Old Friends
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Being very, very intelligent might create some problems and it has done for Dumbledore, because his wisdom has isolated him… where is his equal, where is his confidant, where is his partner?
JKR in an interview
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Author's Note:
This my imaginings of a universe where Albus Dumbledore never bonded - in any sort of sense - with Gellert Grindelwald. Instead, his best friend was a similarly intelligent boy named John Abrams. This is their story.
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1 September 1891
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A whistle blew. "All aboard!" called the conductor. "All aboard the Hogwarts Express!"
Already in my compartment, I rolled my eyes and looked back to Macbeth. The noise of a half dozen or so latecomers pulling themselves onto the train roared, coughed and sputtered – no, that's just the great engine. I had forgotten how noisy trains were – or are.
Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble…
Some might think it's weird for someone as young as an eleven year old to like reading, and especially reading Shakespeare, but I like it. The teasing my peers give me isn't so bad, anyway.
The train jolted out of King's Cross Station. Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga…
The compartment door creaked open. Slightly annoyed – I had just gotten into Macbeth, after all – I glanced up to see who was there.
"Sorry, sorry… I – I didn't realize this compartment was taken –"
The speaker was a boy, about my own age. He was taller than I by a few inches, though, and where my hair was brown, his was a beautiful reddish auburn. Sunlight glinted on bronze-rimmed half-moon glasses, and he wore Muggle clothing.
Odd. I thought most people would be wearing Wizard robes.
The boy's bright blue eyes met my steely grey. He looked as if he fully expected me to tell him to go away.
I smiled at him. "It's all right. Come in."
His face shifted from worried to relieved in about half a second. He shoved his trunk into the rack and sat down opposite me.
I held out a hand. "I'm John Abrams."
He looked uncomfortable again. "Albus Dumbledore." He flushed and turned his head away from me.
I was confused.
Did I do something wrong?
"I'm sorry. Did I say something?"
This startled Albus into a laugh. "No, no. I just thought…" He mumbled something.
"Pardon?"
Albus took a deep breath. "I just thought that you might not want to be seen around me."
I'm still confused.
"Why wouldn't I want to be seen around you?" I gave a rather drawn grin. "You seem nice enough."
He smiled wanly. "You're Muggle-born?"
"Yes." I warily nodded. "What has that got to do with anything?"
My family is my family, whether or not I like them, or they like me.
"My family's been in the papers a lot lately. They're accusing my father of Muggle-baiting."
"I take it that's a bad thing?"
"It is, yes. The Dumbledores are sort of… infamous."
"And I care why, exactly?"
Albus raised his eyebrows. "Most people care about what their peers think of them."
"I'm not most people."
We sat in contented silence then. I had read into Act II of Macbeth and Albus had tied and untied a bit of string many times over when the compartment door opened again.
A little old lady pushed a trolley full of candy. "Anything off the trolley, dear?" she asked, beaming sweetly at me. I pulled out a few silver Sickles – the only Wizarding money I had – and bought some Licorice Wands and Ice Mice.
Chewing happily on the anise-flavored stick, I watched as Albus stood and asked for a couple Pepper Imps. The old lady looked searchingly at Albus' face for a moment, and then her face warped from kindness into hatred. "I'll not sell to the child of Muggle-haters." She slammed the compartment door behind her, and left.
Albus collapsed on the soft bench. I swallowed hard.
So this is the magical world. They profess to be better than Muggles, but I've yet to see it.
"Albus?"
He refused to look at me.
He's probably crying.
"A-Are you going to leave me too? Dawson, Clement, Eugene, Leonard… They all called me names and left me alone – hic! – alone! They said they hated me! We left Mould-on-the-Wold, but it was no better in Godric's Hollow…"
Oh dear. What on earth do I do for – or to – a severely unhappy person? I'm no good with my own emotions, much less so with others'.
He rambled on, seemingly oblivious to my presence, for a good ten minutes. Finally – after a glance at my pocket watch – I clapped my hands in front of his face. Startled, Albus stopped muttering – even if his eyes were suspiciously watery.
"Albus! Stop caterwauling!" I gave him my best glare.
He gave a feeble chuckle. "Wh- what, in Merlin's name, does caterwauling mean?"
"It means 'to make a loud howling noise,' which is what you're doing. Now, apart from what you told me earlier, I've got no clue as to why – as you say – everyone hates you."
Albus' eyes drooped. "Fine. I'll tell you."
I sat back in my seat and steepled my fingers together.
Albus began to tell his story. He told of his siblings, outgoing but dim Aberforth and sweet and naïve Ariana. He told of the boys who had hurt her, hurt her in body and in mind. He told of his father's horrible revenge – and of the Aurors who arrested him, dragging Percival Dumbledore from the scene screaming.
He wove a tale of love and pain, and destruction unleashed; love for and of his sister – pain that the boys had caused her, pain that his father had, in turn, caused them, pain that society had handed the family…
"You see, they do hate me!"
I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. "No, they hate your family, and you only by association."
"There's a difference?" Albus looked almost hopeful.
Yes. If they hated you, they'd never give you a chance to redeem yourself. As it is, you'll work harder, but you can still be considered Great someday.
"Of course."
He chuckled. "As if that's reassuring."
"Albus, some people are always going to dislike you. If you try to be friends with everybody, you'll end up friends with nobody."
Albus looked scandalized. "What can I do, if not try to be friends with everybody?"
"'This above all: to thine own self be true /And it must follow, as the night the day /Thou canst not then be false to any man.' It's from Shakespeare's Hamlet."
"What?"
"If you try to be someone that isn't yourself, all you will do is hurt others and yourself. If you are yourself – for yourself – then you can't treat anyone falsely – you've already showed them who you are."
"So… you're saying to just not care about what people think?"
"Yes, that's right."
Albus wrung his hands for a bit, first this way, and then that way. Then, a spark of life returned to his eyes. "How'd you get so wise?"
"What?" My eyes widened in shock, expecting a teasing remark – but finding only admiration. I suppressed a groan. "I'm not wise."
"Really? You just told me what I needed to hear. I've been feeling awful for the last month and a half – ever since Father was imprisoned in Azkaban – and you've got me out of my rut." He took a deep shuddering breath. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I answered automatically.
