. His closest advisors following behind. As he waved to the onlookers, fireworks exploded far up overhead. The facade of the castle, and the Black Lake below, were bathed in a thousand colors. The crowds roared.

Albus had never felt weaker in all his life. His muscles felt as if they had atrophied overnight. Could he even lift his wand if he needed to? One foot forward and then another, he told himself. But he had to pause frequently. The grief, shame and despair mixed together in a pain so acute it forced him to stop and shut his eyes. He had to wait and let the pain pass before moving on. He tried to keep his mind on the path forward, but he could only hold out for so long. He was disgusted with himself. Not just for what he, Aberforth and Gellert had done. But for all the things that had come before that were also to blame. For how wrong he had been about everything. For how much he had lied to himself. For all the years of Ariana’s life he had wasted. No more time to make amends. To see her happy. Everything was left behind, trapped in the glade in the forest forever. 

Faces came to him whenever he closed his eyes. Gellert’s unfeeling appraisal of events. Isobel’s shock as he told her the truth, and Brian’s indecipherable stare. Aberforth’s childlike fear and desperation before he fled into the woods. And then Ariana, who no matter how closely he held her was the furthest away. 

He knew that for however longer he lived, he would be haunted. 

He had little strength left to fight with the headmaster. 

“But you must believe us,” Isobel pleaded. 

“Grindelwald is a misguided boy, but he is not a terrorist.” 

The headmaster was unexpectedly defensive of Gellert. They were in his office. The light of the fireworks outside beamed intermittently through the windows. Even up here, they could hear the faint cheer of the crowds. 

“He is capable of anything, sir.”

Headmaster Black paused at Albus’s tone, but then brushed past it quickly. The planning for the celebrations had taken some time and effort. He was not going to throw it away now for whatever this was. 

“Albus,” he began, adopting the voice of a disapproving patriarch once more, “The security around the Minister of Magic, and around this castle, is considerable. I should not worry yourself about anyone’s safety. I will admit Grindelwald is guilty of skipping out on his exams, but certainly not of this plot you are describing—”

“That can’t be your response!” Isobel had more energy to be angry than Albus. 

“Miss Ross, I suggest you go down and enjoy the celebrations with the other students. Tomorrow we can begin to sort out what to do with Gellert Grindelwald.” 

And with that, he strode swiftly from the room. They heard the sound of the moving staircase as he went down. Isobel gave out a flabbergasted huff.

“I’m not sure if I ever realized what an imbecile that man is.” 

Albus was also shocked to be so dismissed by the headmaster. He was not used to adults disbelieving him. Headmaster Black had barely given their story a moment of thought before rejecting it. The underestimation of Gellert was particularly concerning, given Gellert’s record with the headmaster. 

“We need to find someone else who will listen to us.”

“And quickly,” Isobel added.

Another firework exploded outside. Red and orange lights descended from the skylight. Albus suddenly looked up at Isobel. 

“I know who we need to speak to.”

***

Undersecretary Kay straightened his tie as he surveyed the crowd, and continued with the procession. Returning to Hogwarts had always made him uneasy. Miles had wonderful memories of the school no doubt, but he had been bullied in his early years at Hogwarts. Many memories came back to him as he walked through the halls. Both joyful and painful.

The noise was deafening in the stone passageways. A sea of cheering students spread out around him, blocked by just a few guards protecting the higher ministers. He knew that in many of them, behind the innocent, young eyes, there lurked cruelty. 

Gwen, Lucan and Marie walked a few paces behind. Marie looked back at him supportively. Miles had been given an honor to be so close to the Minister of Magic. He was in the inner circle now. A few yards back, he caught sight of the stern face of Lord Viserius, his long white hair shone impeccably. He seemed unaffected by the celebrations, and almost displeased, as if he was counting the minutes until it was over. His cronies walked not far behind him.

But mine are closer to Minister Spavin now, Miles thought, smiling to himself. He met Viserius's eye and his smile quickly vanished. Viserius’s cold gaze lingered for a moment, before returning to the crowds. 

The procession continued through the corridors and came to a halt outside the doors of the Great Hall. The headmaster finally joined them. Miles didn’t care for him, and thought him rather pompous. He was clearly putting on the show for Minister Spavin. Everything was low bows and aggressive smiles. Spavin took his hand, and then the reporters descended. There was a succession of bright bursting lights, as floating cameras took their picture. It would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. 

Just as the Minister was beginning to make his way into the Great Hall, Miles saw two students running down the adjacent hallway. As they ran closer, he realized who they were. They were stopped by the crowds and the guards before they could get to him.

“Mr. Kay! Mr. Kay!” Isobel called out. She struggled to make her voice heard over the crowd, and only a few teachers and students around her even noticed. 

Miles left the procession and came closer. Guards were blocking her from approaching, but he told them to let her pass. When he came up to her, he saw that she was out of breath and looked almost frightened. The Dumbledore boy was just behind her. Miles’s eyes narrowed when he looked at Albus. He had not forgotten their last meeting. It looked like the boy hadn’t either, though he seemed changed. He avoided making eye contact.

“Please, Undersecretary. We need your help!” Isobel whispered to him anxiously as he came closer to them. 

“What?!” 

“We think there might be an attack,” Albus said in a low voice.

Miles stared at him, and tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“We’re not sure how,” Isobel added, “but we think it will be during the ceremony.”

Miles didn’t know what to say in response. His confusion was clear on his face.

“Please,” Albus pleaded, “The Minister of Magic has to be warned.” 

Miles could see that the boy believed what he was telling him. But it was all too much to be accepted so quickly, and certainly not something he felt he could just whisper into Spavin’s ear. Besides, he was still unsure if he trusted the boy. 

“Please,” Isobel repeated, grabbing hold of Miles’s arm. 

There was genuine fear in her eyes, but he knew not what of. 

“Miles!” 

He turned to see Gwen calling him from the door to the Great Hall. The procession had moved on, and he would be needed by the Minister soon. 

“I must go,” he said curtly to them, before turning and heading into the Great Hall. 

They watched him go, crestfallen. Time was running out. 

When Isobel turned back to Albus, he was looking elsewhere. 

“Albus?!” 

He didn’t hear her. He was looking back down the hallway they had come through. 

“Albus!”  

Albus looked back at her suddenly. 

“We need a new plan!” she said. 

“Head into the Great Hall with the others, and try to get to Professor Dippet. I need to check something out.”

He pulled his wand from his coat. 

“Have yours ready too.”

His eyes were trembling slightly, but she understood. She nodded quickly, and then joined the tight mob that was now pouring into the Great Hall. As she was pushing through the entrance, she looked back to see Albus slowly walking away down the corridor. 

As he made his way down the passage, the crowd thinned, until there were only a few stragglers heading with the rest towards the Great Hall. He thought he had seen a face in the crowd. A face he had recognized, but it disappeared when he looked a second time. 

He came to the end of the corridor, which led onto three other passages. It was darker here, and the noise of the celebration had faded. He tried to summon the energy he knew he would need, but his body felt dangerously weak. He picked the passage to his right, and cautiously walked down it to the next intersection. The party now seemed very far away, as if in another world. 

He stopped at the next intersection, and waited a moment. He started as if he was going down the leftmost passage, but then quickly spun around to the right. His wand raised. 

Gellert was there, leaning against a wall, waiting for him. 

***

The light of the lantern only reached a few yards ahead, but when the clouds weren’t blocking the moon he could see farther. Brian knew the path, but everything seemed strange and unfamiliar as he approached. The two stone sphinxes were gone, and all that was left of the familiar silhouette of the mansion was a chimney and a few sections of the outer walls. 

