Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and slash or other people.

Warning: This collection may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. It contains few to no plot spoilers for the Harry Potter series, excepting those that have already been declared in public forums. This story contains the death of major characters.

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The Trial of Albus Dumbledore

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Chapter One: A Train to Nowhere

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"Severus…"

Blue eyes watched the form of the potion-maker. For the first time, Albus was struck by the fact that this man was the reason that that so many first years had to go to Madam Pomfrey for Calming Draughts after a class with him. Albus no longer saw the scrawny eleven-years-old that sat sorrowfully on the stool to be sorted, but the formidable master of the dungeons. For a moment, Albus worried that Severus would not grant him his last request.

"Severus…please…"

Finally, the hand holding the wand rose. The words were spoken-Albus hoped that he was the only one who heard the regret in them. It would have been a shame for all his plotting to come to naught over the tone that Severus had used while killing him. He felt what little strength he had left abandon him. There was the strangest sense of weightlessness before the world faded to black.

There was also the odd tickling feeling that Albus had learned to associate with the feeling that he was forgetting something, though what he could hardly guess.

He did, however, wish he had had time for one last lemon drop.

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It was white. That was the first thing about the afterlife that Albus noticed. It was a blinding white that would have made Poppy Pomfrey proud. After his eyes adjusted to the single color, he noted that he was not in front of some pearly gates like the Muggles all said was the entry to Heaven nor was he immersed in white flames.

It was a train station-King's Cross, if he wasn't mistaken. The only major difference was its vast emptiness. The King's Cross that he was familiar with was never empty. There was always someone about their business, no matter how late the hour. Now there was not even a custodian pushing a broom, just row after unending row of benches.

"HELLO!" he bellowed, hoping for an answer, but not really expecting one.

"Hello, Albus. It's been a long time."

Albus stiffened at the voice behind him. There was no need to turn around to know who was speaking. That voice could only ever belong to one person and for all his talk of heading fearlessly into death, at this moment, he was terrified of turning around and facing her. Yet at the same time that was the only thing he wanted to do. Her name rose to his lips like a desperate prayer, but he could not bring himself to utter it. He didn't deserve to speak it. He didn't deserve to see her again either. Yet he found himself turning to look at her.

Merlin, she still looked like she did that day. Wild blond curls danced around her pixie face. Blue eyes still twinkled with the true merriment of childhood. Rose red lips pouted in mock petulance. She even wore the same purple sundress that she had been wearing that fateful day. Albus felt his heart clench in his chest.

"Well, aren't you going to say hello, Albus?"

"Ariana."

The name escaped him with the softness of a sigh. That was the name of his greatest tragedy, his greatest failure. The owner of that name was now standing in front of him, a gentle smile on her lips, whole in death as she had not been in life. She let loose a giggle, perhaps at the look on his face.

"Who else would I be, you silly goose? Now, are you ready? The train is waiting."

"What train—" A loud whistle interrupted him. He turned to see a bright red engine on the track with only two passenger cars attached. "How…?"

Ariana's only reply was another giggle. She sprinted pass him and ran into the train. She turned back at the stairs. Her hand raised and waved at him. Then she disappeared into the train.

His heart clenched. She was gone, gone again after so short a visit. As if to confirm his thought that he was losing Ariana all over again, the train whistle blew again. Steam poured out from the stack of the engine. Slowly, the train began to inch forward, then jump. Before he could stop to think, his feet were speeding toward the train.

He had to stretch to reach the handle as the train picked up speed. His fingertips brushed the smooth bar. He stumbled slightly due to his running and a brush was all he caught. Determined, he tried for just a little more speed. He reached again. The jerk almost pulled his arm out of socket, but he held on and managed to swing himself into the stairwell of the train.

He rested on the steps, panting for breath. As his breathing slowed it occurred to him that maybe he wasn't dead. After all, he had felt pain-physical pain-and he certainly seemed to be breathing, though it was labored at the moment. He could feel his heart pounding his chest. His right hand was still a black withered thing. Isn't death supposed to free a soul from such torments?

"You're wondering if you are really dead," whispered a quiet voice above him. The way she stated it, there was no question, just a simple statement of fact. He looked at her towering above him on the top step. Her clothing was little more than rags. Her black hair hung lankly against the sides of her face. One look into her dark eyes and Albus knew who this strange waif was.

"Merope?"

"You are, you know," she went on without answering. "Death doesn't release us. It doesn't! I thought death stop the pain of losing Tom. I did. But it never ends. Do you hear me?" Her eyes went wild. For the first time her voice raised above the hushed whisper. It was a frantic roar when next she spoke. "WE ARE NEVER FREE! NEVER!" She burst out in tears. "We don't deserve to be, do we?"

She turned on her heel and sprinted down the train. By the time Albus had ascended the few steps to the top, she was nowhere to be seen. Albus began to walk in the direction she had disappeared in, thinking that maybe he'd be able to comfort her or inquire after Ariana. Silence lingered, with only the slight shushing sound of the train as it rushed down the track heading toward an unknown destination.

Albus wandered the length of the train. He checked all the compartments he came across, but so far all of them had been empty. There was no sign of Merope or Ariana. In fact, there was no sign that there was anyone at all on the train.