Later…
We were led to the great Gates of Hogwarts by a stunningly thin and grouchy old wizard. In the Entrance Hall, we – the first years – were handed over to a tall, red-haired professor.
"The first years, Professor Weasley," the old man sneered.
The professor bowed, and a broad smile unfolded on his face, seemingly undaunted by the other man's nasty demeanor. "Thank you, Mr. McIntyre."
McIntyre sneered again, and strode out of the hall, and into a side door.
Weasley turned to face the first years. "Welcome, welcome!" His navy blue hat nearly fell off his head. "Now, some of you may know all about the Houses, but others may not."
Glad to know that I fall under the 'others.' I suppose because I was born a Muggle – I very much doubt that those with Wizarding parents would have any trouble with this.
"Nearly nine centuries ago, the four greatest witches and wizards of Britain came together. They are the Founders of Hogwarts – wise old Rowena Ravenclaw, who valued quick thinking and wisdom above all else; just and loyal Helga Hufflepuff, who was sweet and kind, and treated all students fairly; bold and brave Godric Gryffindor, who gave honor and courage the highest merit; and, last but not least, Salazar Slytherin, a man of great ambition and cunning, who loved those who were determined enough to see through any goal."
He waved us forward. "It's time! Come on now, we're ready for you!"
We filed into the Great Hall. Looking around, my eyes caught on the floating candles.
It must be wonderful, to have all these abilities, and then to never realize that most people wouldn't even dream of floating candles.
I glanced upward by happenstance, and my eyes were glued to the ceiling for a moment or two. I could see every star.
I don't think I've ever really seen the stars before – not that I've really tried.
Albus elbowed me firmly, bringing me back to this planet I like to call Earth.
Upon a stool in front of the Head Table, there was a hat – looks like it was made out of dishrags. Suddenly, a rip opened near the hat's brim, and it began to sing.
Dear God. A singing hat!
"O many years have come and gone;
"It's been too long since the great dawn
"Since the great Founders Four stood here,
"When Hogwarts did come to appear.
"But then the Founders Four became
"The Loyal Three; for to their shame
"Ambition proved too easily
"Corrupted into tyranny.
"Gryffindors are brave at heart,
"Ravenclaws make learning an art,
"Hufflepuffs are loyal and fair,
"And Slytherins have a wily flair.
"So you see, dear lads and lasses,
"No one House is for the masses.
"Each has merit, each has weakness;
"But as each of you comes to guess
"Wherein you might come to be placed,
"Fear not, for not all is a waste!
"You'll go where friends you just might make,
"And where your talents will awake.
"Don't be afraid of this old hat,
"Though I am the old Sorting Hat
"And shows you where and when to go,
"You are to be the one aglow!"
The audience – older students, I assume – clapped politely.
How odd. The Sorting Hat sang, and in verse; I wonder if the verses mean anything?
My thoughts were distracted when Professor Weasley took out a stool and a roll of parchment. He called out to the first years, "When I call, your name, come up to the front to be Sorted! First up, John Abrams!"
I pulled myself, with some trepidation, up the great steps. I sat on the little stool, and Weasley dropped the Hat on my head.
Oh-ho, now, what have we here? A Muggle-born – good, that means you'll be free of the prejudices of Wizardkind…
I remembered the trolley-lady on the train, refusing to sell to a little boy just because his father was – supposedly – a Muggle-hater.
No joke.
I see you also have a sense of humor – but you do so love to learn and read…
At least if your friends are books they won't betray you.
Perhaps, perhaps… But you love fiercely and well, what- or who-ever you love.
Pardon?
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Oh.
I stood up, walked off, and nearly tripped on the steps, but I managed to get to the Gryffindor House table before my clumsiness killed me – all to the wonderful applause of the Gryffindors.
I was too dazed to pay much attention to anything other than my growling stomach, but when Weasley announced, "Dumbledore, Albus!" I looked up.
Whispers broke out in the Great Hall. Things such as "Blood-traitor," and "Muggle-hater," dripped venomously from the mouths of those around me.
I frowned.
So much for having people love Albus for himself.
Oh well. I can be his friend.
Thoughts of days spent in happiness, and someone to share them with, flittered through my mind.
I hope. It would be nice – books are good, but someone to talk to is sometimes better.
I saw the Hat take moment after moment with Albus. At least twice it opened its mouth to say something, and closed it again. Finally, I noticed Albus relax a little in his seat, and the Hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Gryffindor cheered halfheartedly for its newest member, but I moved over to make room for Albus on the bench.
He kept me company on the train. Most people would have teased me during all that time, trying to hurt me in some way. Albus didn't; he deserves any friendship I can offer him.
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14 December 1895
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"John? John, wake up!"
Still mostly asleep, I felt someone shake me. "Huh?" I sat up, rubbed at my eyes with one hand, and fumbled for my glasses with the other. Shoving them onto my face, the excited form of Albus Dumbledore swam into focus.
"Albus, what on earth are you wearing?"
Wow. Those robes are really quite beautiful. He must have gone to a lot of work to find them – or even more to make them himself.
His robes were a shade of dark purple, and were embroidered with millions of tiny stars. Over his robes he wore a long black cloak, fastened at the neck, and a long, silvery wool scarf.
He assumed a pouting look. "What, you don't like it?"
I shook my head, stifling a yawn with one hand. "No, no, I like it. Did you make the robes yourself?"
"Yes, I did. I found an embroidering charm in the school library – and it's a good thing I did, too. All this needlework would have taken a very, very long time to finish."
"You can say that again." I yawned again. "Why, exactly, did you wake me up?"
"Oh, right." Albus looked a little abashed. "It's a Hogsmeade weekend, remember? We need to get our Christmas shopping done."
I pulled myself from my wonderfully warm flannel bedding with a rueful expression.
"Oh, come now, John. Let's get a move on."
You get a move on. I want to crawl back under my quilt and sleep until noon. I might love the cold and snow, but not when I'm in my nightclothes.
Albus must have recognized that I was feeling sluggish, because the next thing I knew he was digging through my trunk for some day robes for me. "Thanks, Albus." I ran a hand through my hair. "What would I do without you?"
"A lot more work," he replied easily. "Ah, here we are!"
A bundle of clothes flew my way. I caught them – just barely – by sheer instinct. I shook them out, revealing –
"Albus, did you make these for me?"
