A/N: This chapter starts out right after Chapter 4 (Gone), in Kendra's POV, so before reading you might want to go back and read the last few paragraphs of Chapter 4. If you want to make my day and put a smile on my face (because smiles during this story seem very hard to come by), please, please review!

"Sometimes, even the best of us have to crawl into our mother's arms and cry our hearts out" - My mother


Chapter 6: Broken Angel

Gone. Just like that. Without another word the door slammed shut and Percival Dumbledore was gone.

Kendra stared at the door for what she thought was a very long time. She knew her husband, and she knew that when a crisis occurred he did rash and thoughtless things. She prayed that this would not be one of those times, but deep down she knew it already was. He was off to find those boys, she knew it. That's where he had gone, down to the village to hunt them like animals, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

All she could do was to wait for him to return.

But she could not wait in the kitchen, with her daughter drenched and asleep in her arms and her two sons staring at their surroundings as if they weren't exactly sure of anything that just happened. Kendra couldn't blame them.

She rose from her seat with as little movement as possible, hoisting Ariana into a more secure position as she did so. She walked over to the staircase, where Albus and Aberforth were still standing in the door frame from when they had rushed down the stairs. Everything around her seemed unfamiliar and out of place, almost like she was experiencing all of this in a house that was not her own. It was a strange feeling.

"Mum?" asked her youngest son in a small voice.

"What is it, Aberforth dear?" she whispered in reply, fearful of waking her daughter.

"Will Ariana be alright?"

This was the same question that she had been asking herself as well. She looked at her son. He looked so small and frightened.

"I—I don't know. I just don't know," she began in a hoarse voice. She pulled her daughter closer to her as she felt hot, fresh tears rise behind her eyes. But she wouldn't allow them to fall. She couldn't let her sons think she didn't have the situation under control. She didn't want them to afraid. She changed the subject, "Come on now you two, off to bed with you. It's been a long day."

She followed them up the stairs. She turned left when she reached the top of the staircase into the room she shared with her husband while her two sons turned right and continued on to the room that they shared with each other.

She laid Ariana's wet, sleeping form on the bed as she rummaged through a pile of freshly laundered clothing, looking for anything of Ariana's that she could change her into. She found a small white nightdress that she recognized as the one Ariana would wear to bed night after night, no matter how many times her mother begged her to allow her to wash it. Kendra had stolen it from her daughter's bedroom two days ago, and scrubbed it until it was as clean as she could hope for it to be under the circumstances.

As carefully as possible she peeled off layer after layer of soaked clothing off of her daughter's sleeping body and pulled the tiny nightdress over her head. Her hair was still dripping with water, but Kendra didn't dare attempt to dry it using magic. If she woke up or even caught a glimpse of her mother's wand through her sleepy gaze, she might get scared again, and Kendra didn't want to think about what might happen then. So instead she gathered together her daughter's long blonde mane, tucking away the stray locks of hair that had found themselves plastered across her face or shoulders, and lovingly braided it into one long plait than extended down her back. She had always admired her daughter's long, gorgeous hair, she thought to herself as she gently tamed the remaining wispy curls that surrounded Ariana's flawless, porcelain face like a golden halo.

Kendra thought her daughter looked like a broken angel that night, so small and helpless, and yet haunted by demons. Her face was so fair, her perfect button nose sprinkled with tiny freckles. Her small, delicate frame was rising and falling slowly to the rhythm of her peaceful breathing. But behind those long, golden eyelashes that rested like butterflies upon her face, Kendra knew that the angel had fallen. She had seen what those eyes, the eyes that had once carried the warmth and sunshine and colors of the heavens above, had become. With the twinkle behind them gone they had changed, changed from the color of a glorious sky to the color of a deep sea of mystery and uncertainty; she was lost in the changing winds of the ocean.

But she wouldn't allow herself to cry. She must be in control of her emotions. She could not lose herself; one lost soul was enough for today. One lost soul was enough for forever.

The door of the room slowly creaked open, and Kendra caught a glimpse of dazzling blue. Their eyes were everywhere. She could never escape them.

"Mum?"

It was Aberforth. He poked his head through the crack of the door. He looked so afraid.

"Yes, Aberforth, what's the matter, dear?" she whispered as she continued to stroke Ariana's hair, trying as hard as she could to contain her emotions.

