Chapter 1
Fourteen years.
Fourteen years had passed since Ariana was gone from this Earth. And now, here he was, in the house where they used to live in.
It was dusty. Not very dusty but signs of abandonment were getting visible, what with the dim lighting and dirty floor. The furniture were no longer pretty as they used to be, just as rust and decay began to tear the building apart.
He desired nothing else of the house. He intended to sell the house and use the money to move elsewhere, preferably a place where his family name was largely unheard of.
But how could he do such thing? There were so many memories to be treasured, moments when Aberforth Dumbledore got everything under control, when he could provide some semblance of normalcy to the Dumbledore household. His mother was still alive, still able to look after the house and its occupants. his sister was still alive, safe and normal to function around the house. Aberforth didn't want anything else but the welfare of them both.
It mattered not when his brother Albus wasn't there. Albus never wanted to be around, not while he busied himself 'collaborating' with the upper class wizards. For Aberforth, it was fine.
It was happiness for him.
But there were bad memories too, he knew as he sipped his tea. They were... painful, shameful even.
Aberforth refused to acknowledge all the pain and the bad memories, even as he nursed his throbbing head with a cup of tea, but they were there. The nightmares were always there, hiding at the dark corners of his mind, waiting to resurface every night. He never knew that tea would be his medicine to stave off the recurring nightmares. Lately the younger Dumbledore had been having unpleasant dreams.
He saw Ariana blowing up the house over and over from letting her suppressed powers loose. At one time did she killed their mother, forcing Aberforth to look after whatever left of the household. He saw that wretched man Grindelwald assaulting him with an Unforgivable Curse. He saw someone, likely Albus, firing a powerful jinx which ended Ariana's life. Sometimes Aberforth wondered if the Dumbledore family was cursed to always have bad luck chasing them.
The weary man sighed. Of all the things he could be thankful of, he was kind of grateful that he could still make himself a cup of tea as refreshment.
Fourteen years had passed, and all Aberforth had for companionship was a cup of tea.
No one to ask for help. No one to throw the blame at. He already did throw the blame; breaking Albus' nose when he punched him during their sister's funeral; not as satisfying as he hoped, but it was sufficient. It was a long time ago, yet he kept remembering it despite the years.
The tea was getting cold, he darkly mused as he took another sip.
Maybe it was a sign. A sign telling him that the house wasn't meant to be his residence anymore. A sign that he must go on and forget all that took place there.
Of course, nobody would be returning to the house, just as he refused to drink his cold tea any further. His father Percival was dead long ago in Azkaban. His mother was gone too, probably with Ariana at her side in Heaven... if there was such thing as Heaven. And Albus? Too busy teaching at Hogwarts, probably. What subject he taught and for what, Aberforth didn't have it in his heart to ask. He probably became a teacher for the greater good.
For the Greater Good...
As if.
He decided he'd had enough. No more pity party, he thought, no more wasting time in the old house. He wouldn't come back here again.
Gathering his belongings, the younger Dumbledore made some last-minute preparations as he made up his mind. Sell the damn house, his mind said. If nobody wanted it then fine, Aberforth bitterly thought as he carried whatever personal objects he might need later on before leaving the house forever. No use bringing items of sentimental value along, unless it was related to Ariana. From that moment onward, Aberforth Dumbledore vowed to never get himself involved in Albus' plots, no matter how much greater good it would yield.
He didn't look back.