The robes looked similar to the handmade ones Albus was wearing, but instead of being colored a deep shade of purple, they were a beautiful burgundy, and instead of being embroidered with silver stars, light danced on bronze figures of runes.
He grinned. "Again, yes, I did. I thought you would like them."
"Like is too plebian a word," I breathed, watching, in fascination, the numerous ways the light caught on the robe's stitching.
Elphias and the other boys in our dorm wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like this.
I like it, though, and Albus made it for me. Why would I not wear it? I'll look odd – but I'm odd anyway. What do I care?
Albus chuckled. "Are you going to watch the way they seem to change in the light all day, or are you going to put them on?"
I pulled on the robes without another thought.
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15 March 1896
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The Great Hall was loud and crowded during Sunday luncheon.
The house-elves have outdone themselves, as always.
I sat next to Albus, chewing contemplatively on a bite of roast beef. All around me, people were eating and talking, sharing a joke with their friends, or even just groaning about homework they had left to the last minute.
Or, as my dorm mates were, talking about the various women they were attracted to.
"I like the looks of Gladys Macpherson, myself," said Henry Raterman, through a bite of toad-in-the-hole.
"Macpherson?" Edward Smith chortled. "She's not got much in the brains department."
"I know – that's why I said she was pretty." Henry poked his fork at Edward. "Notice that I didn't say she was smart."
The male end of the Gryffindor table burst into laughter. I noticed that Albus wasn't laughing, which reassured me somewhat.
I don't see what's funny. It seems pretty mean to me – not to mention rude.
"You're awfully quiet today, John," Albus elbowed me gently. "Got something on your mind?"
I swallowed. "Not really. I've just got nothing to say." I moved on to the carrots.
Mmm. Delicious.
"That can't be!" Elphias Doge said. "You've got to have your eye on someone, John."
"Why is it any business of yours?"
Edward made a face. "Half the girls here have crushes on you, and the other half on Albus. It's making it quite hard to get – and keep – a date to Hogsmeade."
"What!" Albus and I exclaimed as one.
"Tell me you're kidding." I glared at Edward.
He grinned, and shook his head obstinately. "I'm not. They think you two are far nicer than any of us ordinary blokes."
"The fact that you two top pretty much every class is just another point to you," Henry said.
"All right, that I can't argue with," Albus said, "but why would they think we're any nicer than any of you?"
"Maybe because you don't look at them as if you're trying to find out what's under their robes," Edward said, "and you will go out of your way to help anyone, if they need it. They know that."
At our disbelieving looks, Henry added, "Remember when Victoria Moody needed help with her Runes assignment, a couple weeks ago?"
I nodded, remembering the homely girl.
She isn't all that good with mathematics, but better than she thinks she is. She just needed a bit of a confidence boost.
Henry continued. "She'd already come to Edward and I for help, and we said we were busy."
"Which we were," Edward put in, "but we were, perhaps, a little rude about telling her to leave us alone."
"But she came to you, and even though you were both occupied with your Charms essays, you helped her. In thirty minutes you had assisted her with her homework, and showed her how to do it the next time."
"I just treated her as I would have liked to be treated," I protested. "It wasn't any special kindness on my part."
"It was to her," Elphias said. "Not very many people are nice to her, you know. The fact that you two were kind to her, of all people, gave her a tremendous boost in self-worth."
We stared at Elphias as if he had grown a second head.
Where on earth did that come from? I'm used to thinking of Elphias as slightly stupid – which, to be fair, he is – but he just showed a remarkable level of wisdom.
"The point is," Henry said, "that if I hear another girl comment on how good she thinks either of you would look in a towel, I think I shall be sick."
Albus and I both blushed – just as surely as if it had been choreographed – to thunderous guffaws.
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4 September 1896
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I walked among the heather on the eastern side of Hogwarts Castle, near the lake. The invigorating nature of the quiet helped me to stay calm as I thought.
For I, who loved the stillness of the wild places, had come to this path for a reason.
Who I am should not have anything to do with what others say I am – and yet, if I am right about one aspect of my personality, I could be in major trouble with the Magical and Muggle worlds.
I thought back to the conversation which had started this chain of thought.
If conversation is a proper term for it at all. Barely restrained riot might be more appropriate…
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Flashback
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I sat on a bench at the park, reading Homer's Iliad.
A group of boys – a few years older than I, but not yet men – approached on the path.
"Good one, Danny!"
"Yeah, good one, Danny! How much money did you get off him?"
"Squealed like a stuck piglet, 'e did…"
"Per'aps, per'aps, me friends… Aye, tha's the ticket! Off the pub we go – first round's on me!"
"Hooray!"
I saw them come, but did not move. They aren't going to bother me, I thought, they've no reason to.
I had forgotten, apparently, that bullies need no incentive to bully.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the lead boy said. He was unkempt and dirty, but what sent a chill down my spine was the malevolent grin on his unshaven face.
This isn't going to end well.
"One little boy, out here, all alone." He turned to his comrades. "What say you, boys, shall we have some fun?"
"Why not, Danny?"
"I'd put a thirst for ale in me."
"Ach, the tavern can wait."
"Good to hear," Danny turned back to me. He laughed mercilessly, and reached for me. When his hand grabbed my arm, in order to pull me from the bench, however…
Shock-fear-anger-pain-dishonor-heat-fire-shock-fear-anger-pain…
Pain!
"Yeow!" Danny abruptly let go, and leapt backward, nearly bowling over one of his fellows.
"What's wrong, boss?"
"Yeah – this dog didn' even touch you."
"No," he panted, his blood-crazed brown eyes boring into my grey. "No, he didn't touch me." He looked me up and down, with the air of someone looking over a slab of meat.
A chill encased my heart.
Sweet bloody Merlin on a polka-dotted magic carpet – he can't be thinking what I think he's thinking of…
His gaze took in my royal purple shirt and shoulder length hair, and the beginnings of a beard on my face. His eyes flicked over my silver-rimmed glasses, and the golden amulet I'd made with Albus' help swinging on a chain around my neck.
"You don't seem quite the sort to dress up for the ladies," Danny said. His voice was so smooth, it was almost oily. "And there's no point in dressing up for your books." He pointed at my copy of the Iliad, which still lay still on the bench beside me. "Care for a drink with me?"