"Can I sleep here with you tonight?" he asked her. He was whispering. He knew to stay quiet; he didn't want to wake his sister.

She looked at him, standing alone, framed in the doorway. He looked very small.

"Of course you can. Come sit right here next to Ariana," she motioned for him to join her on the bed. He scrambled over quickly and nestled himself under the sheets next to his sister.

They were silent for a few minutes while Kendra continued to caress her daughter, stroking her back and face and hair, praying that she would stay peacefully asleep, while Aberforth watched her.

"She looks pretty," Aberforth whispered to his mother from across his sister's sleeping body.

Kendra let herself smile; it was a sad sort of smile, "You're right. She does, doesn't she?"

Aberforth nodded and they were silent again.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Will Ariana be okay?"

Kendra paused before she answered. She sighed and shook her head slightly, "I don't know."

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Where's Dad?"

She paused again. She felt her tears creep to the surface again, "I don't know."

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

Kendra looked up her son. He was younger than she'd realized, he had always acted older than his age. But now when she looked at him she saw only a little eight year-old boy, frightened and lost, snuggled under the blankets of his mother's bed, eyes wide and fearful.

She stopped stroking Ariana's hair and reached her arm over to Aberforth's face, "I know, dear, I know. We must try to be brave, alright?"

Aberforth nodded again, "I'll try."

There was silence for another minute.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Are you scared too?"

She looked into his eyes; they were Percival's eyes, Ariana's eyes. It was a long time before she answered.

"Yes," she responded as she nodded solemnly. She felt a single tear fall down her face, "Yes I am."

Aberforth took her hand that was still resting on his face. He held it tight in his own and looked at her with a very serious expression on his face, "You must try to be brave."

She smiled as she wiped away her tears with her free hand, "I'll try, Aberforth. I'll try."

She let go of his hand and pulled the blankets higher so that they covered his and Ariana's shoulders. "It's late," she told him softly, "Go to sleep now. I'll be right here, the whole night."

His eyelids fluttered closed almost instantly. He was asleep before he could even whisper "goodnight". She wound her fingers through his auburn locks. He looked just like his sister, Kendra mused, but without the golden hair. He had the same nose, same freckles, same chin, same eyes. She had such beautiful children. All three of them had those eyes, those captivating eyes that she had fallen in love with. When Albus was born she had been so thrilled that he had his father's eyes. She loved those eyes, she did, but at the moment they were making her feel slightly nauseous.

The door creaked again, but it wasn't creaking open, it was creaking closed. Albus had been standing by the door, watching the scene from afar. She could tell by the look on his face that he had been there since Aberforth entered, that he had witnessed her answers to Aberforth's questions. Kendra took a deep breath, "Come over here, Albus," she sighed.

He walked across the room slowly and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. She wrapped him tenderly in her arms. He was getting so big, growing up so fast. He looked up at her, "I thought you and Dad never got scared," he said softy. It wasn't an accusatory tone, more of an expression of his misinterpretation.

"Everyone gets scared sometimes, Albus. It's not a bad thing. It's a part of life. It happens to everybody," she explained to him patiently.

"Even Gryffindors?" he asked her.

She nodded, "Everybody. Even Gryffindors," she said sincerely.

He nestled his head between her neck and her shoulder and for a while, they sat in each other's arms, Kendra holding tightly to her son, her tears threatening to fall at any moment.

Suddenly, a purple jet of light was seen streaking across the night sky through the bedroom window. Both heads turned, startled. There was another, blue this time, then another, purple again, then another, green. Kendra felt her heart drop to someplace in her lower abdomen, making her chest feel strangely empty, as if she wasn't getting enough air. She knew exactly whose wand those sparks were coming from.

She turned her head away, wanting to forget what she had just seen, but Albus, still wrapped in her arms, was watching with bated breath, his clear blue eyes wide, his mouth slightly open.

"Don't look at them, Albus," she said to him. She pulled him closer to her and he turned his head away from the scene as well. Instead he buried it into her shoulder. She closed her eyes and held his head in her hands, pressing him closer to her, letting him cry if he wanted to, rocking him slowly and rhythmically back and forth, like she used to do when he was a baby.

It was a few minutes before she realized that he was crying. She didn't try to get him to stop, she just let him cry. If she had been in his place, she would have started long before he had. But tonight, she had to be the strong one. Tonight, she was the shoulder to cry on. But every tear that fell from her son's clear blue eyes burned a hole through her heart and made her want to scream and weep and beg for a miracle that would stitch their family back together, a miracle that she knew would never come.

