Summary: When Voldemort successfully kills Harry in a surprise attack on Hogwarts, one man must make a sacrifice that will either save the world or destroy it forever.
Warnings: Eventual slash, HPDM, with other pairings down the line. Some slash, some het.
Chapter One: Lost Mementos
The small room behind the Hog's Head was not one that many people knew about, let alone visited. It was a cluttered space, full of many small and mostly useless trinkets, stacks of newspapers huddled against the mildewed walls, and layers of dust clinging to almost everything. The only pristine surface in the room was that of two pictures that graced the back wall, both framing the portrait of a timid looking witch with golden hair.
The portraits shook against the walls as the door slammed open, revealing an older man with wild hair, drenched with rain. He fell through the door, slamming it shut as his knees hit the stone floor and sobs racked through his body. The crack of Apparition sounded shortly afterwards, leaving a howling house-elf in its wake.
"Master Aberforth, the castle," sobbed Dobby, joining Aberforth as he huddled in the middle of the room. "They has killed Harry Potter, sir," he choked out, his large ears drooping and his eyes filled with tears. The older man placed a hand on the house-elf's shoulder, controlling his sobs long enough to speak.
"Yes, Dobby.. I know," he said quietly, bright blue eyes piercing and moistened with tears. The house-elf wailed and threw himself against Aberforth, clutching the older man helplessly as he sobbed into his cloak. He did his best to calm the elf, staving off his own despair as he tried to console his small friend. "Dobby, I need your attention for a moment," he said softly, not wanting to upset the creature any more than he already was. Dobby sniffled and visibly pulled himself together, showing the courage that had endeared Aberforth to the elf some time ago.
"Whatever Master Aberforth is needing, Dobby will help," he said shakily, unshed tears clouding his eyes. Aberforth forced himself to smile, a sight which he was sure was not pretty.
"There you are, Dobby. I knew you had it in you," he said gruffly. He rose to his feet, striding towards his desk. He took a moment to gaze at his sister framed on the wall and silently asked her for strength before shuffling through a large stack of papers on his desk. Finding a particularly battered piece of yellow parchment, he turned to Dobby, who had begun sniffling again. "This is a document I acquired from my brother shortly before his death. I assumed it was worthless when it was given to me, but now... Now, I think this could hold the key to winning this war." The sniffles from the house-elf abruptly quieted, and he looked up at Aberforth with large, hopeful eyes.
"Master Aberforth thinks there is a way to fix this?" he asked in a barely audible voice, scarcely able to believe his ears.
"It's the only hope we have, my friend. It will be difficult to accomplish, but with your help I believe we stand a chance." Dobby visibly straightened to his full height, and nodded his head vigorously.
"Anything. Dobby will do anything to help." The last of his tears had fallen, and nothing but pure determination was visible in his features. Aberforth smiled again, this time a little less terrifying than the last.
"Right then. We have a lot of preparation to do."
The night stretched long, with Aberforth and Dobby bustling about the small room, gathering necessary items and working on the ritual they would need to use. By morning, they were both exhausted from their work, but Aberforth refused to stop until they had completed everything. Finally, at eleven o'clock that morning, their work was finally done, and Aberforth sat in the middle of a sea of runes drawn on the stone floor, with Dobby looking on with large, wary eyes.
"Master Aberforth is sure this will be working?" Dobby asked quietly, his high pitched voice laced with anxiety.
"Not at all, Dobby," he said gravely. "For all I know, Albus could have just wanted to get rid of me." Dobby frowned deeply, but held his tongue about the insult to his former master. "Either way," he continued, "we've got no other choice, my friend." He sighed deeply and motioned towards his desk. "I need you to retrieve the letter I've written and bring it to the address listed on the envelope once we have finished. Dobby, this is very important. No matter what happens to me here, you must deliver that letter." The house-elf bobbed his head up and down quickly.
"Of course, Master Aberforth, of course."
Aberforth smiled sadly at Dobby, one of the only true friends he had throughout his life. "As I'm sure you will," he said softly. "You have been a great friend to me, Dobby, and I will never forget your dedication. Now, take that letter, and off with you." Dobby wailed, shaking his head harshly in protest.
"I cannot be leaving you here, Master Aberforth! What if something goes wrong?" he said, tears streaming down his face once again.
"Now now, Dobby, you've done your part here. All that's left is for me to complete the ritual, and I don't need you in danger if it backfires," he said dismissively, waving a hand at the devastated elf. "Take that letter, and off with you."
Reluctantly, Dobby grabbed the letter delicately from the desk, turning a last desperate look towards Aberforth. His bottom lip started to quiver, and the older man was not at all surprised when the elf wailed again and threw himself back into his arms.
"I will be seeing you again, Master Aberforth," he sobbed. "You is not dying here," he said as he clutched at his master's robes. Aberforth sighed and embraced Dobby, his courage slightly faltering.
"I need you to be strong, Dobby. There is no other way," he said, his voice betraying the fear he felt. Dobby violently shook in his arms, and Aberforth could feel his chest clench with emotion. "I'm sorry, my friend, there is no other way," he repeated, softly pushing the house-elf from his chest. "I hope that you will find the courage I know you have." With a final sob, Dobby wrenched himself away from his master and stepped outside of the rune circle.
"I will always be remembering you, Master Aberforth," he said softly, eyes filled with tears, and with a crack, he was gone.
Steeling himself, Aberforth looked at the portrait of his sister again, praying not to falter.
"My dearest Ariana..." he said softly, the tears he kept at bay falling freely to the ground. "I will be with you soon."
He took a deep, ragged breath and pulled the dagger from the sheath on his belt. He held it in both hands in front of him, and said in a booming voice that rivaled his brother's, "The sacrifice of one is the sacrifice of all! Dovita mea! Animam et vitam multi! Accipite haecet recreare!"
Piercing blue light erupted from the middle of the circle and traveled down the drawn lines on the floor as Aberforth plunged the dagger into his chest. The room shook with the force of ten earthquakes, the scenery quickly twisting in upon itself, and everything went black.