Something in his eyes told me that what he wanted was much more than just my company in the tavern.
I'm not even willing to give him that. Only Albus can ask for my company, and expect me to come with him…
My mind seemed to want to explore that further – but I quashed it like an unwanted bug.
Bad, bad John. Think of what Albus would say.
I tried to keep my voice nonchalant as I stood. "It seems that you would like more than just my company, dear man."
Danny leered at me. "What of my companions, then? Do any of them strike your fancy?"
Two of the boys looked revolted, and glared halfheartedly at Danny's back.
Good. I don't like you either.
The third, however, was even dirtier than Danny, and was missing two of his front teeth – and he had an expression on his face that unsettled me.
Is he… No, he can't be…
"I am unsure of what you mean."
Or, rather, desperately hoping I'm wrong.
"I mean," Danny stepped forward so that his nose was about an inch from mine, "that you don't seem the type of fellow to enjoy the company of a girl."
I tried to grin, I really did. It ended up more looking that I had to visit the loo. "Right, right."
His breath was foul – and his body odor was even worse. "Come with us. You'll find what a real man is like."
Anger clouded my mind. "If I wanted a real man," I spat, "I'm certain I could find one."
Rage danced, barely restrained, in Danny's eyes. "You would refuse us?"
"Hell yes," I growled. "Get away from me."
Danny backed up, but laughed mirthlessly. "It's four on one, little man," he hissed. "How would you get away, if we wanted to have you?"
Anger-rage-fire-smoke-screams-fury-flames-inferno-destruction-anger…
Rage!
I could feel my wand, hidden in a wrist holster in my sleeve.
Are you a wizard or not? Albus' voice asked me in my mind. Will you defend yourself and your honor?
I stood erect. "If you want me," I ground out from between clenched teeth, "Come and claim me, bastards!"
Danny took that as an invitation to attack. The first punch he threw missed. The second hit a glowing, icy-blue shield – a shield that I hadn't needed my wand to cast.
"What the –"
"Bloody –"
"Demon!"
Well, he's close. No cigar for him, though.
Danny seemed to have frozen. I let the wandless shield dissipate, and I turned a steely gaze into his fearful brown eyes.
"Shoo!"
They ran, tripping over themselves in their haste.
I sat back on the bench, nearly squashing Homer's Iliad.
And now I've got a lot to think about.
He was right about a few things – I'm not the sort to dress up in order to impress the ladies.
For Albus, on the other hand…
I made sure that train of thought didn't leave the station.
Elphias and most of his friends wouldn't be caught dead in some of the things Albus and I wear on a regular basis. I thought it was just because I was odd, but…
Maybe…
Maybe I'm just not attracted to girls.
That was a very scary thought.
Wizards don't seem to treat those they view as different very well. Look at poor Edmund Fenwick – got bit by a werewolf and was expelled from Hogwarts.
I shuddered at the thought.
The magical world is everything to me. Dear old Father condemned magic all his life, whether he was in the pulpit or not. It's a good thing the pox got him before I got my Hogwarts letter. Mother – she's a prim and proper housewife, and I doubt her son turning up with his – male – fiancé would enthrall her.
If I wasn't allowed to be at Hogwarts…
I'd never see Albus again.
That thought disturbed me more than I would ever care to admit.
He's my brother, I told my irrepressible side. He's the sibling I never had – the one I will turn to when I need comfort, when I just want to talk, and when I need help up after I've fallen.
My irrepressible side wasn't sure what to make of it.
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End Flashback
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I still don't know what to make of it.
I sighed and kicked at a rock.
Albus would know what to do. Albus almost always knows what to do. But I don't know that I have the courage to tell him about this part of me.
Nonsense, said a part of me that sounded suspiciously like Albus. He's your friend, your confidant, your partner. If you can't tell him about this, who can you tell? Mother?
I snorted aloud, startling a bird into flight.
Mother is a coward who can't think for herself. She might be my mother, but I've gotten more mothering from Albus than from her – and that's a rather pathetic thought. Not that I dislike Albus' affections, but a mother is supposed to express her love for her child. My mother is incapable of even giving me a hug.
Albus, for all his insecurities and faults, is the greatest person I know. If he cannot accept me, who can?
"Mrrow?"
I looked down to see an orange tabby cat at my feet. "Elaine, what are you doing out here?" I scolded her.
"Mrrow?" My cat rubbed herself imploringly up against my robes.
I sighed. "Oh, all right." I picked her up. "Let's get back to the castle, silly kitty, before McIntyre catches us."
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6 September 1896
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I hummed to myself as I unpacked all of my books from my trunk into a bookcase I'd persuaded the house-elves to install back in third year.
When you have as many books as I do, you have to have a place to keep them – that's my logic, anyway…
Albus always says that, left to my own devices, I'd read through the whole library of Alexandria, and then complain of missing the adventure when it was all said and done. I must say, he's probably right.
"Knut for your thoughts?"
I turned slightly. Albus stood behind me, smiling oddly.
Albus doesn't smirk like that… something's up.
I brushed off my thoughts. "Library of Alexandria," I said shortly.
"Ah," Albus chuckled, and then lost the peculiar grin. He glanced at the pile of my books that still needed shelving. "Want some help?"
"Why not?"
He picked up a few volumes and placed them lovingly on the shelves.
He treats my books better than I do, most of the time. I might love my books, but the daily wear and tear of life with me is a bit much for some books.
I shelve my copy of Virgil's Aeneid, its cover having been bound so many times in Spellotape that I can't read the titles anymore.
Point in question.
Lifting my copy of Macbeth, I remember a time so long ago when all was simple – stay out of people's way, don't make the teachers too mad or too happy, and that sort of thing. A relic of an earlier time. Merlin, I can hardly remember first year – but I can remember my first ride on the Hogwarts Express.
The sound of two hands clapping together startled me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped back into focus, and they glared at the wide grin of Albus Dumbledore. "Going to shelve that book anytime soon?"
I looked down to see that, indeed, Macbeth was still the only book I'm holding. "Point," I ceded to Albus, as I put Macbeth on the shelf beside me.
He laughed. "I always have a point."
"Yes, but they're not always good ones. Remember when we got the house-elves to give us Firewhiskey last year?"