After a long time Albus stopped crying. At least she thought so; his body had stopped shaking and heaving with silent sobs. She thought he was asleep, but she couldn't be sure. She held onto him, just in case. She wasn't about to let him go anytime soon, she felt that she needed him as much as he needed her. She felt like she needed to stay right there, huddled together on her bed with her three beautiful, broken children, forever.

But, apparently, fate didn't think so.

She heard a sharp, quick knock on the front door from downstairs. Kendra started, nearly shaking Albus awake. Her nerves were on end tonight. The littlest of surprises were disconcerting her. That knock on the door, it was probably just Percival, she told herself, knocking because he hadn't brought his key with him. That was all. Nothing to worry about.

She carefully disentangled herself from Albus, and laid him down on the bed on the other side of Ariana, his eyes opening groggily through his sleep.

"Albus," she whispered as she pushed his hair out of his face, "there's someone at the door. I'll be back as soon as I can. Just make sure your sister doesn't wake up, alright?"

He nodded as he pressed his head into her pillow, his eyes closed. Kendra kissed his forehead before she walked over to the door and opened it. She crept soundlessly down the stairs, anticipation and apprehension growing higher and higher with every step she took as she approached the front door.

Her fingers closed around the doorknob, the cold metal making her palm sweat. She had a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't explain. It was twisting and squirming, as if deep down inside her she knew that something was desperately wrong. But nothing was wrong, she told herself again. She was being silly. It was just Percival. He was finally coming home. Everything was going to be alright. Everything was going to go back to normal.

If only that were true.

She opened the door. She had tricked herself into believing that it really would be Percival, that nothing could be wrong, that everything could go back to being exactly as it had been before. But the shocking sight of a man who was undeniably not her husband standing at her door had just confirmed her worst fears. It wasn't Percival. It was the very last person she wanted to see at the moment.

The man's name was Edward Montgomery. Percival had met him when he began working at the Ministry. He and her husband had been friends. Not the best of friends, mind you, but acquaintances, amiable towards each other. He had been over for dinner once or twice a couple of years ago, before Ariana had been born. But Edward Montgomery worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. At the sight of him, she swallowed her pointless prayers and wishes and felt her stomach drop to below her navel just thinking about the reason for his visit. It was well past midnight, and she felt as if she would be sick just standing there when she knew just what was about to come out of this man's mouth.

"Good evening, Mrs. Dumbledore."

She was feeling faint. Her hand was still clasped on the doorknob for support.

"Mr. Montgomery, are you aware that it is nearly one o'clock in the morning?" she asked him in a low voice, realizing as she did so that she was still in her dinner clothes, which were damp from holding Ariana. She was desperate to make any attempt to divert his attention, as well as her own, from the matter which they both knew he was here to discuss.

"Mrs. Dumbledore, I'm here to speak with you about your husband."

Kendra closed her eyes and turned her head away, biting her lip, her hand still holding fast to the doorknob. She hated the way he was speaking to her, as if she was just another person he had to relay pointless information to, and not as if he had known her for years and he was about to tell her something that would forever change her life. She felt the tears creeping up behind her eyes again. But she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. She had to stay strong for her children, for her family.

"Do you mind if I come inside?" he asked her.

She looked around the hall as if lost. Her eyes found the stairs. Ariana was asleep up there. If anything woke her, Kendra didn't know what she would do.

"Mrs. Dumbledore?" he asked concernedly. She must have been silent for too long.

She looked up at him, shaking herself out of her stupor.

"Do you mind if I speak to you inside? Maybe you would like to sit down?"

She leaned heavily on the doorknob, making the door swing slightly, but she caught herself just before falling, "No…No, we can't speak inside. My—My children, they're asleep…they're asleep upstairs. I—I don't want to wake them."

Mr. Montgomery nodded, "I understand," he whispered. "But if you would prefer not to speak inside, I must insist that I speak to you outside. It is of the utmost importance."

She nodded in reply, a grimace sneaking its way across her face. She felt like she was walking to her death as she stepped outside and closed the front door behind her.

"Mrs. Dumbledore, I regret to inform you that your husband has been taken to Azkaban."

