Chapter 2

The old house had never looked welcoming, at least not to Albus, but the fact that he was dreading what he'd find inside made it ten times worse. From the outside, it looked like just another small two-story dwelling, a cottage really. Vines snaked their way up their walls, though the front garden was well-kept, as the only part of the home visible from the street. A stone wall lined with shrubbery surrounded the property for privacy's sake, even though it hadn't been enough to conceal Ariana forever. The back garden was much more overgrown, but there was a reasonable amount of clean lawn and patio for entertaining—not that they really entertained much. The only neighbor they spoke to, Bathilda Bagshot, might pop over for tea every now and again, and Elphias usually came for a visit at least once per summer, but other than that, only the residents of the Dumbledore home ever went in.

Albus hated the place. He hated hearing Ariana's screams, which crept up the stairs into his bedroom. He hated hearing his mother's pleading, Aberforth's voice rising when he thought she was being too harsh on Ariana. Even the bleating of the goats bothered him, though there was no reason why it should. But despite the fact that it held at least two occupants year-round, the house had an air of neglect. Maybe it was the fact that Albus's mother had kept it spotlessly clean and free of possessions, as though they would vacate any second. Maybe it was the fact that they never congregated in what, in a normal home, would be used as a sitting room. Ariana stayed in the cellar. Aberforth was always either down there with her or out back with the goats. When their mother wasn't tending to Ariana, she stayed in her bedroom, alone. And Albus was always locked by himself in his.

The place had never felt like home to him, and he doubted it ever would. Now that he was finished with Hogwarts, he'd planned on getting his own place as soon as he'd returned from his trip with Elphias. He'd had half a mind never to return, to settle in one of the cities they passed through on the tour, maybe moving to London after a few years abroad and applying his knowledge to a job in the Ministry or for one of the academic publications. Maybe apply for a position at Hogwarts once he was older. He hadn't told his family this, but he'd never intended to return to Godric's Hollow for more than a visit.

It wasn't that he didn't love them. He cared for Ariana more than anyone knew. But Ariana didn't love him the way she loved Aberforth, Aberforth had always resented him, and their mother…Albus always felt she liked him least of her children, and none of his accomplishments ever seemed to please her.

But it didn't matter now. She was gone, he would never see her again, and he was back here, the last place he wanted to be, and there would be no running away. Perhaps after Aberforth finished school, he could stay home with Ariana and Albus could go out on his own. But without their mother, that felt much more like abandonment than if he'd left with her still there. Like it or not, he was man of the house now.

With a sigh, and wishing he were back at the Leaky Cauldron alone with Elphias, he stepped up to the house and opened the door.

Aberforth was sitting alone at the kitchen table. He looked up as Albus entered, then got up from his seat. "For awhile I wasn't sure you were coming."

"I left about 60 seconds after I got Sol's letter," Albus said crossly. He flicked his wand, and his bag drifted down the corridor and upstairs to his room. He joined his brother at the table, and both young wizards sat down, Albus studying Aberforth, who was looking determinedly at the scrubbed wooden surface. Though he was barely fifteen, he already looked older than Albus. They had the same bright blue eyes, but the similarities ended there. Aberforth's hair was a dirty blonde, not smooth like Ariana's, and hung in strings around his head even when he wasn't this gloomy and dejected. There was a line in the center of his forehead that only went away when he was laughing with his sister, and his clothing was dirty and frayed. He avoided eye contact—except when he was angry—and he usually had a tight grip on his wand despite having two years before he could legally do magic.

"So what happened?"

"It was last night," Aberforth said, tracing the wood grain of the table with his left hand. "Ariana seemed fine when I left. There was some sort of explosion or something—I don't know what spell it was. Maybe not even a real spell. All I know is, I get home, Ariana's hiding in the closet, bawling, Mother's on the ground. She's got…burn marks. Her dress is singed and torn, but I don't know exactly what killed her. Ariana hasn't said a word. It took me hours to get her to sleep, she wouldn't take any Calming Draft or anything."