Albus groaned. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
It was my turn to grin. "No. You sing pretty well when you're drunk, old friend. I can't say the same for your verse, however." I laughed. "Ten blue bowtruckles on the banisters, and then one tried to dance…"
He shoved my shoulder playfully. "I was drunk! I must have been hallucinating."
"I drank just as much as you, if you remember – and I didn't start singing about blue bowtruckles."
"No, you just giggled at the slightest thing. It got pretty annoying after a while."
"I could say the same for your drunken poetry!"
Elphias "Dogbreath" Doge walked in, carrying a bundle of what looked like his laundry. He looked between us, "Am I interrupting something, John – Albus?"
"No, no, Elphias. I'm just trying to get these," I gestured to my pile of books, "shelved before the first day of classes."
The short, squat boy laughed. "You and your books, John. If it weren't for Albus, you'd probably spend all your time holed up in the library – like the Ravenclaws." He made a face. "I can't stand it, myself. I prefer watching Quidditch."
"You would," Albus said smoothly, brushing at his light green robed absently. "But each of us is different."
You can say that again.
I drifted off into thought.
Would Henry and the others accept my… differences?
You're forgetting the most important one, said a voice that sounded a lot like Albus' warm tenor. If you can't trust that Albus would accept you, then you can't trust anyone to accept you. That's no way to live.
No, it's not, but I…
I'm a coward – a sniveling coward – when in comes to things like this. I don't know if I can trust myself to not screw up if – or when – I confess all.
"John?"
I was pulled out of my reverie – again – by the grinning face of Albus Dumbledore.
"You have got to stop doing that," Albus' eyes twinkled merrily, "or I'll start thinking something's the matter with you. Do you really want to go see Sister Claire in the Hospital Wing?"
I winced. "No. I swear – that woman has got it in for me."
He chuckled. "You're probably right. She seems to like me, though."
"That's because you have the right bedside manner, or some such thing. I, apparently, have been labeled a 'bad patient.'"
"You did explode a couple cauldrons with Professor Weasley. One of them landed ten people in the Hospital Wing for a week –"
"One of those ten people was me!"
"- and I think she has remembered that."
I snorted. "Who wouldn't?"
I pushed the Prince into place, my thoughts on my memory.
Was Danny right? Do I simply not feel desire for anyone – and my liking for feminine things is just an aberration? Or do I have desire for those persons of my own gender – no matter that a man loving other men is relatively rare?
I ran a hand through my beard and over my face in exasperation.
I don't think I'm certain of anything anymore.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Albus check that no one was coming up the stairs. I watch him as he seems to draw himself together.
Albus sighed, and said, "John?"
He sounds… unsure? I never thought I'd see the day when Albus was unsure of anything – other than his own self-worth, of course.
He's a lot like me in that way, as well as others.
My interest piqued. "Yes, Albus?" I turned to face him.
He wrung his hands, first this way, and then that way. "You've noticed… that I wear things that Elphias wouldn't be seen in?"
I nodded slowly. "You and I both do, Albus."
"You've seen that I don't… look at girls…"
"…as if you were undressing them, the way that Edward does? Yes, I've noticed. Nor do I, for that matter." I scowled. "I always thought it was quite rude of him."
Is he… no, he couldn't be… Albus?
"I'm making a mess of this." Albus shook his head like a dog trying to rid its fur of water. "I'm attracted to boys, John."
I gaped at him in shock, and then sat down on my bed. I put my face in my hands.
"John?"
That's an opening I can't ignore. Might as well say it…
"Me too, Albus."
Suddenly we were laughing, crying and laughing, at ourselves and at each other.
Albus wiped tears from his face, eyes twinkling with merriment like twin suns. "I wasn't sure how you'd react, and here you are, thinking the same thing!"
I gave a watery chuckle. "I wasn't even sure I had the courage to say it to a mirror, much less to a living being."
"You could have told Elaine."
At the mention of her name, my orange tabby cat jumped onto my bed and nuzzled my hand, purring. I scratched at her head absently. "Yes, I could have; It would have been just as hard as telling my reflection, though."
"Perhaps, perhaps."
We sat in contented silence for a while, I happy to keep petting my cat and Albus at ease with staring out the tower window.
"How does the Wizarding World react to… you know." I asked. Elaine jumped off the bed and ran out the door – Probably off to find a mouse; good for her.
Albus tapped his chin, thinking. "As far as I know, not well, but slightly better than in the Muggle World. There, it's illegal to be caught in the act, so to speak. Here, we're not allowed to marry, but are otherwise just citizens like everyone else; but as long as we mind our own business and keep our noses clean, nobody really cares."
"That's a relief. So, we can't be expelled from Hogwarts or anything for being who and what we are?"
"That's right; it might be hard getting a job, though, if your employer knows."
"Oh dear."
Silence reigned again for an uncomfortable moment. Albus broke it, saying, "How did you realize… you know?"
"An odd conversation with a man who tried to get me in bed with him. I thought and thought and thought and… I fell upon the answer."
He laughed. "Calling it an odd conversation must be an understatement."
"It is. What about you?"
"A strange comment from my mother. She wanted to know why my clothes were so… feminine. And, again, I thought until the solution was clear to me." Albus looked at the piles of books left to be shelved. "Shall we?"
"Oh, why not?"
-------------------------------
7 June 1897
-------------------------------
I sat on a bench in one of Hogwarts' outer courtyards, simultaneously basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun and studying for end-of-year exams. I chewed absently on the feathery end of my quill, and gagged when I realized it.
Yuck.
My eyes scanned over the dry pages of an ancient-looking book on Charms I'd found in the library.
Flame-Freezing Charm… Flammafrigido. I can remember that.
"Knut for your thoughts?" said an amused voice behind me.
I didn't look up. "Not worth it, Henry."
"I very much doubt that." The stocky boy reclined against a pillar, humor sparkling in his intelligent brown eyes. "You heard me coming up behind you," he stated.
"I did," I said, scribbling notes onto a spare roll of parchment, "Sort of, anyway."
"You didn't used to do that – be able to hear anyone coming up behind you, I mean."
"No, I didn't."
"I still remember the time you put so many jinxes on Edward that I thought he'd contracted dragon pox. That was quite funny."
I rolled my eyes. "Then, I didn't have a supersensory charm set up. For all I knew, he was an enemy that had come up behind me in order to harm me."
