Title: Alas. Earwax.
Disclaimer: The characters, world and franchise do not belong to me in any way.
Summary: Arianna's magic is like a cool, fresh breeze. Beans of any kind taste like guilt. Till the end of his days, Albus Dumbledore will remember his sister.
Warning: Character death(s)
Author's Notes: This is just a little stream-of-consciousness piece that I scribbled down after breakfast one day, after my other half had acquired some Bertie Bott's for me. I've done a quick edit, but if it seems more disjointed and rough at the end, it was supposed to reflect the character's deteriorating state of mind. Hopefully I have presented that in an understandable way. That and I haven't written/posted for more years than I'd like to count, now.
Alas. Earwax.
It was the last piece of magic Arianna had willfully (if clumsily) performed. He had carefully sifted through the bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans for all her favourites, the palatable ones… and eaten them, leaving only the more unfortunate flavours behind.
She had, in a fit of justified, sisterly rage, quite literally cursed him, yelling "I hope you find out what it is like to have only the bitter, disgusting beans, Albus, and know that you must reap what you sow!". Then, precocious young thing that she was, she had stomped her little foot, unscrewed her taut, red little face and walked away 'like a lady'. He felt… something… settle on him. Cool, fresh and oddly, not unwelcome. Of course, he had immediately run to his mother to remove it. She had only laughed, told him his little sister might grow to outshine them all and told him his punishment for teasing his sister was to have the spell remain till the school holidays were over. Their father had agreed with a grin and a wink. Arianna was triumphant at the dinner table that night, particularly as it became apparent that all beans were unpalatable to him, not just the sweets, but he had to eat his dinner anyway. He vowed revenge.
The next day, Arianna was attacked.
For a while, he had bigger things to worry over than a silly, childish burst of accidental magic. As it became apparent, however, that his little sister was truly gone, he reached out around himself with tendrils of magic, hoping, wishing, not doubt in vain that this one last spell was still there.
It was.
Once he became aware of it again, he could not forget it. He was older now, understood more of magic.
It broke his heart.
It was a thing of brilliance. There was the curse – inelegantly applied, but clever nonetheless – the summoning of all 'bad' beans, and the repelling of the 'good'. It was the second element, however, that truly shone. Where the curse was small, like a cool breeze, whispering over him, the second, from the one-day fateful words of 'you must reap what you sow' was like a quilt, a net, catching his own ambient magic to make the curse self-sustaining. As long as he was alive, so was this one piece of Arianna's magic, floating on top. It gave him hope and enraged him in equal measure. How dare those foolish, filthy muggles take this promise from her? This seething resentment made him so very susceptible to Gellert's sweet promises of power and order…
When it was done, and he had lost what remained of his family – one to death, and one to bitterness – he would draw Arianna's curse around him like a cloak. It was so imbued with his own magic by now, that it even acted as a momentary barrier against all magic. Sometimes this was convenient, sometimes it was not. If he concentrated, though, he could feel the cool -breeze tingle of his little sister's magic whisper, caress over the top of his being, like a benediction.
He wore it as a reminder. He wore it as a memorial. He wore it as penance, as guilt. He turned his abominable luck with the jellies into a joke for the young ones, each bite a reminder more bitter than the candy sweet that he had long become long inured to. He gulped down beans with dinner when he could not avoid them, and vanished them from his sight when he could.
His little sister was with him, through thick and thin. She had been triumphant as he defeated dear Gellert, she had comforted him as they weathered the acid that spilled forth from their brother's mouth. He rejoiced in her ability to live on, but when he discovered that most dangerous, most damned of the Hallows… he could not resist the thought of seeing his darling sister's face again.
Though Arianna protected him from his folly with the ring as best she could, she could not stop it. So it led to this. Harry petrified under his father's magnificent, dangerous cloak. Draco, pale and shaking, and Severus, pointing his want wand at his black, withered hand with agony in his eyes.
The green burst of light sped toward him and he hugged Arianna to him as best he could, one last time, more devastated that she would die again, rather than that he would.
But as the spell hit, he felt his barrier, his sister, shatter and break. Time slowed down past a crawl and he felt that cool, comforting breeze swept away by a maelstrom. He wanted to scream, he wanted to fall to his knees and weep. This was not supposed to happen! She was to die with him, not before, not leave him alone, again!
Then the spell struck, and he knew no more.