"And where were you? Out in the goat pen again?"

Aberforth glared at Albus, his bright eyes piercing. "Mum sent me to Miss Bagshot's. She's got the flu. I brought over some Pepperup Potion, made her tea and some soup. I wasn't gone an hour. If I'd been with the goats, I would have heard the commotion and come running, wouldn't I?"

Albus didn't answer. "Where is she?" he said instead.

"I told you, she's asleep—"

"Not Ariana. Mum. What did you do with her body?"

Aberforth gave a jerk of his head toward the stairs. "I put her in her bed for now. Look," he said as Albus rose from the table. Albus turned to his brother again. "Don't worry about us. I can take care of Ariana, I'm better with her than anyone. You want to go off with your pathetic boyfriend, go for it. I just thought you at least ought to stay for the funeral."

"Don't be ridiculous," Albus snapped. "And don't call Elphias pathetic. And he's not my boyfriend. Not really," he murmured as he left the room.

Kendra Dumbledore might have been sleeping. Aberforth had covered her with a sheet, but Albus lowered it to look at her face. A proud woman, dignified-looking even in death. Albus gathered her dark hair and braided it, tying the smooth locks at the end, and resting the braid on her flat stomach. She'd been beautiful, high cheekbones, her skin a shade darker than the rest of her family's. Ariana didn't look a thing like her, really, though she was just as beautiful.

Aberforth appeared in the doorway, and Albus turned to him.

"So when should we do it, you think?" the younger brother asked. "Just us, and Miss Bagshot if she's up to it. I was thinking today, but I haven't told Miss Bagshot yet. Tomorrow would be better, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Albus sighed. "Have you spoken with Mr. Abbott yet?"

"Who?"

"He does the wizard funerals at the church."

"Oh," Aberforth muttered. "I didn't think about that."

"All right," Albus said, rising from the bed. "I'll send him an owl. And I'll break the news to Bathilda too. If Ariana wakes up, tell her I'm here and I'll be back soon."

Albus was eager to get out of the house. Maybe it was his mother that died, but he felt more like an intruder than a grieving family member.

—

The funeral was quick and quiet. Elphias had surprised Albus by coming, and Albus was secretly relieved to have him there. Bathilda Bagshot had attended despite her flu, and Aberforth kept Ariana in check. As Kendra had gone out of her way not to make friends, there was no one else there. Even Mr. Abbott, who led the funeral, had never formally met her. Aberforth was the only one who spoke about Kendra, though Albus conjured an elaborate arrangement of violets and lilies to lay on her grave. As the short procession made its way back to the cemetery entrance, Ariana, who had not stopped crying since the funeral started, laid a small hand on the white marble. Aberforth squeezed her shoulder, and they followed Mr. Abbott to the path, Albus and Elphias bringing up the rear.

The two young wizards held back from the rest at the entrance to the cemetery. Albus looked into his best friend's eyes and took his hand.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered. "I mean it."

"Of course," Elphias said, squeezing his fingers. "I liked your mother, Al. And I want to be here for you. I can't let you go through this alone. I'll stay as long as you want. I'll stay, Albus."

Albus kissed him, soft and gentle, reveling in the warmth and comfort it gave him. "Thank you," he whispered. "But you shouldn't stay. You need to go. I need to take care of them." He nodded toward his brother and sister, who were already a block away with Bathilda.

"And you don't want me here with you, to help you?"

"It's not that I don't want you. It's just…" Albus trailed off.

"You think I'll resent you if I stay?" Elphias asked, his eyes searching Albus's.

"That's only part of it," Albus said. He wouldn't have minded Elphias's company, really, but he didn't know about Ariana, about the real reason she never left the house. No one did. He couldn't give Elphias the responsibility of the secret. Close as he was to Albus, he was an outsider. And it wasn't his burden to bear, it was Albus's. "I love you, Elf," Albus said. "Really, I do. But right now, I just need to be with my family. All right?"

Albus felt the pressure on his fingers as Elphias squeezed them. "I understand," he said.

