I am merely playing with J.K Rowling character, this actually is the english and re-written version of my french OS "Frêle Petite Fleur", but as I no longer am satisfied with the way I wrote it, I decided to re-write it in english. However, I'm aware that I may have made mistakes and that my writing style may be awkward, I accept, both negative and positive, and would like criticism so that I could improve the way I write, don't be afraid to point out my mistakes, I'm not a native english speaker and I size every opportunity to improve my english!
I reply to every review I might receive ;)
Ariana Dumbledore
1885 – 1899
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also
Such was the inscription carved into the white marble, as white as the first snow. There was also a flower, a small and frail flower, that will soon wither as the bitter winter cold was setting in.
The same regret, always that same regret that has been gnawing at him for years now. Was there a single day during which he did not think of it? Questions, millions of them, questions that will probably remain unanswered, he was not sure he wanted to hear these answers, either, he would hate them, oh yes, he was sure of this. Albus Dumbledore seldom allowed himself to wallow in self-pity, however, that night was one of these rare moments ; he was standing before his deceased sister's burial, the sister he has never been able to protect, perhaps the most shameful secret of the greatest wizard of the century.
He had been arrogant, more arrogant than anyone have ever known; arrogance led to carelessness, and carelessness had led him to loss.
Yes, Albus Dumbledore was ashamed, ashamed of what he did not do for the only sister Life ever cared to give him. He should have changed all this, "I should have changed all this", he often repeats that to himself, this futile and wretched mantra. The terrible burden of his responsibility has been weighting on his aged shoulders, and so it will be as long as he would live; and he was standing before the constant reminder of that particular fact, the white marble tomb, the very same place where his own brother did not hesitate to show him his thoughts about what happened to his sister; where his own brother, out of sheer grief, punched him in front of their darling sister's coffin.
The very same tomb Albus visited every year, at the same time. And every time, it was the same regret, the same guilt, the same grief, the same wound that will never quite heal through time.
Snow was now covering Godric Hollow's, and white tiny flakes were drifting in the air, carried by the cold breeze. Winter was now approaching, long past were the times of the first snows and Christmas would soon be celebrated. Soon, sparkling lights will illuminate the little village; "She liked Christmas", Albus remembered. It was a long, long time ago, in another lifetime, or so it seemed to him : her brothers would be home for Christmas holidays and her eyes would be sparkling with innocent joy, something he only very rarely saw and something he had never been able to fully appreciate, to cherish as it should have been cherished. No, he never did, in his foolish self delusion, he had never appreciated it for what it was, or if he did, it was too late.
The same memories, tender and naïve, they always brought a infinitely sad smile upon his face. His eyes were dull that night, devoid of their usual twinkle, while he was reflecting on the most enormous mistake he has ever made. There stood his deepest regret, the wasted life of his darling sister, of Ariana Dumbledore, who never lived to see his brother weeping over his tragic mistake, weeping over a time-worn white marble tomb.
The aged wizard then took his wand out of the robe he wore that night, he whispered a spell that sounded almost like a song, softly and tenderly delivered to whatever goodness was left in the graveyard he found himself in. A wreath of roses blossomed out of nowhere and he set it gently down near his little sister's final home. Flakes of snow slowly descended from the dull gray sky, sparkling like tiny diamonds on the delicate petals.
Albus put his want back into the pocket of his fanciful wizard robes and stared long at the golden letters carved into the marble. At last, he back tracked and left the graveyard and disappeared into the night in a thud.
No one ever saw the tears cascading from his bright blue eyes.
Thanks for reading! :)