INNOCENT

YEARS BEFORE ANYTHING TO DO WITH VOLDEMORT, HARRY POTTER, HERMIONE, RON, OR ANY OF THOSE GUYS YOU ARE ALL FAMILIAR WITH. RIGHT AFTER ALBUS' SISTER DIED.

I guess you really did it this time

Left yourself in your warpath

Lost your balance on a tightrope

Lost your mind trying to get it back

"You're not a terrible person," Minerva protested, her hand on Albus' arm. He turned toward her.

"You can't say that, Minerva. I killed my own sister! My disabled sister, no less. I'm a monster and you know it." Albus turned away. He couldn't believe himself.

Coward, he berated himself, sinner. Monster. Narcissist.

"We don't know that, Albus. It could have been anybody!" Minerva cried. She couldn't bear seeing him like this; Albus was practically suicidal. "And you didn't mean to. It was an accident."

Albus whirled around. "No, Minerva, I was trying. I was trying to hurt someone. Trying to kill someone. Maybe not my sister, but still. Either way, I'm still in the wrong. I'm still a horrible person."

"Albus—"

"Leave me alone, Minerva!"

The girl frowned and walked away slowly, hurt.

Wasn't it easier in your lunch bag days?

Always a bigger bed to crawl into

Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything

And everybody believed in you

Minerva turned back and saw Albus sitting on the armchair, using his wand to trace patterns in the air with light. She pressed her lips together. She couldn't understand, Albus was a beautiful person. He was true, and he was pure, and he was clever.

At least, he used to be.

Despite what she said, Minerva thought that Albus was probably right. He might have killed his sister. He had made a mistake, but she didn't understand why he wouldn't forgive himself, because no one would ever know for sure who had killed Arianna.

Oh, Albus, she thought. Whatever went wrong?

Minerva could remember the day, years ago, when they had been sorted, both into Gryffindor.

It had been rainy that September night, and cold. Minerva had been relieved to be ushered inside the Great Hall by one of the staff members, the name she could not recall. Albus had stood in front of her, gaping in awe at the room. "I've heard things," he whispered. "But I never thought—this is amazing!"

Minerva nodded. Her parents and older sister had always gone on and on about the great rooms and chambers of Hogwarts School. "It's beautiful. What house do you want? I'm hoping for Ravenclaw, like my older sister."

"Gryffindor," Albus had whispered absent-mindedly, his wispy auburn hair falling in his intense blue eyes. "All the greats come from Gryffindor."

Minerva smiled at the memory. She had admired Albus then, she admired him now. He was clever, wise, mature, and, at times, hilariously witty. And no matter how many times he accidentally possibly killed someone, Minerva had a feeling that she'd never stop admiring him, because his good qualities outweighed the bad.

It's all right, just wait and see your

String of lights is still bright to me, oh

Who you are is not who you've been

You're still an innocent

But Albus would always think of himself as guilty, Minerva knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't change his mind about this, he was too stubborn, especially about his personal opinions.

It's okay, life is a tough crowd

So much older but still growing up now

Who you are is not what you did

You're still an innocent

Minerva turned back against her better judgment. "Albus, look. If you're so convinced you're going to hell, make up for it. Do whatever you can to stop people from dying. It's the best you can do really." Minerva sat on the arm of the chair Albus was sitting in.

He turned around. "I don't know, Minerva. What if I screw up again? I mean—"

Minerva interrupted him. "You cannot change the past, Albus. You can only improve the future."

Albus shook his head. "I can't do it. I need some time. Because, she was my sister. I thought, before, I would be glad to get rid of that burden, but..." Tears formed in his eyes. "I miss her so much," Albus said, his voice catching.

"I know, Albus. I know." Minerva rested her hand on his shoulder and stared into the fire. "Goodnight, Albus," she finally said, standing and walking up the stair case.

"Goodnight, Minerva."

Did some things you can't speak of

But at night you live it all again

You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now

If only you had seen what you know now then

Wasn't it easier in your firefly catching days?

When everything out of reach someone bigger brought down to you

Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything

And everybody believed in you?

Albus rolled around in his bed, seeing memories he didn't want to see. Flashes of light, sparks of shooting pain, reflexes, the yelling of curses and cusses and spells and protective spells, the cold of the day, the fear of his little sister, upset, trying to stop it all by standing in the middle of it...

At some point, the memory became a dream and the dream became a nightmare. Faces changed and warped like wax, everything was too bright, to shiny and new. There were things terrifying beyond belief coming out of his friend and brother's wands, not to mention his.

Albus shot up in bed and stared to where his wand lay beside him. An idea occurred to him. He got slowly out of bed and walked towards the fireplace at the far end of the room, where a fire still crackled merrily. Albus took his wand and lit the very tip of it. He remembered the day he had bought this wand, years ago. Before he had even met Minerva. He swallowed, but then pushed sentiment to the back of his mind. He would have Olivander make him a new wand.

Albus watched as the fire burned down the wood of the wand, revealing the magically protected core. Albus took a deep breath as the last of the wand crumbled into ash.

There, he thought. Put the past behind you...

Time turns flames to embers

You'll have new Septembers

Every one of us has messed up too

Lives change like the weather

I hope you'll remember

Today is never too late to

Be brand new...

It was in that moment, staring into the kindling fire, that Albus finally allowed himself to cry.

He remembered Minerva's words to him earlier and tried to believe that maybe some day all this hurt would go away.

Who you are is not what you did, you're still an innocent.