Henry tapped his chin. "That sounds like an excellent idea. How do you set it up?"
I stood, pushing my book and papers to the bench beside me. "Amdanum is the incantation…"
Someone's shoes scuffed the ground a few meters behind me. I whirled around, wand in hand – and immediately lowered it. "Professor Gabriel."
His lips twitched behind his bushy, white walrus moustache. "Mr Abrams," he smiled, "do you happen to know where I could find Mr Dumbledore?"
I looked past the professor. "Right behind you, sir."
Gabriel twisted around. "Ah, Mr Dumbledore, just the one I wanted to see."
Albus strode into the courtyard, carrying a number of books that would have been incredibly heavy – had Albus not cast a weightlessness charm on them, as it seemed he had. "You wished to see me, sir? Pardon me for asking, but – why?"
The professor chuckled. "I've always wanted to know what you would do in a high-pressure situation, Mr Dumbledore, and now I have the chance. The Headmaster has asked that I examine the best of my students for a talent in dueling. The English National Team is in such desperate need of a few good duelists, you know."
Albus nodded. "You would like to… examine me?"
"Duel you myself, actually."
His eyes lit up. "I'd be honored, sir." Albus' eyes jumped to mine. "May John watch us duel, Professor?"
How did he know… No, I ought to know by now that Albus knows what I want before I do.
"Of course. Come with me, then, Mr Dumbledore, Mr Abrams."
Later…
I sat in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, staring into the grate and its flames. I'm certain I made for an eerie sight – firelight dancing on the panes of my glasses, reflecting off all the little alchemical symbols embroidered into my indigo robes, the shadows obscuring my hands and my eyes.
But I am no great master. All I ask for is a little room to be who I am meant to be, and I believe that Fate shall take care of the rest herself. It is what she does best, after all – reflecting the actions of the bad onto themselves, and the deeds of the good onto the community.
"Knut for your thoughts?" Albus sunk himself gracefully into the chair beside me.
I shook my head. "Not worth it."
"Oh, I think it is." I could see, even with the fire making lightshows on his glasses, that Albus' eyes were twinkling.
What has he got up his sleeves? I know that I have nothing.
"Oh?"
"You beat the Defense against the Dark Arts Professor in a duel. Either you're off in your castles in the air, or you've gone into a self-depreciating slump. Whichever it is, stop it."
I rubbed at my brow with a tired hand. "You know me too well."
"And you know me better than I know myself. It goes both ways." Albus smiled wanly. "Anyway, you dueled very well. The badminton shuttles were a nice touch – distracting him long enough to get through his defenses."
"I can't help but think I cheated. He's not a young man, after all, and I tipped him head over heels with an overpowered Wingardium Leviosa. That has got to hurt."
"He opened himself up to it. He willingly dueled you, after soundly defeating me."
"It wasn't that bad, Albus. I thought you did pretty well, all things considering."
"If I did well, you did better." I opened my mouth to make a rebuttal, but Albus shushed me. "Remember that I know you too well, hmm? Trust my judgment?"
I sighed. "My brain does. My heart… not so much. Or maybe it's the other way around – I'm not sure of anything anymore."
"Things might not be certain in life, but we just have to make the best of it," Albus winked, "and you're making some good choices."
"It's good to know you think so, Albus."
He rose from his chair. "I'm heading to bed. We have Transfiguration first thing tomorrow morning, remember."
"I'll come up in a bit."
"All right."
I heard Albus' footsteps retreat up the tower steps, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Who am I? What am I? Things we each have to answer for ourselves.
The Who I have. The What I learn more of every day.
I sighed.
I suppose learning what we are is a part of wisdom and maturity. I just wish it wasn't so painful.
-------------------------------
1 September 1897
-------------------------------
I lay in my bed, staring at the plush ceiling of my four-poster. I could hear Elphias Doge's snoring in the bed nearest to the door, Edward Smith bed next to that one, and Henry Raterman in the bed to my right. In between my bed and Smith's, however, was Albus Dumbledore's.
What a terrible thing it is to lay awake, when all those around you have slipped into the arms of Morpheus. God of dreams and sleep – something I'd love to have visited unto me right now.
I shifted, moving my body and head so that I could look at the sleeping form of the one that tempted my dreams. Through his hangings, I could see Albus Dumbledore lying on his back, snoring softly. For a brief instant, I thought I saw the man he could become – his beautiful auburn hair worn long, his beard wagging with every movement of his head, power unleashed in his anger against an evil foe, kindness twinkling in every laugh, and love in every glance of his eyes, blue as the sunny sky.
Albus…
Who would have thought? Even I believed I cared for Albus as a brother, until we parted for the summer…
-------------------------------
Flashback
-------------------------------
"Write me, alright, John? No dead silence of your end, like last year – I thought something bad had happened to you!"
I chuckled. "Albus, I sent you a letter every week."
"I like reading your letters – keeps me from being too bored in Godric's Hollow."
I clapped him on the shoulder, feeling the soft wool of his cloak under my fingers. "Take care, old friend." I let humor spark in my grey eyes. "Don't let Abe get to you."
Albus laughed, and pulled me into a hug.
Love-friendship-brotherhood-companionship-affection-caring-desire…
Desire!
Albus let go of me, leaving me in a daze on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
What on earth just happened?
-------------------------------
End Flashback
-------------------------------
I'm still confused. I still don't know why I felt the things I did. Albus is my brother, isn't he? Nothing more, and certainly nothing less…
A glance at Albus' bed stopped that train of thought.
Oh dear. How much worse could this be?
I'm falling in love with my best friend.
Where do I go from here? I've never felt this sort of thing before – do I confess all to him, or do I wait it out, and see if he returns my feelings?
Confess, spoke my feelings. He may feel the same way. Better to get it all over with.
What if he doesn't? retorted the more logical side of me. What if he leaves you, abandons you?
Abandons me?
A vision of myself, alone, surrounded by books and loose papers, came to me. My dream-self seemed to have been weeping, and every few moments I watched myself roughly mop at my eyes.
Where is Albus? I asked my dream-self. Where is my friend, my confidant?
My partner?
The image warped and twisted in on itself. It showed an older Albus dancing rather closely with a tall, merry-faced man, his long, curly blond hair falling into his eyes…
No, no, NO!
I pulled myself back to my dorm room, back to the real world.
