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 Two: Hidden Away
He came to his senses rather slowly, his ears ringing and his head throbbing severely. Raising a shaking hand to his temple, he pushed away the wiry hair that was plastered there, and drew in several deep breaths.
Have I... Have I failed? he thought, desperation searing through his body like fire.
Opening his eyes, Aberforth found himself on the floor of his quarters, things much the same before he had watched in terror as Voldemort and his Death Eaters had taken the castle, killing Harry Potter in their wake. The rune circle was gone, there was no sign of Dobby, and everything else was in place, just as it had been for the last 53 years that he had owned the small room at the back of the pub. Ariana gazed down upon him from her place at the back of the wall, her eyes clouded with the insanity that had taken her at such an early age.
Gathering his bearings, he stumbled to his feet. He looked down at his chest, expecting to find some remnants of the dagger he had pushed through himself what felt like minutes before, but found nothing but undisturbed cloth. He ripped his cloak off, his hands exploring the skin of his chest, but saw and felt nothing. His skin was as unmarred as it had been before the ritual.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned to the stacks of newspapers against the wall. Eying it suspiciously, he noticed they were now several feet shorter than they had been before. He walked briskly to the pile, snatching up the first paper.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Dead, Harry James Potter Declared The Boy-Who-Lived!" the headline screamed. Checking the date, which read November 2nd, 1981, his hands began to go numb and he felt the paper fall to the ground.
"By the gods.." he said under his breath, his hands shaking once more. He checked his pockets quickly, and after finding his wand, he stormed out of his rooms into the pub, which was mostly empty at this early hour save the three menacing looking goblins that were huddled in the back corner, heatedly in debate. A wiry young man with pale brown eyes and dirty brown hair sat behind the bar, scrambling to look busy as he noticed Aberforth emerging from his quarters.
"Good morning, Mr. Dumbledore," he said nervously, his hands wringing out a filthy rag.
"What is the date, Kravis?" he asked in a low tone, his piercing blue eyes surveying the room for the second time.
"The date, sir?" the young man stammered, his hands still wringing the rag anxiously.
"The date, Kravis," he snapped. "The thing that tells you the month, day, and year."
"R-right, of course, sir. It's the third of November, sir," he said, and gulped audibly when Aberforth growled.
"The year, Kravis!" he bellowed, and the nervous barkeep gave a start so large that he almost knocked a row of mugs from the counter.
"1981, sir. It's 1981."
"For the love of Merlin," Aberforth said under his breath, making his way to the doors of the pub.
"Are you... Are you alright, Mr. Dumbledore?" Kravis called out timidly, his voice barely reaching the older man as he left the pub.
"Just dandy, Kravis," he growled back sarcastically, slamming the door heavily as he exited.
The morning sun blinded him as he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Hogsmeade. Decorations were strung everywhere, all celebrating the death of Voldemort. Wizards and witches huddled in the streets, conversing excitedly amongst themselves. Aberforth had to push his way through the crowds, a scowl on his face and his hand clenched securely around his wand. He never did enjoy being around many people.
Reaching the Three Broomsticks, he opened the door to a much more crowded pub than his own, with most of its patrons already intoxicated. He narrowly avoided a large mug of Butterbeer that had fallen out of the hands of a particularly drunk Auror, and it took more than a little restraint for him not to send hexes at the incompetent man.
"Ah, Aberforth, you'll have to excuse Mr. Delaney here, it seems he took the celebration rather too seriously." Madam Rosmerta appeared from behind the bar, smiling at Aberforth and handing the drunken Auror an armful of rags. "Well, go on and clean it up, Mr. Delaney. We don't want anyone slipping and falling, hmm?" Aberforth scowled at the man, who was hastily mopping up his mess on the floor.
"Quite alright, Rosmerta. Not all of us can express self control," he said gruffly. She smiled and waved a hand towards the back rooms.
"I'm guessing you're not here just to visit my fine establishment, Aberforth. Come, we can discuss whatever is on your mind in the back," she said, smiling at the older man. Reaching the back room, she quickly cast a number of wards around the door, and motioned for Aberforth to sit in the cozy looking booth.
"Rosmerta, I need to know everything that you know about Harry Potter," he said, wasting no time in getting to the heart of the matter. The witch frowned slightly, confusion gracing her soft features.
"I'm sure it's nothing that you don't already know yourself, Aberforth. The poor boy lost his parents in the attack. Such a shame, James and Lily were quite lovely people, I'm still quite shocked that they're really gone," she said, pushing a lock of golden hair away from her face.
"Where is he now?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat. "It is of the upmost importance that I know, Rosmerta," he said gravely. She shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Aberforth's.
"I suspect he's been taken to live with family. I'm sure your brother would know much more than, I, Aberforth. Maybe you should pay him a visit," she suggested softly, knowing that topic was a dangerous one. Aberforth sighed audibly.
"I was hoping it would not have to come to that," he muttered, rising from the booth and wiping his hands on his robes. "Thank you for your time, Rosmerta. I always appreciate it."
She stood as well, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Of course, Aberforth, any time. Good luck with your brother." She gave him a small smile and patted his arm before taking the wards down and opening the door.
"I'm sure I will need it, Rosmerta," he said disdainfully.
His walk to Hogwarts was longer than he remembered, and his muscles were screaming in protest as he finally reached the castle. Standing in the entrance way, he took a deep breath, having to remind himself that the carnage he had witnessed the night before would not be present today. Making his way through the large doors, he followed the winding path to the stone gargoyle, his irritation blooming full force. He didn't know the password, and would be left to wait outside the office until his brother decided to open the passage.
