Caged
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The glow in her blue eyes was endearing. She walked carefully out of the house beside me, joy rippling tangibly from her. I could hear the goats bleating hungrily from their paddock. As we stepped into the sunlight, I felt Ariana stiffen. I gently touched her head and told her in a firm, quiet voice, "No one is going to hurt you, Ara." She looked straight ahead for a moment, considering my words and then followed along trustingly.
I held out a bag of feed to her, although I knew I had to go first. I suppose hope springs eternal. I reached into the bag and pulled out a handful and she copied. We had shared this chore before when she had been good, but she needed an example to mimic. I let a goat lick it from my outstretched palm. She did the same and giggled softly as the thick, pink tongue tickled her hand.
"Abe?" she said quietly, in the voice that would speak only to me.
"Yes?"
She reached for more feed on her own and asked, "Why am I here?"
"I don't know the meaning of existence, Ara. Ask Gellert and Al if you're seeking that brand of wisdom--"
She made a face, "I don't like Gellert. He's bad."
I cocked my head. My sister was both blessed and cursed with the workings of a child's mind. And children have the strongest instincts and intuition of anyone. She frowned and repeated, "Why am I here?" she pointed at the house.
"This is your home, Ariana."
She shook her head, but did not reply. Al would murder me if he knew she was out here with me, but she's been so well-behaved that I chose to reward her. Honestly, it's my choice. If she gets any better or any worse it will be thanks to me, since I'm the only person she'll stand, besides Al, Bathilda and Gellert. But she doesn't really like them much. She needed a treat. She likes the goats, same as I do. Al never did. He never had time for goats, especially since Gellert came along. At least that way he can't catch us. He's busy at Bathilda's with his precious foreign friend.
"Why don't I have a wand?" She whispered, so quietly that I thought initially that she was addressing the goat.
"Only boys get wands." I recited the lie that mum taught Al and I so long ago.
"Bathilda has one. Mum had one."
"Mum's used to be Dad's. She inherited it when he took ill." I loathed lying to her trusting face, "And Bathilda uses her brother's." Lies, lies, lies.
Ariana very gently scratched the goat's left ear. She then sat down cross-legged and began arranging twigs and pebbles into patterns in front of her. She plucked some blades of grass and worked them into her casual creation. She looked up at me, blue eyes wide and sweet, but wary as ever, "Can I borrow your wand, Abe?"
I was taken aback. Not only was Ariana exceptionally talkative today, but uncharacteristically confident. "No, you can't."
She pouted, "Why not?"
"Al said."
She rolled her eyes, "As if he'd ever be around to notice..." but she knew that her battle was lost and that I stood victorious. She got to her feet again and went back to our goat-feeding. I didn't see, but the goat must have bit her, greedy for more. She shrieked and there was a blinding flash of light. She stumbled back a few feet and fell, curling up into a ball, trembling and whimpering. Nursing her wounded hand. I knew from the thump of something on hay that she had killed the goat.
"Ariana...Ariana!--it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay." I hugged her into my lap and tried to soothe her, "Hussshhh...it's alright, Ara, it's alright..."
"Aberforth! What the bloody hell are you doing!? I saw from halfway from Bathild--" Al's eyes fell upon the pair of us, as he ran into the yard already scolding me. His voice dropped to a whisper; curious, angry, suspicious, nervous, "Why is she out here?"
I looked at Al over Ariana's violently-shaking shoulder, "Al--"
"Aberforth, are you mad?" his low voice was threatening, "After all we've done--our parents did-- to keep her, I swear by Merlin's beard we will lose her due to your thoughtlessness and idiocy!"
"I'm not an idiot." I said calmly.
"Well, you do a bloody good impression of one!" he snapped, "Get her inside!"
By the time we reached the kitchen, Ariana's tears were dry, stale and stiff on her cheeks and Al's initial rage had cooled. He asked her gently, "Are you alright, Ara?"
She nodded once, but her fingers squeezed my arm still tighter in a vice-like grip. I looked at her, frightened as a kicked pup and felt sympathy and affection surge through me in crashing waves. My need to nurture and protect her was far more intense than her hold on my arm, "Ara," I said, "Al and I need to talk for a moment alone. If you go to your room, I promise I'll give you a treat." she deliberated momentarily and then left, not keen to let my arm go.
Al's eyes met mine and he crossed his arms, looking both intimidating and pompous at once, "What the hell possessed you, Aberforth, to take our sister outside?"
Somehow his eyes always made me tell the truth, "She's been so good lately. Quiet, gentle. She's been talking and she's been laughing..." I picked up on the twinge of a smile as his stern expression softened before he forced it back, "She hasn't done any magic since she set those curtains of fire--"
"That was a month ago!" He cried out.
"I know! Isn't it wonderful!" I replied, "An entire month!"
"Don't you get it, Aberforth? Never take her outside, least of all when she hasn't done any magic in a month!" I raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, "She has magic and she has to release it. She can't just pull it in and absorb it. The longer she holds it in, the more dangerous and unpredictable she will be! When Mum died, Ariana hadn't done magic in two months, remember? She can't help it, I know that. But we can. We-- you-- can be more careful!"
"She's been asking about wands and Hogwarts again, Al..." I said quietly.
He waved it off with an impassive hand gesture, "You know what to tell her." he turned to go up the stairs, "Now, I'm going to fetch the book I came here for and then I'm going back to--"
"She doesn't like Gellert."
He shrugged but had no retort and went up the stairs.
I made my way to Ariana's room and found her sitting in the center of the floor blankly. I sat beside her and extracted a hankercheif from my pocket. I pointed my wand at it and it became a chubby, brown puppy. She simpered and picked it up, cooing and caressing its soft fur. The smile that traced her lips made my heart throb with the knowledge that as I smiled back I was turning the key and locking her cage.
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Fin