He had left Foggy alone in the clinic. The elf was alternatively fretful and despondent. Running around trying to be helpful, or sitting alone silently and brooding. Brian couldn’t take it. He realized that Foggy hadn’t left the estate in many years. The removal was testing him, along with everything else. He didn’t feel like he was helping, so Brian told the elf he was going to the market. Foggy didn’t understand muggle markets, so he didn’t question the late hour, and Brian slipped out easily. 

He walked up the steps of the terrace and came to where the front door once stood. Two feet of frame was all that was left of it. The smell of charred wood filled his nostrils. As he raised the lantern he could see that parts of the house were still smoking. The grand staircase now rose only to his shoulders. He couldn’t recognize where the kitchen or the drawing room once were. 

It was odd, this house. When he was a child it had been known as the ghost house. A haunted place. A place even David wouldn’t go. Even as he grew older, and stopped believing in ghost stories, the house filled him with unease. He had tried to be above superstition, for the village’s sake, as he knew many of them looked up to him. But even he had avoided the dark house at the edge of the wood. 

And then there was the past few months, and the house became something else entirely. He had seen it through new eyes. It was alive, and warm, and beautiful. In the last days, he realized it felt like a home to him. 

And now it was a ghost house again. A place to be mourned. 

His foot hit something on the ground he hadn’t seen. As he brought the lantern closer, he realized what it was. It was the handle of the broomstick. He reached down and picked it up. Only a foot of it survived. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it back on the ground, with the other remains. He sat down on the foot of the staircase and placed the lantern by his feet. He felt the broom with his hands. They were getting covered in soot, but he didn’t care. 

He had tried to stem Albus’s guilt, and comfort him. He had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault. But the truth was he too felt guilty. He also felt culpable. He had provoked Gellert. He pretended like he hadn’t but he did. When Albus had first mentioned him to Brian, he knew immediately how it was. He saw it far more clearly than Albus did. Or more clearly than Albus had allowed himself to see it. And when Gellert had barged in, and he was exactly as Brian had pictured him, he wanted to fight back. There were no weapons in his hands, but he knew exactly what would hurt Gellert the most. He couldn’t resist. And he had felt powerful, even with Gellert’s wand in his face. He had what Gellert did not. And he had relished it. 

But then everything collapsed. And now he felt powerless again. He had flown too close to the sun, and was now drowning helpless in the sea. More than at any other time, he felt like a muggle. 

From his seat on the steps, he could look out past where the walls once were into the fields. He saw the willow tree, and the path back to the village. He saw the hill he remembered from all those years ago. 

And then he looked at the treeline. He gasped. He got up so quickly he kicked over the lantern, which blew out. 

Far against the trees, he saw a figure in white. In the moonlight, he could see her hair blowing in the breeze. 

***

Albus kept his wand up, but Gellert stayed by the wall, his arms crossed in front of him. Looking at him, Albus realized that he had changed. His eyes were tired, and his bright blonde hair had dimmed a shade. His bitterness made his face look more gaunt. He seemed aged somewhat. He was still coldly handsome, but he was not the carefree student Albus had once known. 

Gellert made a conscious effort to relax, and the lines in his face eased a bit. He looked at the floor for a moment, before looking back at Albus. When their eyes met, Gellert’s had softened. 

“I’m sorry…about Ariana.” 

Albus said nothing. He could tell Gellert meant what he said, but it wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have. He kept his wand raised.

“Gellert, whatever you’re planning—don’t do it.” 

“Do you remember that summer in Godric’s Hollow? We used to go swimming in the river every day. And you were afraid to get your books wet.” 

He seemed to be talking to another Albus. Someone who wasn’t there.

“We used to talk about all the great things we would do when we went to school. Such boyish dreams we had. I remember you said once, that as long as we were together that would be enough for you.” 

He let it sit in the air between them. For a moment, Albus also felt the glow of those memories. 

“Why have you abandoned me?” 

“I haven’t Gellert.” 

“Yes, you have. You should be by my side right now.” 

“Gellert … this is wrong. We were wrong.”

“You’re just saying that because of him !”

His voice had raised. He moved away from the wall where he had been standing. Albus let his wand drop to his side. He knew Gellert wanted to fight with his words now.

“No, I’m not.” 

Gellert’s nostrils were flaring, and Albus could see the veins in his temples clearly. 

“I don’t understand what’s happened to you Albus,” his voice was straining. “Can’t you see they’re winning?!” 

He pointed back in the direction of the Great Hall. Albus could hear the voice of the Minister of Magic in the distance. His speech had begun. 

“I don’t think anyone’s winning.” 

“You can’t believe that—Albus! The weapon!” 

Albus sighed.

“Gellert …the weapon doesn’t exist.” 

Gellert didn’t say anything, but let out a short, cynical laugh. 

“It was a wild goose chase,” Albus continued. “We spent an entire year searching and we never found any evidence of it. It was a fiction created by Mordred to justify whatever you’ve planned for tonight.” 

“You’re wrong.” 

“Gellert—”

“I know it’s real.” 

They could hear the sound of applause in the distance. Albus came closer to him. 

“Gellert—please. Stop this. No more violence.”

They met each other’s eyes. There was a tempest in Gellert that Albus could see. He didn’t know whether Gellert was about to yell or cry. 

“I don’t understand it,” Gellert said finally. 

“Neither do I. Gellert—please don’t do this.” 

Albus took another step towards him. At first Gellert recoiled, but then he stopped where he was. Albus waited, and then came closer. 

“Gellert, please.”

Suddenly, Gellert came up to him, grabbing hold of his shirt. Albus reached for his wand, but then he felt Gellert’s lips on his. It was rough and desperate. Gellert's hand reached for the back of his neck, and held Albus’s face to his. Gellert’s tears dripped onto Albus’s cheek. In his mouth, Albus tasted blood. 

And then his hands were on Gellert’s chest, pushing him gently away. Albus turned his head to the side, breaking the kiss. He couldn’t look at him. Gellert’s face fell into his neck. Albus heard him sob quietly, and felt his body shake.

“How did I lose you?” Gellert asked.

Albus didn’t know what to say. He tried to reach his arms around Gellert, but as he did so Gellert pulled away, and turned his back to him. 

Albus reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the silver necklace he had hid there. He walked over to the window sill nearest them, and placed it on the stone. He could tell Gellert heard it. 

“Do you love him?” Gellert said, without turning. His voice was higher and labored. 

“I love you too, Gellert.” 

Far away, the Minister of Magic continued on. 

“The future lies in these halls…” 

Just as Albus was about to take a step towards him, Gellert spun around with his wand raised. Albus countered his spell just in time. Their wands locked, and the sharp light of their spells reflected off stone walls. 

“Gellert—!”

Their wands unlocked, but before they could engage again, they heard a loud explosion come from the direction of the Great Hall. Screams soon followed. Albus turned to see smoke pouring into the hall behind him. 

When he looked back at Gellert, his red eyes were filled with grim determination.

Chapter Text

He pushed his way through the undergrowth, leaves and branches lashing against his outstretched arms. Brian didn’t know where he was being taken, but up ahead, he could still see the glimmer of white through the trees. He was struggling to keep his breath steady. He walked down through a small pass, and then leapt over the stream. Soon the trees began to thin, and it became easier to walk. Suddenly, he realized where they were going. The realization made him stop. 

In the glade, he could see her at the other end, walking through the grass. She glanced back at him before moving on. There was no doubt it was her. 

He ran ahead. It seemed like he could never get closer to her, even though she never went faster than a gentle stroll . They were nearing the other end of the glade, and up ahead he could see the monolith come into view. As he approached, he saw that it was actually a statue. An old, wizened man, with a staff in his hand. The statue was covered in vines and roots. A small tree grew out of his back, and shaded him from the moonlight. 

A memory stirred within him, and everything felt oddly familiar. She walked onward, and without a pause, went right through the statue, vanishing into the stone. 