"Albus," he growled. "I must speak with you. It's urgent," he said to the gargoyle, knowing that his brother would hear him on the other side. Within moments, the gargoyle had jumped aside, revealing a long spiraling staircase that led to the Headmaster's office. He grumbled. He had not expected Albus to be so prompt. He made his way up the staircase, his legs becoming harder and harder to move forward with each step. Finally, when he felt like his extremities had turned to lead, he reached the door to the office, not bothering to knock before opening it.
"Aberforth!" Dumbledore called out, delight threading his voice. "What a pleasant surprise," he said, popping a yellow sweet into his smiling mouth. Aberforth acknowledged him with a small grunt, taking a seat in the armchair in front of his brother's desk. "What has brought you here? Surely you aren't having trouble with the Hanley brothers again," he said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I was quite sure I had taken care of the matter after they set fire to the Norwegian tapestry you were so fond of." Aberforth shook his head harshly, scowling at his older brother.
"No, Albus, I have not had any more trouble with the Hanleys. I came to speak with you about Harry Potter," he said, his eyes hard and serious. Albus looked mildly shocked for a moment, but crafted his features into indifference quickly.
"This is about Harry, you say? How strange, Aberforth. I am most uncertain of what you would like to know about him," he said, and picked up the bowl of sweets sitting on his desk. "Lemon drop?" he asked casually, smiling at his brother once again, his twinkling blue eyes sharply contrasting the hard glint of his brother's.
"I think not, Albus. I need to know where you have taken the boy," he said in a hard voice. Albus immediately set the bowl back on top of the desk, his expression quickly becoming serious.
"I can think of no reason why you would need access to that information, Aberforth," he said sternly, his eyes losing their twinkle. "Not even most members of the Order are aware of his location. Surely you have no need of it yourself."
"Quite the opposite, Albus," Aberforth growled. "I cannot discuss specifics with you. I need to know where he is," he said in a harsh tone, but Albus merely shook his head, his eyes now as cold as his brother's.
"I'm afraid not. You have given me no valid reason to tell you, and it is very important that his location remains unknown to most. Now, if you would, I have matters to attend to," he said dismissively. Aberforth slammed his fist down onto the desk in fury, sending a triangular piece of metal flying off of it and clattering down to the ground. Albus sat mostly nonplussed at Aberforth's anger, watching his brother with wary blue eyes that seemed like they were addressing a toddler throwing a tantrum.
"Now is not the time for your games!" he bellowed, his deep voice booming off the sides of the office. "You ignored me once when I asked for your help, and you know the outcome that situation had," Aberforth hissed, fire burning in his blue eyes. "You will not ignore me a second time."
This seemed to shock the Headmaster, and Albus sat in silence for many moments deep in thought, his gaze never leaving his brother, who had turned quite red in the face and was breathing heavily. The ghost of a very old pain was apparent in the Headmaster's wrinkled features, and he nodded once, sharply.
"I will need you to submit to an Unbreakable Vow," he said flatly, conceding to his brother. "I will not have this information distributed to anyone else outside of this room. Is that clear, Aberforth?"
"Crystal," he said sharply, the redness beginning to drain from his face. Albus sighed, and turned to the phoenix that was perched next to his desk.
"Fawkes, could you retrieve Professor McGonagall?" he asked, and the bird trilled affirmatively before disappearing in a ball of flames. The two sat in strained silence waiting for the creature to return, Albus absently staring out of the window onto the grounds of the school while Aberforth paced anxiously around the room. Finally, after several minutes, a brisk knock sounded on the wooden door and Fawkes had appeared back on his perch in a ball of flames.
"Come in, Minerva," Albus called, and the door opened to reveal a stern looking witch, her hat perched crookedly atop her head.
"I came as fast as I could, Albus. Fawkes seemed rather urgent," she said primly, straightening her hat before turning a mildly surprised gaze to Aberforth. "It has been quite awhile, Aberforth. I trust things are well?"
"They surely have been better, Minerva," he said, crossing his arms against his chest. Facing his brother, he said sharply, "Can we get on with this now, Albus? I'm running short on time." Albus nodded, turning towards the older witch.
"Minerva, I need you to act as a Bonder for an Unbreakable Vow," he said, and McGonagall simply nodded.
"Of course, Albus. Have the terms been agreed to?" she asked, noting how displeased Aberforth seemed with the entire situation.
"The terms have not been set, but I would imagine that it will take little time. I will be informing my brother of Harry Potter's location, and I only ask that it not be repeated to anyone else," Albus said, giving his brother a pointed look. McGonagall frowned, but chose to keep the questions she had to herself.
"A piece of parchment and quill then, if you would, Albus." He handed her the paper, and she quickly scribbled out terms onto the paper before handing it to Aberforth.
"Are these conditions acceptable?" she asked, and the older wizard merely grunted in response. Taking his answer as a yes, she retrieved the parchment and handed it to Albus. "And are these conditions acceptable to you as well, Albus?" The Headmaster looked over the paper briefly, before nodding his head.
"They are acceptable, Minerva."
"Then let us begin."
The ritual didn't take long, and the ropes of light that bound the two wizards' hands together had barely dissipated before Aberforth was making his way towards the doors. Without bothering a goodbye, he exited, intent on finding Harry Potter and fixing the mess that his brother had surely created.