Dejected, he settled into the last compartment in the caboose to watch the white landscape go by and wait. What he was waiting for, he had no idea. Maybe it was time to just accept the adventure.

Although, he would like to have some lemon drops.

Maybe just a few?

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He jerked himself awake. Albus wouldn't have thought that he would have been capable of sleeping, but apparently, death was too exhausting not to require a rest. Especially after hours of watching the same bland landscape roll by outside his window. The fall of the land was similar to the path that the Hogwarts Express took from King's Cross to Hogsmeade every year except for one key difference: the colors.

Where the 'real' scenery was full of color—reds and oranges in the fall; greens and bright rainbows in the spring—this was more like the winter scenery without the excuse of snow. Pure white teamed up with inky black to form the tapestry outside his window. It was like a picture drawn with charcoal on pristine parchment. In all other ways, he might as well be outside Hogsmeade Station.

"Albus?" A male voice called from the distance. His body jerked towards the door. He didn't realize he had risen until his back popped several times. "Albus, where are you?" The voice sounded farther away. He yanked the door open. He rushed down the train as fast as his old body could take him. When he arrived at the place where he had gotten onto the train, Albus spotted him.

It was as if time had not reached him. His gold hair still fell in that roguish fashion that he had worn when Albus and he had first met. Those blue eyes still danced as if he was cooking up a plot. When he spotted Albus, he let out a belly laugh and beckoned. He also began to back into the dark shadows of the station. His scarlet robes were so bright against the white and black background. It drew Albus off the train.

The closer he got to Gellert, the younger he felt. A spring came back to his step. It didn't seem to matter that fifty-two years had passed since Albus had seen him last. It didn't matter that they had fought, that Gellert had spat in his face and vowed to hate Albus for the rest of his days. He was eighteen again and in love. The pain from his arm faded away. Happiness swelled in his chest until he thought he would explode from the pressure. Just a few more feet and they would be reunited again, two against the world. This really must be Heaven.

"Albus?"

Her voice sounded confused, lost. It was so much like it was during the fight that his heart froze. Albus' blue eyes met Gellert's in desperation. The blond man beckoned again, this time with impatience. He was almost completely swallowed by the inky shadows of station. The red robes seemed to glow like an ember. Gellert smiled and Albus recognized it as the one that he used just for him. Albus took another step towards his lover.

"Albus?" Her voice choked, as if on blood. Albus went rigid. A part of him railed against the unfairness of it all. Two steps and he would be within arm reach of all he ever wanted. But she was behind him, hurt. Albus knew it just as he knew the twelve uses for dragon's blood. So recently he had found her again. He was so close to the answers he had once desired just as much as Gellert's love. His eyes drifted close. The urge to scream welled up inside him.

He was wrong. This wasn't Heaven. It was Hell.

"Albus," Ariana whispered in her sweet, child-like voice, "don't leave me." He opened his eyes and looked at her. She had tears running down her face. Her small hands were clasped tightly together in front of her heart. The white light of this place danced off her blond curls. Her purple sundress flapped in a nonexistent breeze. Even though she should have been in a shadow, there was only light around her. She reached a hand out towards him. Her eyes pleaded with him. "Please?"

He was caught there, half in the shadows that held Gellert and half in the light. The conflicting desires tore at him, ripping out pieces of his soul. He heard Gellert laugh again as Ariana choked back a sob. He brought a hand up with the intent of scrubbing his face with it. It froze in front of his face. Instead of his hand being whole and unblemished like it felt, it was shriveled, blackened, and skeletal, far worse than it had been at the end of his life. He lifted his other hand. It was wrinkled and pale. There were a few liver spots and one jagged cut that he had gotten last week when he had dropped a glass and had tried picking up the pieces himself. It was so small that he hadn't bothered Poppy with it.

"Albus," a voice hissed. He looked at Gellert in his ruddy robes, tucked back into the shadows. Was his smile just a little too predatorily? Something was different about him. As Albus watched, Gellert's pupils contacted into narrow vertical slits. "Come on, Albus," he urged, just a hint of command in his tone. "Come on, love." He reached out for Albus.

Albus scrambled backwards into the light. Gellert hissed. His face twisted into the expression that haunted Albus' dreams, full of anger and hate. This wasn't the man that Albus loved. This was the monster that killed and enslaved to get his way. This was Grindelwald.

Albus fell to his knees in the full sun, all strength gone. He watched as Grindelwald paced the shadows edge, all the while, snarling at Albus. Tears leaked down Albus' face. After a while, he felt Ariana's hand press against his cheek. He raised his eyes to hers.

"Come on, let's get going. We still have a ways to go."

She took his hand as she led the way out of Hogsmeade Station. Just before they left the platform, he looked back one last time. Gellert's blue eyes were filled with tears as he watched him leave. Somehow Albus forced his feet to keep moving, but he couldn't drag his eyes away.

A pair of dark eyes watched as well. Her small hands tore at her lifeless hair as rage reached a boiling point in her little body. The train whistle covered her scream of outrage. As the train began to move, so did she. Maybe this time she would find Tom.