All right, all right. It's nearing midnight. I'm seventeen years old. My best friend is asleep in the bed beside me. Elphias Doge needs the silencing ward reapplied on his bed so that the rest of us can sleep through his snoring.
Calmed by the dry recitation of what is and is not, I let my mind return to the task at hand.
Maybe – just maybe – I'm in love.
I still don't know what to do about it, if anything.
Tell him, urged my feelings. He is your friend – he will not reject you.
I… I can't. I don't think I'm brave enough to stand before him and say "I love you."
Coward. He loves you – all he needs is a little encouragement.
All I need is a little hope. For all I know, he's already enamored of someone else.
Unbidden, the image of the merry-faced man came before my eyes. He laughed silently in front of me, his pale green eyes winking at some inner joke…
No, no, NO!
See?
See what?
You're envious of that vision because Albus may yet be in love with someone who isn't you.
That doesn't make me feel any better.
Think of it this way: If he loves you, and you don't tell him about your feelings for him, the love will die, and Albus will turn to someone else. If he doesn't love you, and you still tell him of your feelings, all there is between you is some embarrassment – embarrassment can't stand up to the affection you'd still have for one another.
My eyes focused on the dark red hangings of my four-poster bed. I twiddled my thumbs absently as I thought through my possibilities.
If Albus has feelings for me, and I don't tell him that I feel the same, he'll think that I don't like him in that way.
If Albus has feelings for me, and I tell him that I feel the same, we'll try out a romantic relationship.
If Albus doesn't have feelings for me, and I tell him that I like him romantically, we'll both be quite embarrassed, but it won't hurt our friendship in the long run.
If Albus doesn't have feelings for me, and I don't tell him that I like him romantically, we'll have no reason to be embarrassed.
I rolled over so that I was no longer facing the object of my affections. Thinking through my options hadn't shown me a clear path of what to do.
I sighed. I could reflect on this more in the morning.
-------------------------------
4 September 1897
-------------------------------
The Hogwarts library was quiet. Being a Saturday, most people were relaxing, or playing games – not doing their homework.
I'm not most people.
"John?"
I looked up from my Transfiguration homework. "Yes, Henry?"
Henry looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Has something come between you and Albus? You two are dancing circles around each other."
I fought to keep my face blank. "No, not as far as I am aware."
"Really?" Henry sat down in the chair opposite me.
"Why would you think otherwise?"
Is Albus interested?
Henry's brown eyes sparkled. "If nothing is going on between you, then why do you keep looking at him? And why does he keep looking at you? Of course, you manage to look at each other without the other knowing he is looking…" Henry shook his head. "I just confused myself."
"No, no. You got your point across." I glanced over at Albus, where he sat deep in conversation with a seventh year Ravenclaw girl. I only caught a few words of the conversation, but as they were "Weasley," "cauldron," and "dungeon," I would bet a pretty Galleon that they were discussing NEWT Potions.
Henry brushed his dark brown hair out of his face. "If I am not greatly mistaken, John, I think that you and Albus are completely in love with each other."
Love-friendship-brotherhood-companionship-affection-caring-love…
I fought to keep my emotions from my demeanor. "What makes you say that?"
Henry chortled. "First, it's obvious to everyone with a brain that you're… shall we say, not any competition for girls. Most of those people don't really care, either. Second, you've been a little obsessive over what the other thinks of each of you since the end of fourth year.
"Third, I saw that hug he gave you at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on Leavetaking Day last year, John. He was giving you the most adoring of expressions that no one could mistake it for anything but love. Whether that love was romantic or brotherly, I didn't know, until you two confirmed it for me."
"I don't understand, Henry."
"Every time you laugh, John, Albus gives you an affectionate smile. On every occasion you frown, Albus tries to see what's causing it. Every moment, you know exactly where Albus is, because you care for him so deeply that you want to know where he is, always – you want to know that he's safe."
I massaged my forehead in an attempt to ward off the coming headache. "And here I thought I was being discreet."
Henry smiled. "You were, actually. Most people here don't have a brain to work with. I think it's rather sweet, the way you look at each other."
"It's nice to know you think so, Henry." I looked back at my homework and scowled. "Do you have any idea what determines how long an inanimate conjuration lasts?"
Henry ran a hand though his hair, and then said, "Not even an inkling, I'm afraid."
"It depends on the skill of the conjurer, and on the size of the conjuration," said a familiar voice behind me. "It's the same as in Transfiguration – Professor Whelan went over it last week."
I wheeled around in my chair to see Albus' smirking face above me. "Albus! Don't do that!"
"Do what? Sneak up on you?" His eyes shone like twin suns. "You must have been absorbed in your work, and have forgotten to put up your supersensory charm, because I certainly wasn't trying to be quiet."
"Sister Angelica threw a fit the last time I did magic in here, and threatened to ban me if I ever did it again." I turned to Henry. "How long has he been standing there?"
Henry drummed his fingers on the table. "Since you asked about the Transfiguration."
"Wonderful," I said sarcastically, and turned back to Albus, dropping the cynical attitude. "Thanks."
He watched me scribble on my roll of parchment. "You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe Meghan Olson needs some pointers."
He walked away, and I found myself missing his presence almost immediately.
"I take it back," Henry's voice broke my reverie. "If you keep staring after him like that, it'll be obvious to everyone with only half a brain that you like him."
I scowled and went back to attempting to write my essay, barely noticing when Henry stood up and left, presumably for Edward and Elphias' company.
Good for him. And good for me, too – maybe now I can get this essay written.
However, I found it nearly impossible to focus on my essay when thoughts of Albus, broom cupboards, and several things unmentionable to my mother kept intruding on my concentration.
Two hours and three rewrites later, I had gotten no further on my Transfiguration.
Transfiguration… Albus is good at Transfiguration… Albus is probably done with his homework by now…
I threw down my quill and huffed.
This needs settling. Will I have the courage to confess all, though?
-------------------------------
6 September 1897
-------------------------------
"Now, today I have a treat planned for us." Professor Gabriel said, tugging at his white, bushy walrus moustache. "It is the first Defense against the Dark Arts class of this year, after all."
The NEWT Defense against the Dark Arts class perked up.
