Of Life, Death, and Pure Blood

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this (except Gregory, he is all mine!). They are J.K.'s toys, I just borrow them.

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"NO! Help me! Please! Someone save my baby! Please! Save him!!"

It's always the same words, every night. The same time, the same place, the same dream. He could set his watch by it, it was so routine. Always back to the same worst memory.

August 25, 1945

She ran through the house, clutching her baby to her chest, listening as the rasping breaths followed her slowly, the creatures cloaks never touching the ground. She screamed as she ran, though she knew no one could hear her.

"Someone help me! Please! Someone save my baby!"

The Dementors showed no mercy. They followed behind her, through the halls and up the stairs, until she locked herself in the cold, dirty attic. She was cornered, and she knew it. This was the end. Or so she thought.

She saw the lights go out, and heard the door creak slowly open. As they glided into the room, they would have been almost graceful, had it not have been for the smell of rotting flesh, the ragged robes, and decomposing, skeletal hands.

It drew back its hood as she pushed the baby out of sight. But the Dementors don't see. They sense your presence, and no amount of hiding can stop them.

She threw herself in front of them, hoping to prevent them from going and farther, but they simply pushed her aside, their touch rendering her immobile from the cold and hatred they felt.

One of them reached into the draw, its rattled breathing waking the baby from whatever trance it had been in. He began to cry, not knowing what was going on, or where his mother was.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The strong voice came from the doorway, and a magnificent phoenix came swooping through the room, driving down the Dementors. They dropped the baby, but she caught it before it could hit the ground.

The Dementors screeched a terrible, unearthly sound, and swooped through the open door, and out of the house.

"Oh, God, Albus. Oh, God." She sobbed hysterically clutching the mans robes. "You saved him, you saved me. Oh, God."

"Don't fret, my dear, and don't cry. We are fine now, as is he." He replied soothingly, rubbing her back.

"And, and - " she stopped short of finishing, though she didn't need to anyway.

"Gone." He answered. "Gone forever."

She sobbed harder than ever at these last words, a mix of sad and happy tears.

"My own cousin, Albus. My own cousin. I didn't expect that of him, none of us did." She continued sobbing, hugging her husband.

"No-one knew that Grindleward would turn out like that. No-one could have known. Don't blame yourself, my darling, it wasn't your fault."

"But it was, Albus, don't you see? I could have stopped him, I could have begged pleaded, he always listened to me. I could have - "

"Done no more than you did. You saved his child, and made him your own. There is no greater act of love or kindness than risking your life to save another's."

Somehow, this time, Albus' words calmed her a little, and allowed her to see for herself the wonder that she had done for this child. Their child, now, as he liked to think of him. That wonderful little boy, who's life had been endangered more times than anyone could deem possible for a 2 year old. Once was bad enough, but 3 times was awful.

Many times Albus had thought of this, and every time, he could only come to one conclusion: why would Grindleward have turned to the Dark Arts? Was it a source of comfort? Albus didn't think so. Minerva had told him many times of her cousins youth, of how he was often ignored, and seemed to find great happiness in having even the smallest amount of power. Power. That was what Albus thought had driven him there, to evil.

"But why, Albus?" Minerva said, snapping him out of his reverie, "Why did he want to kill him? What was wrong with him?"

Albus sighed, rubbing at his temples, trying to decide whether he should let her know this. "I know you know, Albus, don't try and keep it from me a moment longer. I may be upset, but I am not unable to perform a hex." Albus chuckled slightly, despite himself, and then closed his eyes, deep in thought.

"You know how the McGonagalls, bar you, are obsessive over purity of blood?" she nodded her head in agreement. "Do you know what they do to children who do not have entirely pure blood? They 'purify' them. They torture them. They make them bleed to try and remove the impurities from their blood, or else believe them unworthy of a place in the family, and torture them until they break."

"But, how – why?"

"Do not ask me how, for I do not know, but why? It is a matter of pride, and nothing more. To feed the ego of the family, to keep them as the best in the eyes of a huge portion of the wizarding world." Albus went on solemnly. "Grindleward tried to kill his son, not to destroy impurities from his family, but to save him from having to go through the torture. I think it took everything in him that was still human to do it. But then, my dear sweet Minnie, you saved his son, you saved him and raised him as your own, away from the prejudices of your family."

Tears rolled down Minerva's cheeks as Albus rubbed her back soothingly. When he continued to speak, it was not, however, words of comfort.

"I think that this killed him. The fact that his son could still be found by his parents, by your parents, and could still be destroyed. It hurt him more than words could say."

"But, Gregory's blood, it's pure. His wife was a - "

"A muggle-born. Not a pure-blood, as he had said for his family to accept her. He loved her so much, he made her deny her blood, go against what she believed. But she had no choice."

"Albus, what are you saying?" The tears were no longer running down her cheeks, but her voice was shaking with emotion.

"Alana was already pregnant before they married. She had no choice. Leave him, and raise her child without a father, without money, and without a home? Stay with him, but reveal that she was muggle-born, and be killed along with her child, or deny her blood, protect her child, and live?"

"But, she disappeared, right after the baby was born. Why did she leave? Where did she go?"

"Both questions I cannot answer. Not tonight, anyway."

"But, Alb- " He cut her off.

"Go to sleep, my dear Minerva, and we shall speak no more of this. We can do no good, speaking of the evil from the past."

Minerva laid her head down on her pillow, albeit reluctantly, and slowly drifted into a calm, peaceful sleep, with her husband beside her and her son sleeping peacefully in his cradle. Albus, however, lay awake, his head swimming with unanswered questions.