Brian yelled out, but got control of himself quickly. He had already come this far. Slowly, he edged closer to the statue. The old man’s face seemed to smile back at him. He reached out a trembling hand towards the stone, but stopped just a few inches from the surface. 

Albus’s face came to him all of a sudden. He remembered Albus pulling him towards the broomstick. And in that moment he felt propelled forward. He placed his hand upon the stone, and then everything started moving. He was tugged in a thousand directions. The statue and the glade were suddenly swept away, and when the sky reappeared the clouds were different. 

His feet found the ground again. He was still in a forest, but it wasn't the same. The trees were tight and close to him. The wind was swirling the branches violently about, and everything felt untethered. It was colder here, and he was frightened. He tried to calm himself as he looked around him. 

And then he caught sight of her again through two trees. Her dress shone brightly through the trunks. He started running towards her. Just as before, she was always another hundred yards away. He soon realized he was running downhill. He heard the sound of the water before he saw the shore of the lake. 

***

They had come in with the crowd, several of them disguised with the aid polyjuice potion, as Albus had suspected. At the set signal, they set off the explosion, and attacked. Half of the Ministry bodyguards were down in the first strike, and soon the other half were blindingly firing their wands in every direction. Smoke filled the room, and made it hard to see. The assailants seemed to be coming from every corner, and the guards could not tell the difference between the attackers and the students. The hall erupted in a panic.

By the time Albus arrived at the Great Hall, everything was in chaos. Students were running out of the front doors, and he needed to fight against the tide to get in. They weren’t getting far. He saw the face of the werewolf from Diagon Alley behind him, attacking any who made it out. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” 

The werewolf’s body became as rigid as a log, and he fell backwards. He disappeared underneath the feet of fleeing students. 

As Albus forced his way in, he saw Isobel had found Miles and they were both fending off five other witches and wizards. Many were still too shocked to react. Headmaster Black looked helpless behind the faculty table, though some of the teachers were beginning to join the fray. He saw Professor Dippet at the other end of the Hall gather students behind him, and fend off a powerful wizard. Among the faces in the crowd, he caught sight of Corvus and Noxius. Before they could react he disarmed them, and sent them flying across the room. 

“Albus!” He heard Isobel’s voice yell behind him. 

She was getting desperate. It was Mordred, closing in on Isobel and Miles. Mordred looked like an aggravated bull finally let into the ring. Albus could see blood in his eyes. He pushed forward, reaching them just in time. Mordred’s curse was deflected as the three of them joined forces. He gave Albus a fearsome glare before turning back to Miles. 

“I see you have children fighting for you now, mudblood!” he yelled. 

“So do you!” Miles yelled back. 

A bright red light shot from his wand, colliding with Mordred’s own. Isobel and Albus aided the undersecretary, and soon Mordred was defending himself against three spells. He was pushed back towards the wall, and seemed on the verge of giving in, when a great booming voice echoed through the hall. 

“Drop your wands!” 

The hall went silent, as everyone looked towards the dias, where they found the icy face of Lord Viserius. His wand was pointed directly into the neck of the Minister of Magic. Minister Spavin hadn’t been able to move for much of the commotion. Instead he watched in horror, as the scene unfolded. He was still frozen when Viserius reached him. He looked upon Viserius, still not comprehending what had happened. 

“Victor?”

By then, only a few guards remained to surrender. Everyone let their wands drop to the ground. Viserius began slowly moving towards the doors of the Hall, Spavin in tow. 

“Back away!” he yelled to the frightened students below the dias. 

The crowds parted, letting him and the Minister of Magic through. Others emerged from the crowd. Albus recognized them from the grotto below Diagon Alley. They started gathering the wands from the floor. Mordred grabbed Miles by the shoulders, and pushed him forward. 

“You as well, mudblood.”

As Miles was pulled away, Marie reached for him and called out. 

“It’ll be alright,” he told her. 

Mordred pushed Miles after the Minister of Magic. The other members of the Knights watched on helplessly. 

“Them too,” Gellert said, pointing his wand towards Albus and Isobel. He barely looked at them. 

Albus hadn’t seen him enter. Suddenly arms were on him, dragging him and Isobel along with others out of the Great Hall. 

“Grindelwald!” 

Headmaster Black seemed to have finally found his voice. He gave Gellert a furious stare from the dias. Though he knew it was over, he still appeared daunting. Gellert looked at Black coldly before raising his wand. The headmaster was blasted into his chair and knocked out. 

Gellert turned and joined the others. Once through the archway, four wizards and a witch waved their wands over the frightened crowd. In an instant, everyone left in the Great Hall became still. They were like a garden of statues, frozen in time. Mordred commanded a few to search the castle for stragglers, as the rest made their way down the nearest corridor. 

They were pushed along several different passageways and three flights of stairs before Albus realized where they were headed. Gellert led the way like a commander. The grillwork of the doors to the Room of Requirement appeared from the wall, and opened just as Gellert approached. They were all dragged into the room, and the doors slammed shut behind them. It was the perfect place to hide the Minister of Magic. No one would know where to look for them here. 

The Room of Requirement was exactly as he had left it, but it seemed darker than in Albus’s memory. There was more rust around the mirrors, and the torches on the walls barely gave off light. The room smelled of must and decay. Had he really spent months here pouring over books? It seemed like a lifetime ago, he didn’t recognize himself in the memory. 

Minister Spavin, Miles, Isobel and Albus were thrown to the ground.  All the members of Dumbledore’s Army were there, as well as seven other wizards and witches from the grotto, not including Mordred and Viserius. They looked like hungry dogs, frothing at the mouth.

Once they were on their knees, Mordred took charge. He went right for the undersecretary, who looked back up at him defiantly. 

“All right mudblood, time to pay the account.” 

***

The wind was picking up, and it seemed as if a storm were about to descend. The lake was churning like a whirlpool, and the water was whipped into the air at the surface. It was colder than before, and Brian wished he had brought his jacket. He had nothing but a waistcoat and shirt sleeves to keep him warm. He looked about him on the bank of the lake, feeling lost, and unsure what to do next. But then he saw her again. 

She was out in the middle of the lake, walking on the water. She stood there calmly and watched him. Her eyes were like glass. The shine of her dress reflected on the water around her. She turned her head slowly to the left, looking down the coastline. As Brian followed her gaze, he found what he was looking for. With the moonlight peaking through fast moving clouds, he could see the silhouette of a boat far off along the shore. 

He rowed out into the lake, pushing furiously against the water. He could feel how violently it was moving beneath him. The waves shook the sides of the small rowboat. A sense of urgency had overtaken him somewhere along the way. He felt if he didn’t reach her quickly, something would go terribly wrong. 

She went ahead, tip-toeing on the lake’s surface. Her feet were barefoot. Brian had to stop several times to catch his breath. His hands were red and raw from the oars. He looked up again at her. She was looking back at him and waiting. And then he saw behind her. He could see the shape of a small island in the distance. 

He knew exactly where he was. 

He looked back to the coast. There was a large promontory on the shore line. He knew the castle was there, though his eyes could not see it.

She beckoned him forward, and he rowed on. 

He finally made it to the shore of the island, and dragged the boat onto the grass. The island consisted of no more than a few dozen tall trees rising around a small hill at the center. She was waiting for him at the hilltop. 

At last, he was able to close the distance between them. But then, just as he was getting near to her, her body shot downward, slipping into the ground as if she had fallen through a trapdoor. He yelled, and jumped onto his hands and knees. He felt around on the grass, but it was solid and real. 

He got back up, and felt alone again. A cloud passed over the moon, and the lake was suddenly very dark. He shivered and wrapped his arms around him. 

