"Morning, Ariana," I called softly, sliding they key out of the lock and slowly opening the cellar door. I peeped my head into my sister's bedroom to find her lying on her bed, stretching and yawning.
Though the sun shone bright outside, only a small amount of the daylight could be seen through the tiny window. She'd slept down here for nearly seven years now, ever since she... changed. Well, Albus would say "went insane". Dad said "was attacked by those bastard muggle kids" when we were allowed to visit him in Azkaban. Mum called it "when she needed special care". Mum was the most loving out of all of us. But mum wasn't there anymore.
She was killed in the accident. The accident that could've been prevented if I'd been there to calm my sister down. She didn't mean to do it - she can't control her magic. To this day, I still blame myself. They say time heals wounds, but not this one. The pain never ends.
"Ready for breakfast?" I asked. Ariana nodded; she got up and slotted her tiny hand into mine as I lead her up the stairs.
She took a seat on the battered old sofa, while I went over to the kitchen counter, taking the steaming pot of porridge I'd made earlier off the gas hob and spooning it into two bowls. I'd cooked enough for the both of us; Albus could make his own. He was upstairs, feather quill flying across the parchment as he wrote a "very important and top secret" letter to some "very important" person.
God, I hated him. Still do; he was a suck-up, a swot, too big for his boots. And worst of all, he didn't care about her. Ariana. I understand that he didn't like me - not many people do, really. But his little sister, the one person he should protect and love the most. Nope. He couldn't give a damn.
I passed the bowl and a spoon to her. She thanked me quietly before beginning to eat. Sitting down next to her, I did the same. Quiet fell over us as we ate, the only noise being the occasional clinking of metal spoons on the china. The porridge wasn't that good - I couldn't make it like our mum did. She always cooked it at just the right temperature for just that right amount of time, adding berries or syrup (which were luxuries that now, we could only dream of being able to afford) to sweeten the taste of the bland porridge; she managed to make a meal that nobody really likes actually quite enjoyable.
I tried to think about something else, but it was inescapable... everything in our gloomy little living room reminded me of her. It brought back memories. Memories of being sat on the armchair with her as she levitated books to amuse Albus and I. Her and Dad making dinner together each night, him holding up a ladle full of hot soup for her to taste, before placing a kiss on her nose. Her holding Ariana in her arms when she was just a baby, gazing down at her with a loving smile, rocking her gently until she fell into a deep sleep.
It hurt. Every little flicker of a memory that passed through my mind tore at my heart, seemingly taking away a piece of it. God, I wanted her back. To be with us, to take care of us... so that I could tell her just how much I love her.
Loved.
Shaking these thoughts from my head, I finished my last spoonful of porridge and got up to wash my empty bowl in the dirty old sink.
"Ab?" Ariana said quietly.
"Yeah?" I replied, picking up a towel to dry the crockery.
"Am I evil?"
I turned around and stared at my sister. Ariana looked so small and helpless in that moment; she sounded scared, looking up at me questioningly with those piercing blue eyes. Every Dumbledore has those eyes.
"Of course not," I said firmly, turning away and continuing to scrub the bowl, this time a little more vigorously than was needed.
"But... mum died because of me, didn't she?" she asked, her voice cracking on the last word. I looked back at her, and was devastated to see tears cascading down her cheeks, some falling into her bowl of porridge.
"No, Ariana. She didn't die because of you," I looked her in the eyes, willing her to believe me. I really didn't want her to have an episode. Not now. Not today. Not ever again.
"She'd still be here... if I wasn't crazy," a sob escaped her lips and a few sparks flew around just above her head. This was normal - when she felt strong emotions, the magic would burst out of her uncontrollably. Thank god she wasn't angry; when she was angry, serious things happened. Like the accident.
"Oh, sis. Come here," I crossed the room in three steps and sat down next to her on the patchy old sofa, putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. "You're not crazy. What happened to you, what you do... it's not your fault."
"I still do it though," she whispered, burying her head into my chest, clinging to me. She hadn't done this for years, not since she was about five, when she fell over in the garden. But this was different. What happened back then was easily fixed; all she needed was a quick hug and a plaster on her scratched knee. This was something that wouldn't go away. It would haunt us. Not Albus, though. He didn't blame himself like me and my sister did. He was free to go off and change the world with his fancy new ideas and 'brilliant' mind. I envied his ability not to be affected by it like Ariana and I.
Suddenly, the bowl in Ariana's hands smashed into several pieces that crashed to the floor and more sparks began to fly around the room, knocking things over. I could tell she was trying to hold the magic in, but it was hard for her, not like it is for normal kids. I murmured words of comfort to her, rubbing her back to try and calm her down, praying she wouldn't fly off the handle.
"I miss mummy," she said, her voice thick with tears. I squeezed her as tight as I could without hurting her, feeling a lump in my throat. I missed mum too. So, so much. But I couldn't cry in front of my baby sister.
"Ariana, listen to me. You are so special. What you can do, it's not like normal magic. And most of the time, it's amazing."
I was speaking completely honestly when I said this. When she was happy, Ariana could work miracles; her smile made the flowers outside our house grow taller, her laugh made the sun shine brighter. This kind of thing usually took a fully qualified witch or wizard and a wand to create. It was just when she was frightened or angry that she lost control and bad things happened.
"Albus doesn't think so," she said quietly, sounding annoyed.
"What's he said this time?" I asked, blood boiling hot with anger. I swore, I'd smash his face in if he said one more bad thing about our sister. She was twice the person he'd ever be, no matter what school or anyone else said about how perfect he was.
"Nothing, nothing. I can just tell he doesn't like me," Ariana mumbled quickly. I didn't quite believe her, I could tell something must have happened between them recently without me knowing, but I knew she didn't want me to start yelling at him. Conflict was likely to set her off.
"Oh, sod Albus," I said firmly. She giggled a little before stopping herself, as though it were naughty to be doing so. I went on: "He doesn't know anything. I know he seems all clever, but if he was, he'd be able to see how wonderful you really are".
Ariana gave me a small, shy smile, wiping her eyes with her hand.
"Better now?" I asked. She nodded in response. "You want to help me feed the goats?"
"Yes please," she cried joyfully, standing up and dragging me off the sofa by the arm.
As I watched her bound excitedly towards the front door, a grin spread across my face, and I knew that we could get through this together. We didn't need Albus, or the 'help' that school had offered us in the past. No matter how difficult this was, seeing her happy gave me more strength than I ever thought I could have. We'd be ok, as long as I could keep her smiling. As long as we had each other.