Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me, alas; it belongs instead to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Warner Brothers, and possibly a few others I've forgotten. No harm is intended, and no profit is being made.
A/N: Another challenge fic from Third Floor Corridor. 300-500 words on Aberforth. This one is exactly 500 words.
In Charge
Kendra was dead. Ariana, unaware that her mother was dead, or that she had been the one to kill her, sat quietly as Aberforth tried to keep from sobbing.
Albus, on Ariana's other side, glanced over his shoulder at the deserted graveyard, looking afraid of being caught at his own mother's funeral with his cripple sister and resentful brother. Aberforth felt the burning desire to punch his brother's proud, straight nose, but mastered the urge. The old wizard performing the private funeral continued, his voice solemn as he spoke of Kendra. More tears escaped Aberforth's eyes, tracing the trail down his cheeks left behind by his earlier tears.
Aberforth wasn't crying for his mother, though he'd loved her in spite of her blatant favoritism for Albus. No, right now, Aberforth was crying for his sister, who fidgeted in her seat, humming tunelessly, who would feel no remorse for the death because she didn't realize that she'd done wrong, who was now at the mercy of their older brother, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
The old wizard concluded the funeral, and bowing lowly to Albus, he left. For a long moment, the three sat facing their mother's grave. Then slowly, both brothers stood. Aberforth bent to help Ariana, but Albus had a firm grip on her arm and was raising her from her seat. Ariana submitted, but once standing, she struggled, clearly unhappy. Albus clung more tightly to her. Ariana began to whimper.
"Let her go, Albus," Aberforth said, tugging at his brother's hands.
"I can't just let her go, Aberforth," Albus said condescendingly. "She's got to be watched."
"Watched, yes, not man-handled. She doesn't like to be touched."
Albus kept one hand, vice-like, on Ariana's wrist, ignoring the sounds of distress the girl was making. "Is this how it's going to be, Abe? Are you going to question me on everything now that I'm in charge?"
Once again, Aberforth wondered how his brother had bribed the Sorting Hat into putting him in Gryffindor when it was clear he belonged in Slytherin. Manipulative, clever, and power-hungry, Albus became more Slytherin every day. It was only a matter of time, Aberforth feared, before his brilliant and powerful brother took the next step into the Darkness, using what the Muggles had done to Ariana as an excuse to do away with them all.
"You didn't have to stay," Abeforth snarled. "We wanted you to go."
Albus, shocked, loosened his grip on his sister, who wretched her wrist free and fled to hide behind Aberforth. After a long pause, he asked, "What?"
"It's clear you don't want to be here, so why don't you leave?"
Albus glared at him as if he had broken some unspoken agreement. "You're my responsibility now, and I'm in charge, so let's go home."
After a long moment of glaring challengingly into his brother's cool blue eyes, Aberforth clenched his jaw and escorted Ariana home. He'd never been more scared for her in his life.