Gradually, he began to feel the ground shake underneath him. At first, he thought it was only in his mind. But then, as he grabbed hold of a nearby tree trunk, he felt the vibrations running through the bark. And suddenly the ground started to pull back. Right at the crest of the hilltop, a hole was appearing. Brain walked backwards quickly, heading for the safety of a boulder close by. He could hear a loud crack, like the sound of thunder, as roots and stone were ripped apart. As the hole widened, Brian could see a cross appear, with four sides pulling away from each other. They were four sections of a circle that was forming in the ground. Trembling, he watched as the hole grew wider. 

All of sudden, the rumbling stopped. Brian waited a few moments, wondering if something else would happen, and let his heart calm itself. When he mustered enough courage, he got down off of the boulder, and walked back to the hilltop. Once he got to the edge of the wide hole, he could see that there were steps leading down. 

And then the clouds passed away from the moon, and the island was bathed in light. As Brian looked inside, he gasped. 

***

Once again, Mordred repeated the question. 

“Where is the weapon?!” 

Despite nearly an hour of being tortured, Miles was still defiant, and remained speechless. 

“Crucio!” Mordred yelled again. 

The undersecretary was on the floor, writhing in pain. The skin of his neck was pulled taunt as he clenched his jaw. They could all see the sweat growing on his face. Miles was strong, and could take a considerable amount of pain, but even he was reaching his breaking point from the constant torture. They all knew stories of victims that went insane from the cruciatus curse. No one knew what the exact threshold was. 

Mordred’s increasing impatience was visible to everyone, except perhaps Spavin, who was still in complete shock. He had little idea what was happening around him, and looked about in fear and confusion. 

“Please—” Isobel interjected. “He doesn’t know!” 

“Shut up, you twit!” Ravenna said, coming forward with her wand pointed at Isobel. 

Albus could see she had a black eye and a cut on her lip. Albus figured it must have been from the other night. She was angry.

He looked at Gellert, who had been watching them since they entered the Room of Requirement. He tried to plead with his eyes, but Gellert’s face was oddly expressionless. 

There was nothing to do other than watch the man get tortured. 

“You’re running out of time, mudblood! Tell me where it is.”

Miles did not reply, and coughed up some spit on the floor. 

Everything seemed faintly ridiculous to Albus. He was as confused as Spavin was. Was he about to watch someone else die? Everything was mad. The rules that underpinned the world were pulled away. 

Mordred resumed the curse. 

“Mordred, enough!” Albus finally yelled. “The weapon doesn’t exist! He clearly has no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Mordred stopped the torture, and looked towards Albus. 

“We spent an entire year looking for it, and found nothing. It never existed—You wanted it to be true, so you made it true.” 

Mordred stared at him. His eyes were narrow and searching.

“It never existed, Mordred,” Albus repeated. 

Mordred pointed his wand towards Albus. 

“I see now you were working with them the whole time.” 

He came closer, leaving Miles a moment to breathe on the floor. 

“What would Percival Dumbledore say, I wonder? Knowing his eldest son is a blood traitor?” 

His wand was edging closer towards Albus. Isobel yelled out, but Albus made no sound. He prepared himself for whatever Mordred had in store. Miles suddenly spoke. 

“He doesn’t know anything about it,” Miles managed to choke out. 

They all looked back at him, even Spavin. 

“He wasn’t a part of the plan.” 

He needed to take a few more moments to regain his speech. They all waited intently for him to continue. 

“We were never going to use it. We only wanted to protect it until after the celebration.”

Mordred didn’t let him explain further. 

“No! You planned to unleash the weapon during the Minister’s speech. If we hadn’t stopped you, all the purebloods in Hogwarts would be dead.” 

“You’re mad,” Miles said.

Mordred came back to him quickly with his wand. 

“Don’t deny it! This was always your plan. You intended to use the weapon against us.” 

“I can’t use the weapon.” 

Mordred hit him across the face with a fist. Miles’s body smacked against the stone floor. 

“Stop lying, and answer me!” 

Miles didn’t respond immediately, and let air return to his lungs. 

“I’m not lying.” 

Mordred took the tip of his wand and pressed it underneath Miles’s jaw, pulling him up off the floor. 

“You are, mudblood,” Mordred said, lowering his voice, “You were going to use that weapon to kill me, weren’t you.” 

Miles looked him directly in the eyes. 

“I don’t need a weapon to kill you.” 

“Crucio!” 

Miles was thrown back to the floor. It looked like his eyes would pop out of their sockets. 

“Where is it?!” Mordred yelled again when he stopped. 

Miles seemed close to blacking out. 

“I don’t know.” 

Mordred was nearing the end of his patience. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I never knew where it was hidden,” Miles responded faintly. Albus could tell he was earnest. Mordred didn’t. 

“That’s not true, you planned to unleash it tonight!” 

“I told you I can’t use it.”

“You lie! I know the secret! Only a mudblood can use the weapon!”

And then Miles started to laugh. It was the last thing anyone expected. Even Mordred was caught off guard.

“Is that what you think?” Miles asked him, smiling. He shook his head, and continued laughing. 

Mordred was not pleased to be laughed at, and looked it. 

“Torture me all night, Snake,” Miles said. “It won’t get you any closer to what you want.” 

Mordred raised his wand and came closer.

Chapter Text

The Black Lake.

Brian remembered when his brother’s body was found, and brought back to the village. After he returned home that night, he led the men of the village to the clearing. He remembered their many lanterns scattered through the trees, and his father looking down at him with his soot covered face and sad eyes. He remembered him keeping hold of Brian’s suspender the entire time they were in the wood. He never let go. In his other hand, he held the gun they kept in the cellar. He remembered his father’s voice, which was soft and tender. 

“Which way, Brian?” he asked him. “Stay close to me.” 

He could not go into the clearing where he knew they were, but only pointed at it when they came close. He waited, while the other men went into the glade and found them. 

He remembered the terrible anticipation of their search. Along the way, he thought perhaps he had made it all up. Everything that he had seen in the glade. The dark man and the flashes of green. The strange boy. And when they made it to the glade there was a horrific kind of hope in him. But he hadn’t imagined anything. It was all real. And he remembered the sound of grown men wailing. The rest of the memory, he had long since suppressed. 

As he stood on the island, at the edge of the great chasm that had opened on the hilltop, he remembered how he felt that night, waiting for the men to return. He was filled with a dreadful kind of hope that he couldn’t explain. 

And then the clouds passed away from the moon and he could see below. The hole was not as deep as it first seemed, and the stairs that had appeared quickly reached the bottom. It couldn’t have been deeper than a man’s height. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw it.

At the other end of the hole, there was a large angular stone. And in the stone was a sword. 

And so everything fitted into place, and he understood. He walked down the steps carefully, and paused after he reached the bottom. The stone seemed unnatural in a way. It had many fine grains in it, and looked as if it had been pushed upwards out of the ground. 

The sword itself looked very old, rusted and worn. There were runes carved into the blade, and the hilt appeared to be covered in vines. Upon looking closer, he realized it was the many roots and branches of a tree. Black as ash. Parts of the hilt had broken off, but the sword still looked sturdy and ready. 

He stood there, and looked at it for a long time. The incredible momentum that had brought him this far had finally run out. He knew exactly what he was being asked to do, but as he looked at it he couldn’t help but feel inadequate. He felt like the wrong person, at the wrong place, at the wrong time. And yet he could feel the pull of the universe bearing down on him, drawing him closer. 

I can’t, I can’t. 

But then he felt Albus’s hand again, reaching out and grabbing him, pulling him onto the broom. He came closer. Suddenly his hands were on the hilt, and they were pulling. He pulled upward and out. And there was no struggle. The blade gave way easily. It slid from the stone, and he lifted it up into the air. 

And then everything changed around him. Like a veil being pulled from his eyes. The moon turned into the sun, and the stars turned into a bright blue sky. The sudden daylight was so intense, he had to look away. When he opened his eyes again he saw flower petals falling all around him like snow. The trees surrounding him were covered in blossoms. He turned around, and then he saw her. She was standing at the top of the stairs, still in her white gleaming dress. She had a wide, warm smile on her face. 