I wasn't expecting this. He always lectured the first half of the year, and then we moved on the practical things after Christmas…
Gabriel smiled and moved to the head of the classroom. He said, "I know, I know. I'm supposed to lecture, and then ask you to apply your knowledge." His face hardened for a moment. "Not in NEWT level. Here, I expect you to have learned the theory already. Now, we're moving on to a higher level of application."
Albus and I exchanged a glance.
What could he have us work on?
"Who can tell me what a Patronus is?"
Albus and I raised our hands, as did a sizable number of the Ravenclaws and a handful of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.
"Mr Dumbledore?"
"A Patronus is a magical incarnation of the caster's innermost positive feelings," Albus said. "It is invoked against Dementors and Lethifolds, using the incantation Expecto Patronum."
"Very good! Five points to Gryffindor! The Patronus Charm is extremely advanced magic, so don't be discouraged if you can't get a fully corporeal Patronus on your first, second, or even third try."
Gabriel's eyes roved over the students. "You will need a memory – a very happy memory – to make the incantation work." He clapped his hands together. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get started!"
No one needed a second invitation. We rose out of our desks and moved into the practicing area, each of us trying to bring a happy memory to mind.
What memory should I use?
Thoughts of the day I received my Hogwarts letter filled my psyche.
All right. I can try that one.
"Expecto Patronum!" Lots of silver mist emerged from my wand, but no corporeal form. Even though Professor Gabriel had said it was hard, I wasn't expecting the Patronus Charm to bee too difficult for me. I frowned.
What about the day I met Albus? If that wasn't happy, what is?
I focused harder on the memory this time. "Expecto Patronum!" More mist exploded from the tip of my wand. I could see, vaguely, the mist trying to coalesce into a form, but to no avail. I released the magic, and it vanished.
Maybe that memory's just not good enough…
I chewed at my lip. I didn't have a large number of happy memories. Nearly all of my childhood memories with my father involved him yelling at me for something I had done, and my mother was never the sort to give me much affection – be it verbal approval or even a hug, now and again…
What about that hug Albus gave me at the end of last year?
I thought of ice and glaciers, fighting to keep a blush from my cheeks.
Why not? What have I got to lose by trying?
I thought back to that day, reliving my feelings when Albus embraced me.
Love-friendship-brotherhood-companionship-affection-caring-desire…
Love!
"Expecto Patronum!"
Later…
A fire crackled in the Gryffindor Common Room's grate. Darkness had fallen, and most people had followed the sun's lead to bed, and to sleep.
Only I, and one other, remained there, reading and writing my candlelight and firelight.
"What were you thinking of, John?"
I didn't look up from my Potions essay. "Albus, stop asking. I already said I'm not going to tell you."
I heard Albus sit up from his position on the overstuffed couch. "You were the only one who got the Patronus charm to work. The rest of us were just getting a lot of white fog, but you had a corporeal Patronus wolf prancing around the classroom on your third try! I thought it was going to blind me, it was so bright."
I shook my head. "Not telling."
I could hear the pouting in Albus' voice as certainly as if I'd been watching his face. "Come on, John! I just want some pointers!"
I sighed, and threw down my quill onto the table. "Fine," I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.
I watched Albus go from pouting to excited in about half a second. "Really? You'll show me what you did?"
I stood and took out my wand. "I'll help you."
Albus jumped up from the couch. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou-"
"Albus, stop it." I took a deep breath. "What memory were you using?"
He blushed. "The day I met you,"
I raised my eyebrows. "That's what I used, the second time."
"Really?"
"Yes. As you noticed, it wasn't the one that got me the best results."
"Oh." Albus looked a little put out when I said that.
"Think of a moment where…" I struggled to find words good enough to describe my memory. "Where…" I started to pace in front of the fire. "Words can't describe the emotion very well."
"Emotion?" Albus asked, with an odd look on his face. "So many good emotions that they wash away all conscious thought?"
I nodded. "That sounds as good a definition as any."
I watched Albus immerse himself in his memory. A warm smile spread over his features, and a fire glowed in his eyes as he said, "Expecto Patronum!"
A huge phoenix burst from his wand. The silvery light it gave off lit up the common room, and I had to shield my eyes from the radiance.
Love-friendship-brotherhood-companionship-affection-caring-desire…
Albus let the phoenix dissipate.
I smiled. "It seems that you didn't really need my help."
Albus shook his head. "No, no, you helped, John."
I lifted my eyebrows.
How so?
I sat back in my chair and tried to focus on my potions homework.
Properties of Amortentia… let's see, a mother-of-pearl sheen to the potion itself, an odor distinctive to each individual, and steam rising in spirals from the cauldron…
"You know, I don't think either of us is good at saying certain things," Albus said nonchalantly.
Too nonchalantly. Something's on his mind, and he doesn't know how to phrase it.
"I'm inclined to agree," I said, dotting a final period on my essay. I blew on it, in hopes that it would help the ink dry. I turned in my chair so that I faced Albus.
He looked into my eyes. "John, we've been best friends for more than six years."
"Yes, that's true."
Where on earth is Albus going with this?
"Neither of us is remotely interested in girls."
"I thought we covered that in the beginning of last year."
He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm making as much a mess of this as I did with that conversation."
"You are?"
He glared at me halfheartedly. "What I'm trying to say is… I like you."
He what
I cannot have heard that right.
"You what?"
"I like you, John – in a way that isn't strictly platonic."
YES!
I smiled at Albus. "You have far more courage than I, old friend. I feel the same way."
He gaped at me, and then sat down heavily in the chair beside mine. "I was expecting a far different conversation."
"Oh?"
"I never thought you would like me that way."
"Nor I, you, Albus. But, the attraction is there."
We sat in a companionable silence for a while, staring into the depths of the fire.
"What did you use to fuel your Patronus?"
I spoke, even as I tried to divine what secrets the fire could hold. "That hug you gave me on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at the end of last year."
"I loved you, even then."
"I know that now. Hindsight is perfect, after all."
Albus laughed. "Indeed, indeed."
"What about you? What memory did you use?"
"It wasn't a memory, exactly. I thought about all the love I had for you, and you returning it."
I smiled. "Perhaps we can make those thoughts into memories, hmm?"
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Author's Note:
Please tell me what you think - even if it's just to tell me I'm way off base and should stop writing this. I love getting constructive criticsm, so any you can give me would be wonderful!