The Other Dark Lord
[Fear Factor Competition, Week One: Character - Albus Dumbledore]
Late at night, when the portraits lining his office walls were snoring and Fawkes had his head tucked under his wing, he liked to pull out the Penseive.
He never leaned far enough forward to actually fall in, but he watched from above with a wistful smile on his face. If anyone had been looking in, they might've assumed he was reading an amusing letter, or maybe a humor piece in the Daily Prophet. Nobody would have guessed that he was in pain - an old pain, true, but still a potent one. He kept it hidden in his eyes, because what good did it do anyone to dwell on the past?
(And yet here he was, reliving it night after night, tearing open the wounds in his heart just as they began to heal.)
He prodded the Pensieve gently with his wand until a memory took focus. His smile broadened infinitesimally (and inside he was burning) as he recognized the day he received his Hogwarts letter.
"Look, Aberforth!" the eleven-year-old Albus cried, waving the parchment above his head. "I get to go learn magic!"
"Good for you, Al," the younger boy said sincerely. "Will you teach me some things when you come home? Maybe a few spells?"
"Now, now, Ab, you know you can't use magic outside school. You'll just have to catch up to me when you get your letter. But don't worry," he added as he saw Aberforth's face fall. "I'll let you hold my wand. And when I'm the greatest wizard of all time, I'll let you come destroy villains with me!"
Little Ariana (adult Dumbledore choked) hobbled out into the foyer. "You get to go to Hogwarts?" she asked in her high-pitched voice. "I want to go to Hogwarts!"
"You will," Albus promised her. "Someday."
Ariana grinned. "Where's Daddy?"
Albus and Aberforth exchanged a glance. "Daddy went away for awhile," Albus said. "You remember? He went on a trip after your accident."
"When's he coming back?"
"Not for a little while." Aberforth patted her on the head, and she flinched violently. "Sorry!" he added. "I'm sorry."
Ariana's lip quivered. "Please don't touch me," she said in a monotone, as if she'd said the same four words a hundred times before.
"Ari, I didn't mean to."
Albus scowled at his brother. "Don't touch her," he said. Ariana turned and hobbled back to her room. "You know it upsets her."
"I only forgot - "
"I don't know how anyone could forget. I know I never will."
Dumbledore removed his half-moon glasses and let out a deep sigh. He prodded the Penseive again, and the mist within swallowed up the old memory and revealed a new one.
"Albus, just come home."
Albus - still young, but no longer a child - scowled at his brother's face in the fireplace. "I've got a life outside you, you know," he snapped at his brother. "I'm trying to do something great. Doge and I - "
"I don't care what you and Elphias Doge are trying to do. Albus, Ariana is getting worse. She asks for you every day. She still asks for Dad every day. And now that Mum's gone, there's no one to take care of her."
"Why can't you do it?"
"I'm at Hogwarts! I had to get special permission to stay with her just for this week."
Albus sighed. "Doge won't be happy if I just abandon him in the middle of our Grand Tour."
Aberforth gave him a hard look. "Who's more important, Albus," he said. "Your friend? Or your sister?" And then he pulled back, and there was nothing left in the fireplace but flame.
Dumbledore knew which memory was coming next. He knew it would be wiser to put the Pensieve away - knew he'd break down if he watched the next scene - but just like every other night, he took a deep breath and watched anyway.
(Because the only thing separating him from Voldemort was his ability to feel remorse, and if he ever forgave himself for the next memory, he'd be no better than the Dark Lord himself.)
"You never listen to her!" Aberforth shouted. "You're too busy up here, in your room, with your boyfriend - "
"What are you implying, Ab?" Albus said in a low voice, but there were sparks in his eyes.
"You know exactly what I'm implying."
"I'd walk away and close the door if I were you," Gellert Grindelwald said lightly, twirling his wand between his fingers. "We've important business to attend to."
"What business? The Deathly Hallows? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they don't exist. You won't find them, because they aren't real. Meanwhile, Al, your little sister is being neglected by the only family she has left, and - "
"What about you," Albus said stonily. "You're her family, too."
"I'm at Hogwarts!" he bellowed. "I'm trying my best, Albus, but I can't be her father if I'm also a student. And even if I could, she prefers you, anyway. She's always preferred you. Everyone's always preferred you! You're the infinitely more admired Dumbledore. Oh, Albus, he's so wise, and ambitious, and great! But they don't realize that you've abandoned your family just because you're ashamed that you're related to a Squib."
"She's not a Squib," Albus said. Gellert suddenly looked extremely interested. "She can still do magic."
"But she won't use it. She's afraid of it. She knows it's because of her magic that those boys hurt her. She's not stupid, Albus. Why do you think she wouldn't go to Hogwarts? Why do you think I haven't brought her there to stay with me until I'm finished with my education?"
"Listen," Gellert drawled. "This is all very touching, but I really think it's time for you to get your slimy face out of this room."
"Don't you dare tell me what to do, Grindelwald, not in my own home."
Gellert brought his wand down hard. "Expelliarmus," he cried, but Aberforth managed to hold onto his wand.
"Stupefy," he shot back, but Gellert blocked it with a flick of the wrist. Albus grabbed his own wand of the desk and began shouting spells at his brother.
None of them saw the door across the hall open.
None of them saw the tiny, nightgown-clad child (even at fourteen, even halfway to adulthood, she was still no more than a child) toddle over, her hands clamped down over her ears, tears streaming from her eyes.
None of them heard her shouting at them to, "Stop! Please! I don't like it! Make it go away!"
And then Aberforth dodged the curse that flew from Albus' wand.
"No," Dumbledore whispered, lunging forward to pull Ariana out of the way, but it was too late (one hundred years too late), she'd already fallen, she was already gone.
He didn't watch the rest of the memory. He already knew it by heart, anyway: Gellert would leave, Aberforth would cry, and he, Albus, would stand over his sister's body in horror and blame everyone but himself.
"Are you all right, Dumbledore?" asked a gravelly voice from the darkness of his office.
Dumbledore looked up. "I'm fine," he said, replacing his spectacles on the end of his nose. "Go back to sleep, Armando."
"I heard you say something."
"Just a bit of indigestion, I'm afraid. It plagues me from time to time, especially after I've sampled Hagrid's rock cakes." He sighed. "Alas, why does human nature tempt us to torture ourselves with the things we know are bad for us?"
"Mmhm." The portrait didn't sound convinced. "I'm worried about you, Dumbledore. You haven't been sleeping."
Dumbledore tapped his Pensieve and watched the light within it fade down to nothing. "I have a lot on my mind these days."
"Because of the Dark Lord?"
He stood to replace the Pensieve on the shelf with the rest of his silver instruments. "Because of the Dark Lord," he repeated quietly, gazing down at his reflection at the bottom of the Penseive. "Yes."