“Hello, Dr. Fawkes.” 

“Ariana?”

Her arms opened and beckoned him towards her. All of a sudden, his eyes filled with tears. 

“No—don’t cry,” she said. “Come, sit here with me.”

He wiped his tears away, and ascended the steps. She ushered him over to a long stone that served as a bench. They sat silently for a few moments, and appreciated the scenery. He could see that he was still on the island, but everything had changed. It was now daytime, and the blooming forest on the shores looked different, fuller it seemed. He closed his eyes and took in the smell of it. The tears dried on his cheek. 

He realized the sword was still in his hand. When he looked down at it, he was astonished to find that it too had changed. The blade looked polished and sharp. The runes on its surface appeared as if they had just been carved. The hilt was repaired, and the design on it was painted and jeweled. The tree that seemed to grow out of the pommel was flowering diamonds. And Brian noticed, perched at the cross of the hilt, a red bird extending wings of rubies.

“It has been made new,” Ariana said, noticing his gaze. 

He looked back at her. She spoke with a clarity that he had never heard before. And her eyes looked directly into his. 

“Ariana…where are we?”

“We’re at Hogwarts—before it was created.” 

She turned and pointed to the large promontory on the far shore of the lake. 

“That is where the castle will be built.” 

Her manner was easy and unperturbed. It seemed like they were old friends, just enjoying another day in the sunshine. 

“Ariana…what is this?” he asked, holding the sword aloft. 

She gave a short laugh. It was beautiful to hear. 

“But you already know what it is—don’t you?” 

He looked at her with a weary expression, and said nothing. She turned away from him and looked towards the horizon. 

“In the first age of magic, those who could wield it and those who could not lived together, and there was peace among them. And it was beautiful.” 

She spoke as if they were there.

Were they? Brian thought.

“But even then, there was a darkness. Though very small then, almost imperceptible. A quiet darkness. And it was growing.” 

A shadow passed over her eyes, but she did not lose her warmth. 

“It was a great wizard who first noticed it. He saw the darkness for what it was, and what it would be. He feared for those who could not use magic. And so he created a defense for them.”

Here she looked at the blade. Brian followed her eyes. 

“A device that could not be used by any who were born with the ability to use magic.” 

She reached out her hand then, and wiped away a stray tear that had fallen down his cheek. 

“But not just anyone could wield it,” she said, leaning closer to him. “Only those that understand the purest and deepest forms of magic could pull the sword from the stone. At the closing of the first age of magic there was a dark time, and the sword needed to be used. It gave itself to a young man, not unlike you, and a great many were saved.”

Brian let the sword drop to the ground, and put his head in his hands. 

“This isn’t for me, Ariana.” He felt tears coming back to him again. “I’m wrong.” 

He felt her hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not—you are the one.” 

He looked back at her, his eyes red and streaming. 

“But I don’t know the deepest and purest forms of magic!” he said, exasperated. 

She laughed at him. 

“Of course you do.” 

He had to look away, and let the rest of his tears run out of him. Neither of them spoke for a long while. 

“Brian,” she said, “They need you—Albus needs you.” 

“I’m not a wizard, Ariana.” 

“They don’t need a wizard.” 

He looked back at her. Her smile was powerful. 

“How can I get into a castle I can’t even see?”

She reached out and held his hand tightly. 

“Hold the sword close to you, and everything that blocks your path will be swept aside. Take courage—and it will not fail you.” 

Brian looked at the sword distrustfully. It still lay in the grass, ready for him.  He leaned down and picked it back up.

“Listen carefully. You won’t be alone in this battle. The castle is alive. You need only brandish the sword and its defenses will be at your side. They are being held in a room that is hidden, but it wants you to find them.”

He listened to her instructions carefully, trying to set them in his mind. 

“When you are sent back, you won’t have much time. You must keep the sword close.” 

Brian nodded, and she began to get up. 

“Ariana wait—”

She looked back at him.

“Albus.”

Her eyes were understanding, and her smile turned weary. She looked to the horizon again, as if she was trying to recall the memory of him. 

“Albus has never truly forgiven himself for what happened all those years ago. Deep down, he blames himself for not being able to protect me.”

Brian closed his eyes. He knew the truth she spoke of. 

“Don’t let him carry the weight of me forever.” 

“I will try.” 

He got up from the stone they had been sitting on and prepared himself. 

“There’s one more thing,” she said. 

When he looked into her eyes they were playful again, almost like how he remembered. She reached out her hand. He understood instantly, and smiled too. 

He handed her the sword and he knelt in the grass. Gently, she tapped each of his shoulders with the blade. First the right, then the left. 

“You are ready.” 

Chapter Text

The wind picked up again as he ran, but no rain had yet fallen. The sword felt weightless at his side. He ran up the promontory, thinking he would run right off the cliffside, but as he came up to the cliff edge, the fog was peeled back, and the great stone bridge began to appear.

He took one step onto the bridge. Then another. It felt solid underneath him. He began to run again. As he ran across the bridge the fog rolled away, revealing the way forward, until suddenly, the great doors of the castle pushed through the fog. The massive towers and ramparts were exposed, and then the many lights of the windows. The sight took his breath away, and he hesitated before he reached the main doors. 

Should he knock?  

It seemed utterly ridiculous. Everything was ridiculous. The doors were clearly too enormous to move on his own. But as he came closer, he heard the loud creak of the hinges. The great doors were slowly swung open, and he was able to peer inside. There was no one in the stone hall beyond. He didn’t know if he should have expected anyone to be. 

Though the doors had opened for him, he still felt like he shouldn’t be there. Like he was trespassing. He kept the sword close to him, wrapping his fingers tightly around the hilt. He tried to build up courage in himself, as he had been told. He put his foot on the first step. 

Just as he made it up the first set of stairs, a large statue suddenly fell from the ceiling. Brian lept backwards to avoid its descent and yelled out. Rather than shattering on the ground, the statue landed perfectly on its knee. 

It was a soldier. A battle ax was ready at his side. Before Brian could investigate it, another jumped from the nearby wall. And then another. The sound of them hitting the floor reverberated off the walls. Soon there were ten of them, all kneeling on the floor in front of him. 

He realized they were waiting. 

“Secure the castle,” he commanded. 

He ran wildly down corridors, unsure where he was going. The castle was as massive inside as it looked. He wasn’t sure he could locate the front door again if he needed to. How could he find a room that was hidden? He turned down another hallway. Then he noticed all the paintings on the walls. They were watching him. He remembered the paintings in the Dumbledore mansion. The paintings that were alive. He looked anxiously at a nearby tableau of sixteenth century astronomers. They were just as shocked and mute as he was. Then, one of them bowed to him. The others soon followed suit. 

“Where are they?” 

They all pointed left. 

He began running again, looking occasionally at the walls around him. All of the paintings were aware of him, and kept on pointing him in the right direction. He turned down another hall, and emerged in the largest room he had ever seen. When he looked up, he yelled out. 

He was in the interior of a great tower, which was crisscrossed by staircases ascending higher than he could see. 

They were moving. 

“Bloody hell.”

He took one cautious step forward, holding the sword aloft. Suddenly, the nearest staircase shifted towards him. The staircase on the next level swiftly followed. It wasn’t long before all of the staircases were moving in unison, creating a single path upwards. 

“Right.” 

As he ran up the first staircase he yelled, “Thank you!”

To whom, he didn’t quite know. 

***

Mordred had obtained all the information he was going to get from Miles. Everyone was reduced to watching him senselessly torture the undersecretary. Even the other Snakes were wondering what was next. They did not have a plan beyond this moment. But they knew they wouldn’t leave until Mordred had what he wanted, or Miles was dead.  