Kendra felt her heart stop. It didn't drop to her stomach, or rise to her throat, or feel unnaturally large, or start beating at twice its normal rate, it just stopped. She felt as if she had just fallen off a cliff, perpetually falling, falling, falling, never hitting the ground.

"You see," he continued, apparently interpreting her silence as confusion, "We found him down in the village, torturing three Muggle boys in an alleyway."

She didn't say a word. Shock and nausea swept her body. All she wanted was for him to stop talking.

"He was using the Cruciatus Curse on them. We had to take him, Mrs. Dumbledore, we had to. It was a major violation of the Statute of Secrecy, performing spells, especially an Unforgivable, on Muggles, in an area that was simply swarming with them. We had to take him."

She still didn't say anything. Her husband was in Azkaban. She was alone, alone with young three children, one going off to Hogwarts in a month, one traumatized and unstable. And Percival…he was in Azkaban. Azkaban. It was such an ugly sounding word. It made her think of terrible things, like darkness and ice and unforgiving smiles. She really thought she might faint now, she was feeling dizzy. Either that or she was about vomit all over the porch.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. She held her tears back and held herself upright. She would not lose her composure. She wouldn't. Absolutely not.

She felt him as he approached her. She knew that he was going to pretend to comfort her now. He was going to pretend to care. She wouldn't allow herself to be tricked again, not by him, not by anyone, not even by herself. She opened her eyes to see him very close to her, a look of pity in his eyes. She didn't need his pity. She wasn't going to cry.

She took a deep breath, "Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. You may leave now."

She felt her tears rise to the surface again, threatening to fall, fall, fall, and never stop falling.

"Mrs. Dumbledore, I—"

"Please just go."

He didn't move.

"Go! Please go! Go, go, go! Please," she begged him, "just go."

And with one more fleeting look into her eyes, he left. He left her standing on her front porch, alone, with three children asleep upstairs, a husband in Azkaban, and tears dangling precariously from the corners of her eyes. Things just kept getting worse and worse.

Her shaking hand opened the door and she entered the hall. There was a mirror on the wall to her left, it was dingy and dirty, but it was a mirror all the same. It had belonged to Percival's uncle or great-uncle or uncle's great-uncle, something like that. She wasn't exactly sure what it did, it might have been just a regular mirror. But they kept it in the house, just the same. It hung over a table where Kendra placed pictures of her children and family, to impress the visitors when they walked in.

She had never really taken all that much notice of the mirror before today. But as she walked past she noticed that the woman in the mirror was not somebody she recognized. It was her. Or was it? She didn't remember ever looking like that, with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and premature wrinkles covering her face. She looked like someone much older, someone who had been through so much more than any woman her age should ever experience. But it had been a long day. Tomorrow would be better. That's all she could deceive herself into thinking.

Her gaze shifted from the stranger in the mirror to the photographs that lined the table. There was one of the five of them standing outside of the house, they had just moved in. She was holding Ariana and Percival was standing next to her, a beaming smile on his face, his eyes alight and twinkling even through the aged black and white picture, Albus and Aberforth arm in arm, their eyes twinkling the exact same way. Next to that one, there was another, this one of only Percival and Ariana, two years ago on her birthday fifth birthday. Their eyes were precisely the same color, the same cloudless heaven shade of blue. She had her arms thrown around his neck and both were smiling. When would be the next time she would see those smiles? She didn't know. That scared her. It scared her more than anything else in the world.

When would she see her husband again, and see those eyes twinkle again like they used to? When would she see her daughter's face light up like before, with her eyes glittering in the light of her smile? She didn't know. She just didn't know.

She made her way over to the kitchen table, legs unsteady and hands grasping anything they could reach to get her there safely. She collapsed into a chair at the table, grateful for its sturdiness. She put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her world was steadily falling apart.

And with her eyes covered by her palms she began to cry. She cried and she cried and she cried. Her hot, wet tears mixing with the sweat of her palms. It was too much to cope with. She couldn't stay strong forever. She couldn't go on like this. So she kept crying. She cried well into the night, for hours, until she could see the light creeping across the kitchen from the sun rising over the hill. She cried for her daughter and her husband and her sons, for those blue eyes that she both loved and hated, for broken families and broken angels, she cried for it all. She cried until she couldn't even remember what she was crying for. And then, as the first sliver of a blood red sun rose to greet the village, she drifted off to sleep, her head resting atop the wooden table littered with her own tears.