—

Partly due to the Pepperup Potion Kendra had brewed for her, Bathilda had recovered from her illness sufficiently enough that she insisted on making supper for the Dumbledores, refusing Albus's offer of help.

"You just sit now," she said in a motherly voice, patting Albus's shoulder as she waved her wand, causing flames to appear beneath the pot on the stove. "You poor things. I can't help but feel responsible. If it weren't for my silly flu—"

"Rubbish," Albus interrupted. "You couldn't have known. No one could."

"It's my fault!" Ariana screeched. "It was my magic that…that…" and she burst into tears and bolted from the room.

"Ari, no!" Aberforth said, getting up and running after her. Sparks flew from the corridor along with her sobs, and Aberforth glared at Albus before disappearing behind the wall.

Bathilda looked after them, slightly confused. While her back was turned, Albus whispered, "Obliviate!" and she returned to the stove, stirring.

"Backfiring curse of all things," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Albus. About all this. I know you were looking forward to that trip with your friend."

"Don't," Albus said. "Don't worry about it. It was an accident. I belong here, with them."

Aberforth and Ariana didn't return upstairs for supper. Albus eventually convinced Bathilda that the three of them would be fine on their own, and she returned to her own home.

Two plates of food hovering in the air before him, Albus tiptoed down the spiral stairs to the cellar. The room could have been dark and gloomy, but the family had done their best to brighten it up for Ariana's sake. The staircase itself was elaborately molded silver, bright and beautiful—a gift to Ariana for her eleventh birthday, since she would never be getting a Hogwarts letter. At first, their mother had admonished Albus for performing the complex underage magic required to create it—he'd been fourteen at the time—but she soon came to appreciate the feature. In addition, there was an artificial window that looked out on the back garden, and the view was sunny even when it was really raining outside. Colorful drawings hung on the stone walls along with borrowed Gryffindor decorations. The twin-sized bed held faded pink sheets and blankets. Nearby was a small mahogany dresser, and a matching bookcase sat a few feet down.

The other side of the room was mostly used as storage, spare cauldrons and broomsticks, a locked cabinet with potion ingredients. Just next to the staircase was a door that led to Ariana's private bathroom. It was also small, but Albus had added another enchanted window. Any little touch he could to make it feel less like what it was—a prison.

As Albus reached the last few stairs, he heard the sound of giggling and peeked around the corner. Aberforth and Ariana were now sitting on the bed, a book open on their laps.

"See that one, Ari?" Aberforth said. "Look how tiny you were, those little curls and the little button nose." He poked the tip of her nose for effect, and she giggled again.

"She was so beautiful when she smiled," Ariana murmured.

"Almost as beautiful as you."

Ariana beamed, picked up the book Albus now recognized as the family photo album, and hugged it to her chest.

Albus rapped his knuckles on the stone wall, and his siblings looked over at him. "I brought supper," he said, and the plates floated over to them. Ariana put the book on her bedside table and picked up a fork from the plate. Albus sat down beside her and picked up the photo album.

"We were looking at old photos of Mother," Ariana explained. "Ab was telling me stories of when we were little, before we moved here. I can't remember much."

"You were a very talented witch, even then," Albus said. "If you'd come to Hogwarts, I would have had trouble competing with you."

"But I can't go to Hogwarts," she said sadly, moving her food around on her plate. "I can't control my magic, I might kill one of the other students the way…" Her lip trembled, and Aberforth shot Albus a warning look before putting his arm around his sister's shoulders.

"We talked about this, Ari," he said. "What would Mum and Dad be saying to you right now?"

"It's not my fault," she whispered. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Exactly," Aberforth said. "And don't worry about not going to Hogwarts, it's not that great anyway. I'm not going back this year. I'm going to stay here and be with you."

"You are not," Albus contradicted.

"We'll talk about it later," Aberforth said with a pointed look at Ariana, who had started eating again.

Albus held his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to upset his sister after she'd come so close to another episode. He leaned over and kissed her temple, and then went back upstairs before anything else could happen.