Albus looked wearily towards Gellert again. He had been watching the scene unfold stoically, unmoved. Albus tried to get his attention, but if Gellert noticed him he was ignoring it. He looked around, there was a slight chance he and Isobel could grab someone’s wand, but then it would still be fifteen against two. Perhaps if he could create a great enough diversion, bring down the ceiling perhaps, they might have a chance. Though the likelihood of them getting out with Spavin and Miles alive was slim. And yet, he wasn’t ready to watch him die slowly and painfully. 

He elbowed Isobel next to him. 

“Listen,” he whispered. He nodded to a nearby wizard, who he recognized from the grotto. 

“I think I can get that wizard’s wand from him if I move quickly. Do you think you can get Ravenna’s?”

“Yes,” she whispered back. “But what then? We can’t fight them all.”

“I’m working on it.” 

The wizard looked cocky, and had long since lost interest in what was going on. Albus knew it would be easy to overpower him if he went right for the wand with one hand, and his face with the other. 

“Once you get your wand, create the biggest, loudest spell you know,” he whispered to her, “we need to get the Minister of Magic and Kay in the confusion.” 

“Got it,” she whispered.

“On my mark.”

But as he waited for the opportunity to present itself, he noticed Gellert was watching him again. The look in his eye was one of suspicion. He was about to come towards them, when the doors of the Room of Requirement were blasted open. 

Everyone turned quickly toward the doorway, but all they saw was smoke billowing into the room. Mordred ceased his torture of Miles and spun around angrily. No one should have known where to find them. They waited for the smoke to clear. Slowly a figure appeared out of the darkness. There was a long, glowing object in his hands. 

And then Albus saw the dark curls of his hair. 

“Brian—no!”

He ran up, but Gellert stopped Albus before he could reach him, and held him fast.

“Get out!” 

“It’s the muggle!” Ravenna yelled. 

Everyone else had looked on in confusion, as Brian hesitantly stepped into the room. His body was trembling. In his hands was a sword. It seemed to be giving off its own light. 

Though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, Miles was able to glimpse Brian from the floor. His eyes grew wide, and his body stirred. 

“It’s real.” 

No one seemed to hear what he had said, and he was ignored. Mordred had recollected himself enough to be angry again. His patience had run out. 

“Enough of this.” 

The spell leapt from his wand, and Albus screamed. But before it could reach its target, it made contact with the sword Brian was carrying. A bright white light exploded outwards and filled the room. They heard thunder in their ears. 

The sword had stopped the spell. 

They all stared, astonished, as they watched Mordred’s curse colliding with the sword in Brian’s hands. And then the spell was propelled back to its origin, and Mordred had to throw up his wand to protect himself. It wasn’t enough to repel it. He was thrown backward into the wall. They heard a loud crack when he hit it. The force had been so great that it crunched the stone. A spider’s web of cracks appeared on the wall as he fell to the ground with a thud. 

Brian was breathing so fast, he thought he might pass out. Everyone looked back to him in shock, unsure what would happen next. Brian made a visible attempt to calm himself, and breathed deeply through his nostrils. He grasped the sword in two hands with the blade pointing upwards, and brought it down in front of him. 

“No!” Viserius yelled. 

They all jumped forward. Five spells were launched at Brian at once. He held the sword aloft and closed his eyes, hoping his luck would hold. All five of the spells ricocheted away from him. A few hit the ceiling, and stones immediately started falling onto them. Several spells hit the large bookcases, which started to tumble into each other. Everyone started running. 

Noxius thought he had things figured out, and leapt at Brian, his hand reaching for the blade. Once he grabbed hold of it, he screamed immediately, and tumbled backwards. His hand was blistering red. 

Albus’s mind was in turmoil. Nothing made sense. Gellert grasped it more quickly, and jumped into action. He pushed Albus away from him, and let out flames from his wand. They coalesced and built up into a tremendous fire. 

Flaming wings and arms appeared, and then a long twisted tail. A great roar was heard. Its cavernous jaws opened wide. It was a dragon. It reared up, and its head reached the ceiling. Everyone scrambled towards the safety of the walls. The dragon knew its target. It took in all of the surrounding air, built it up in its stomach, and let it out full blast at the muggle. Brian held out the sword, and the flames parted around him, pushing past him into the hallway beyond. For a moment, Albus couldn’t see Brian through the flames. 

The flames died down, and Brian was revealed to be unharmed. The sword in his hands was smoking. The dragon was displeased, and decided to use its full force against him. It reared up again, and then leapt at Brian, pushing them both out of the room and into the corridors. 

Before anyone could run after them, four massive statues entered the room, and started to attack those that remained. Albus recognized them. They were the statues of the knights that guarded the main entrance of the castle. One of them swiped Corvus off his feet with a pike. Another took out the wizard nearest to Albus with a mace. 

Albus wanted to run after Brian. The loud roars of the dragon in the distance suggested he was still locked in battle with the flaming beast. But the way forward was blocked by battling wizards, flames, and debris. 

“Albus!” Isobel yelled to him. 

In the mayhem, Isobel had started to initiate the plan. She already had Ravenna’s wand in her possession, and threw him the wand of another wizard nearby. 

“Time to move!” she yelled as he caught the wand. 

The train of his thoughts was slowly starting to catch up. He knew she was right. The Room of Requirement was falling apart. Bits of the roof were coming down from the ceiling, and fires were everywhere. Burning pages floated about, ripped from the many books they had collected over the year. Several of their captors were out cold, or were too shocked to do anything else but defend themselves. Albus couldn’t see Gellert or Mordred anywhere. 

Albus and Isobel ran through the flames towards Miles and Spavin. Viserius was there, and tried to stop them. Albus was quicker. 

“Expelliarmus!” 

Viserius flipped backward, hitting the table and chairs behind him. 

Spavin had somewhat understood that they were there to help him, and Miles had regained enough of his energy to move. 

“I need a wand,” he yelled to Isobel. 

“You’re in no state to fight,” she said, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Albus got the other arm and together they pulled him up. 

When they had Miles between them, Albus yelled towards Spavin. 

“Stay behind us!” 

The minister complied, and together they started to make their way towards the door. Two of the statues had been destroyed by that time. One continued to fight two other wizards. Another came running up to them. Rather than attack them, it blocked an incoming spell from Livia with its body. The statue shielded them, as they ran out of the room and into the corridors. 

***

The dragon was a considerable foe, born of Gellert’s resentment. It could not hit Brian directly, but was able to push him out into the halls. It collided with everything it could, letting fire leap from its jaws. Soon every surface was covered in flames. The heat was intense, and Brian had to move quickly lest he be burned. 

He clinged to the sword at his side. Though he still didn’t understand it, it was starting to become more familiar in his hands. Suddenly, the dragon appeared hurling towards him. They were pushed together down a set of stairs and then into the great tower at the end. 

It was the massive room Brian had run up before, with all of the moving staircases. Brian tumbled down the steps, the dragon just above his face. As they fell, the sword penetrated into the heart of the flames, and the dragon roared. Its body flipped over the bannister, and dropped onto the staircase on the next level. The force of the dragon’s fall was enough to shatter the stone, and the entire staircase began to fall on the one below. 

Soon, the whole tower was a cascade of raining flame and stone. 

***

They were running as fast as they could, but Miles was very weak. Albus looked back to make sure Minister Spavin was keeping up. He was practically clinging to Albus for dear life. 

“We need to find Brian and get to the Great Hall,” Albus yelled to Isobel. 

The dragon had left a large wake. Several hallways were aflame. The most direct way back to the Great Hall was an inferno, and completely impassible. 

“There’s another way,” Albus yelled, “past the Astronomy Tower.” 

They moved quickly down another corridor. Just as they made another right turn, they found their way blocked. 

Mordred was there. His face was bleeding, and he was angry. 

“The road ends here,” he said. 

Albus turned to Isobel. 

“Go back down to the kitchens. You can get out that way!” 

“Albus no—” Isobel countered.

“Go!” he commanded, “I can hold him off.” 

Spavin took Albus’s place at Miles’s side, and together they started running back the way they had come. 

Albus turned to face Mordred. 

“What a future you could have had,” Mordred said. 

“If it involved becoming you, I think I’ll pass.” 

Their wands leapt up, and their spells met, but Albus’s was stronger. He felt his strength coming back to him. Brian was somewhere in the castle. In danger. He had to get to him. 

Mordred broke the connection first. He realized Albus was not afraid of him. He looked to the walls, and started throwing the paintings off of them towards Albus. He deflected them easily. Mordred chose fire next, and flames were thrown out towards Albus. Before they could reach him, Albus filled the corridor with wind, sending the gust back in Mordred’s direction. The flames reverted, and Mordred needed to drop to the ground to avoid being burned alive. 

Albus knocked the wand out of his hand before Mordred could get back up. He looked up at Albus, his anger now replaced by fear. 

“It’s over, Mordred.” 

He wasn’t ready to accept it. His face warped into a bitter grimace as he looked up at Albus. He reminded Albus of a child, despairing over a lost game. 

And then Albus felt a great force on him, and he was thrown down the hallway. The wand was knocked from his hand. He looked up to see that Gellert had entered the corridor. 

“Well done, Grindelwald,” Mordred said, getting to his feet. 

Gellert ignored him, and pressed forward steadily towards Albus with his wand raised. Albus could see his eyes were red. He looked more hurt and confused than Albus had ever seen him.

“Did you always know?” Gellert asked, his voice breaking. 

“No,” Albus responded.

Gellert was fighting back tears. He didn’t know the way forward from here. 

“Kill him,” Mordred commanded. 

Gellert’s body was shaking slightly. His knuckles were white on his wand. He held it pointed at Albus on the floor. Albus looked back at him, without fear. 

“Do it, Grindelwald,” Mordred yelled again. 

Gellert began to walk closer. And then a great flash of white appeared in front of Albus. Gellert and Mordred were thrown back. When he looked up, Albus saw Brain standing above him. He held firmly to the sword. Its shine had grown more intense. Brian’s face was determined. 

“I think it's time for you to leave,” he told them. 

Gellert’s wand was up again, but Brian was prepared this time. He raised up his sword, and swung it downward fast. The corridor was suddenly engulfed in flames. Mordred and Gellert had to move quickly to escape their grasp. 

Albus had retrieved his wand again, and ran after Brian as he pushed forward. As Brian descended upon them, fear got the better of Mordred. He turned and ran down the leftmost passage, Brian following close behind. 

Albus hesitated. He wanted to run after Brian. But Gellert was left alone, battling the flames. He was losing.

“Aguamenti!” Albus commanded. 

A great gush of water poured from his wand and doused the flames. It swirled around Gellert and then fell harmlessly onto the stone floor. The corridor was filled with steam. Gellert looked back at Albus and their eyes locked for a long moment. Albus couldn’t decipher the feelings he found there. 

Before Albus could say anything, Gellert turned and ran in the direction Mordred and Brian had gone. Albus quickly followed. 

The door to the Astronomy Tower had been bashed in, and when Albus got there he could see flashes of light around the curve of the walls. A spiral stone staircase led to the top of the tower, and while he could not see their fight, he could hear Brian and Mordred up overhead. In the light on the walls, he could see Gellert’s shadow running above him. 

When he got to the top of the tower, it was in complete disarray. Books, left by the last Astronomy class, had burst open, and papers rained down to the floor. Albus glimpsed Gellert through the showering papers. 

“Stupify!” 

But his spell hit the wall at the far end. Gellert was nowhere to be seen. 

The top of the Astronomy Tower was dominated by a massive brass globe that was so large it encompassed two levels. Albus could see Brian and Mordred fighting on the second level. Not seeing Gellert anywhere around him, he ran towards the stairs to the upper storey. 

Mordred was throwing every spell he knew at Brian, who was deflecting them easily. Brian had grown more sure since the Room of Requirement. He wasn’t shaking now. Finally Mordred’s spell ricocheted back towards him, and his wand was ripped from his hands. The force was enough that his wand snapped, and broke into pieces. Astonished, he tripped backwards, and fell to the floor. His face was wrought with horror. Brian came closer slowly, keeping the sword pointed at him. 

The Astronomy Tower had a great wide opening which let in the night sky, and a parapet outside which surrounded the tower. The night had become clear and bright. The moon shone directly into the tower. It had not rained. 

Albus reached them, and could see Mordred was quivering. Albus reached out slowly and grasped Brian’s wrist. Brian lowered the sword, and looked into Albus’s eyes. The adrenaline was starting to wane, and Brian looked like he wanted nothing more than to fall into Albus’s arms. When Mordred saw this, he was able to muster some of his former self. 

“You’re going to lose, Albus Dumbledore.” 

“Not before you,” Brian shot back.

“You’re the one that’s lost, Mordred,” Albus said. “Call off the rest of them.” 

They stared at each other, and Albus thought perhaps he had finally accepted it, but then Mordred leaned up and spat at their feet. 

And then, they heard the loud sound of air moving quickly behind them. They turned to see Gellert, on a broom, heading fast towards the opening of the tower. He looked at Albus and Brian with a mixture of hatred and anguish, and then leaned forward. 

Mordred seized his moment, jumped up, and ran at the broomstick. He was able to catch hold of the tail just as Gellert flew by. Together, they flew directly out of the Astronomy Tower, and into the open sky. 

The weight of them both caused the broom to tumble slightly. Mordred was hanging on with only one hand. 

“Grindelwald! Help me up!” he yelled above the wind. 

Gellert turned back, and looked at him. They stared at each other, comprehending. Mordred realized it too late. Gellert reached back and grasped Mordred’s hand that was clinging to the broom. He ripped it off the broomstick and let go. 

From the Astronomy Tower, Albus and Brian watched as Mordred fell. Before he reached midway down, Brian turned away, and put his head into Albus’s shoulder. Albus too had to avert his eyes. They didn’t see, but heard, as Mordred’s body hit the ground. 

Albus pulled Brian into his body and held him. He could feel him crying, the weight of everything suddenly compressing into him. The sword clattered to the floor. 

Albus looked up one last time to see Gellert, flying away across the lake in the moonlight, alone.

Chapter Text

Despite the storm clouds that had menaced the valley, it had not rained the entire night. The sun rose swiftly. The blue expanse of the sky was bright, and the deep waters of the lake reflected its glory. The castle stood proudly on the water’s shore. Though it had suffered damage, the castle felt stronger than it had the night before. 

Within minutes of the sun’s rising, all the aurors in Britain converged upon the castle. Every nook and cranny of Hogwarts was searched. Of the attackers, seven had died in the night, other than Mordred. The rest were quickly placed into custody. Lord Viserius had been found, sitting calmly in a chair in the Room of Requirement, waiting for them to take him. The other members of Dumbledore’s Army were promptly expelled under Headmaster Black’s orders, but were spared Azkaban. 

Only Gellert had escaped.  

As Lord Viserius was being taken away, he looked at Albus one last time. 

“I’ll give your regards to your father,” he said, as he walked past. 

Albus knew he would never see him again. Brian squeezed his hand, but Albus hadn’t minded Viserius. He was done thinking about his father. He appreciated Brian’s hand all the same. 

Brian hadn’t left Albus’s side for a single moment. He still held the sword at his side. Everyone watched him warily as they went about their business, and tended the wounded. Even the aurors were anxious around him.

“Please don’t leave me,” Brian whispered to him. 

“I won’t,” Albus said. 

When Isobel found them again in the Great Hall, she ran into Albus’s arms, almost knocking him over. There was a small gash on her forehead, but she was otherwise unharmed. 

“Thank goodness,” she said. “For a moment there I thought it was over for us.” 

“So did I,” Albus said. He gave a small laugh. It startled him. 

She turned to Brian. 

“Well you were quite a find, weren’t you?” 

Brian was visibly self-conscious, but smiled politely back at her.

“Glad I could help this time.” 

They found Miles being tended by the school nurse. The other Knights were around him, and Marie was holding his hand tightly. When Brian approached, they all bowed their heads. Miles smiled weakly, but said nothing and stared at Brian. Albus could feel him becoming more embarrassed. No one knew quite what to say. 

“Can I look at it?” Miles asked, finally. 

It looked like Brian had almost forgotten about the sword he was carrying. He held it out in both hands, letting Miles get a closer look at the blade. Everyone leaned in, including Albus and Isobel. Miles’s eyes glowed as he gazed at it. Albus hadn’t noticed the details of the hilt until then. A flowering tree of jewels and a red bird at the base. Albus realized it was a phoenix.

“I convinced myself I would never see it,” Miles said, “that the night would pass, and we would need to wait another generation. And yet here it is.” 

“Do you want to hold it?” Brian asked. 

Miles was shocked by the question. The others were as well. 

“No, no—It would burn me to touch it.” 

Brian thought about it for a brief moment, and then reached into his back pocket, taking out a cotton handkerchief. He wrapped it tightly around the hilt of the sword and presented it to Miles. 

“Here.” 

No one had thought of it before. It was like he had performed magic. 

Hesitantly, Miles reached out and took hold of the sword, taking care to only touch the handkerchief with his skin. 

“Careful, you're still weak,” Marie said. 

“I have enough strength for this.”

A bright smile appeared on his lips, and tears welled in his eyes. The sunlight, pouring in through the windows of the Great Hall, made the sword glint. While everyone admired the blade, Albus looked at Miles’s eyes. It was like he held the sun in his hands.

Miles looked back at Brian.

“Thank you.” 

“What was your plan?” Isobel asked. 

“To guard the secret, and to make sure the Snakes didn’t get to the sword before its true owner could,” Miles said, nodding at Brian. “But to be honest, we thought the night would pass without the sword presenting itself.” 

“It only reveals itself when it is needed,” Marie added, “The sword hasn’t been seen in many generations. Even some of us doubted its existence.” 

“I didn’t,” Miles said, though it seemed he had said it more to himself than anyone in particular. He turned to Brian again. 

“It’s yours now,” he told him, handing it back. 

“I don’t know what to do with it,” Brian said.

“You will,” Miles said confidently. 

The group was broken up by the arrival of Minister Spavin. He walked up to them surrounded by aurors. With adequate protection, the Minister of Magic had been restored to his usual confidence and warmth. He turned to Brian, giving a little fearful glance at the sword, and then placed an amicable hand on Brian’s shoulder. 

“No place in our world shall be denied you, muggle,” he said, “Thank you, for what you have done for us.” 

Brian had no idea what to say, but managed a slight nod. Spavin turned to Albus next.

“Albus Dumbledore, whenever you want a position in my administration, it is yours,” and then turning to Isobel, “You as well, Ms. Ross.” 

“Thank you, Minister,” Isobel said, suddenly flustered. 

Albus said nothing, but nodded politely. And with that, Spavin left them and walked back to the other Ministry officials. 

“Dumbledore,” Miles said. 

Albus turned to him. 

“My offer still stands as well.” 

Albus had to look at the floor. The memory of that day in Professor Dippet’s office was still fresh in his mind. It was an offer he didn’t feel he deserved. 

“Thank you, Undersecretary,” he said earnestly, grasping Miles’s hand in a firm shake. “But I still haven’t figured out my future.” 

Albus let his hand drop, and then looked back at Brian.

***

They stood at the railing of the Astronomy Tower, and marveled at the glimmer of the light on the lake. It was looking to be a beautiful summer day. Albus could feel the bruises of the night before, and there was still so much on his mind, but as he breathed in deeply, taking the crisp air into his lungs, the thoughts receded. The breeze was cool on his face, and he felt like he could float away at any moment. 

Brian was smiling softly next to him, admiring the view. He turned and looked at Albus. 

“What are you thinking of?” he asked him. 

Albus reached into his coat pocket. He felt the paper flower that lay there. The soft prick of the thorns. 

“Ariana.” 

Brian’s brow knit together, and he took a moment to think of what to say. He had told Albus what he had seen the night before. Albus had listened, but said nothing in return.

“Don’t carry her forever, Albus.” 

“I need to carry her for a little bit,” Albus said quietly, looking out to the water.

“Look at me,” Brian said, reaching out and pulling Albus’s face to his own. “She too lived.” 

There was a long silence, as Albus thought about what Brian said. Finally, he nodded. He knew there would be long nights of pain and grief ahead. He tried to accept what he could. He let go of the paper flower in his pocket, and brought his hands back to the railing. 

“Will you go after Aberforth?” Brian asked. 

“I won’t be able to stop Foggy from looking, but I think it’s best if I leave Aberforth alone for a little while.”

He pictured Aberforth off alone in the world somewhere. Trying to bear his grief.

“I’ll be there for him when he needs me again.” 

A songbird flew overhead. It descended down into the valley and headed out over the water. He thought of Gellert, flying away across the lake in the moonlight. He wondered if he would ever see him again. Something in his heart told him he would. 

From the tower they could see the small island on the lake. Its trees were swaying gently with the wind. It seemed such a peaceful place. Albus remembered all the hours he had spent in the tower alone while they had searched for the weapon. It was now leaning against the wall nearby. Albus looked over at it, and admired it again. It was all so funny, he thought. All the time they had wasted worrying over it. It seemed like the world had played a great joke on him, and he thought it was funny too. It felt good to be made fun of. 

And then, as he looked upon it, he started to feel something akin to what Miles must have felt in the Great Hall as he held it. Like something great was beginning. Something new. A strange feeling stirred in him as he gazed at the sword. It felt something like hope. 

“Hey,” Brian said. 

He reached out and brushed the hair from Albus’s brow. Brian never looked more beautiful than that day in the tower. He seemed unencumbered by anything. Alive. Albus noticed he had small scars on his lip and forehead. Parts of his shirt were scorched. But Brian was barely aware of it. He was cheerful again, like it was just another day in the garden. Albus knew the sword had changed him somehow. He could see it. He seemed stronger. More sure of himself. He smiled at Albus, and they enjoyed the silence together. 

Everything was so surreal. He couldn’t believe that Brian was there, with him, in Hogwarts. Despite everything that had happened the night before. And yet fear wasn’t far away, and floated back into his mind.

“I’m so scared I’m going to lose you.”

“Don’t,” Brian said.

Brian could see the fear clearly in Albus’s eyes. He had lost too many. Brian came close to him and wrapped his arms around him. He didn’t know what the future held either. 

“Let’s play a game.” 

Albus laughed at the suggestion, and Brian smiled. It felt good to laugh again. 

“I don’t think I got a good tour of the castle last night—too much running,” Brian said, whimsically.

“Do you want me to—” 

“No,” Brian said, holding his fingers to Albus’s lips. 

His voice dropped to a whisper. 

“Close your eyes.” 

Albus obeyed him. And when did, he felt Brian’s lips on his. He kissed him long and deeply. All his thoughts and fears drifted off with the wind. He knew they would return at some point, but for now they were weightless, and he let go of them. After he felt Brian’s lips pull away, he heard him whisper, 

“Now count to ten, and come find me.”

Albus laughed again. He heard Brian’s footsteps slowly walking away from him, and then the echo as he descended the tower steps. 

He began to count. 

The end