Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hogwarts universe, I earn nothing. I am just playing - with a loving heart and neverending joy.
Chapter 33
It was quiet in Hogsmeade, far too quiet.
Suspiciously quiet.
As if everyone had agreed to ignore the tangible tension in the air, the few people who were walking in the street passed each other with frozen polite smiles on their faces, trying to attract as little attention as possible.
The barman of the Hog's Head Inn had seen a lot in the past few weeks and it didn't take much to realize that the thunderstorm that was raging over Hogwarts would soon hit them as well with a big bang.
Suddenly, he frowned and put aside his butterbeer, with which he had treated himself as the pub was almost empty. What he had just heard had sounded less like a big bang.
More like a soft rumble.
Life in a pub was never a very silent one, but Aberforth Dumbledore knew immediately that this was not a sound like any other he was used to hear in this house.
It wasn't a barrel that happily started its own business rolling around on the floor because that idiotic quarter-troll who worked for his supplier had stacked the barrels in complete deny of any law of physics, magical or not. And nobody was missing from the guest room, so nobody could have mistaken the basement entrance for the toilet door. The three drunkards, who had celebrated here today extensively for having nothing to do with the battle raging at Hogwarts, were lying more or less asleep next to their full glasses of butterbeer.
However, someone was in the basement, rummaging around in front of the entrance to the secret entrance to the castle. As casually as possible, Aberforth stood up, went to the stairs, and walked down, while avoiding any noise with astonishing effectiveness. Nobody in the pub took any notice of his disappearing.
On his way, he inevitably remembered the last meeting with his brother, who had surprisingly visited him late at night just two days before his death. Aberforth just had closed the Inn and Albus' sudden appearance almost frightened him to death.
On the second look, he was even more horrified.
Albus had aged significally, he was obviously sick and weakened.
One thing was immediately clear to Aberforth: he was facing a dying man. That realization was probably the only reason why they didn't immediately get into an argument when Albus began to speak in an unusually hasty manner.
"I know that you don't want to forgive me, Aberforth," he had said, "and I know that you will never agree with what I'm fighting for. We see the world with different eyes. Even if you don't believe me, I do know how high the price is that I have asked everyone around me to pay. I have not excluded myself, I have paid it too.
I have never been a good brother to you, I have never been a good brother to Ariana.
I know that and I will have to take that guilt with me, when I will go, Aberforth.
And still,... well,... anyway ... "
Aberforth had never seen his brother running out of words before. Almost pleadingly, the great Albus Dumbledore had looked at him as if he was still hoping for a miracle. Hoping, that his brother would suddenly open his arms wide and tell him that everything he had done to Ariana and him because of his twisted obsession for that bastard Grindelwald, would be forgiven and forgotten.
But that wouldn't happen.
With his jaws clenched, Aberforth had waited in silence to see what it was this time that Albus wanted to achieve. They had just known each other for too long. He knew the buttons his brother had pressed so brilliantly all his life.
And then Albus found his way back into the world of the speaking with unusual clarity.
"Still, I would ask you one more thing, Aberforth. There is another guilt that I took upon my shoulders." The older brother looked questioningly at the younger one.
"You know him from his school days, I think. His name is Severus, Severus Snape."
The corners of Aberforth's mouth curled in disaproval.
"That joyful Death Eater who picks up after you like a shadow? I saw that boy's life going down over the years after your damned Hogwarts laid its hands on it."
Albus nodded thoughtfully.
"For once we agree, even if I do not consider myself responsible for all decisions Severus has made in his life."
"Not for all decisions, huh? What did you do to him?"
Diplomacy had never played a lead role in Aberforth's character, and neither did patience. Albus smiled. "I've always appreciated your directness, little brother. And you're right, I don't have much time left.
Severus ... he is obliged to me in a certain way and he will do a job for me that will completely expel him from our wizard society. He has his own motives, why he is picking up after me, as you put it so clearly and I only ask you for one thing."
His gaze intensified and even Aberforth could barely resist to the overwhelming authority that Albus showed at such moments.
"No matter what it looks like, no matter what he will be accused of - believe in him and in the fact that I made him do it against his will. He is a brave young man whose heart had played a painful trick on him."
Albus sighed and closed his eyes briefly to control the burning pain in his hand and arm.
"I don't need to fool you, my days are numbered. I don't think Severus has any intention to survive the upcoming war, but if so, should we prevail and then judge over the followers of the dark side, please, Aberforth, you should be the one not to condemn him. Even if it is for the only reason that it was me who is responsible for his actions. "
Aberforth had stared at Albus in a mixture of anger and horror at the helplessness in the face of his brother's near death, and his fear of what this would mean for them all, what was to come had made his words sound more violent than he had actually wanted.
"Another one of your lambs for the Greater Good, Albus? What have you gotten him into so that you can make him jump off the cliff at the right time?"
He waved his hand in resignation.
"Just leave me out of it. Spare me your feelings of guilt and any form of good, whether greater, smaller, pink or yellow. I would certainly never be the shoulder, a Severus Snape would chose to cry on, so it doesn't matter what I believe - he won't care. I cannot serve you with this absolution, brother. Whatever you did to him, that will stay with him."
He added more quietly to himself: "Have you still not understood that way a soul works?"
The brothers had looked at each other for a long time and they both recognized in each other's eyes the affection that had made it so difficult for them to simply avoid each other.
And then Albus had died. Killed by the hand of Severus Snape.
'No matter what it looks like' - the phrase had been booming in Aberforth's head for days and the biggest part of his monthly firewhiskey delivery went through his own throat.
But he had been right - no crying Severus Snape turned up at his place.
On the contrary.
The next time, Aberforth saw the gloomy face of the black-haired man was on the front page of the Daily Prophet, telling the world that he of all people would now take Albus' place at Hogwarts.
And being the one who knew Albus best, Aberforth Dumbledore finally understood what part his brother had forced that man to play in this war. He snorted in disbelief as he opened a new bottle.
How had Albus convinced this man to do such a suicide mission? Apparently, Snape really didn't care about this world anymore, in which he was now met either with fear or contempt from all sides.
He would never know that on that day Aberforth Dumbledore brought a lonely toast from behind his counter. "Cheers, my boy. Congratulations. That's the jackpot in this lottery of crap."
All this flashed through Aberforth's mind on the way to the basement and he suspected with inexplicable certainty that the noises had something to do with that story.
His suspicion was confirmed when he spotted the long outstretched figure of Severus Snape, lying down on the floor, in the pale light of the room. At his feet a house-elf was standing and wringing her hands with eyes widened by panic.
Most astonishing, however, was the young woman who bent over him, obviously trying to treat the serious injuries that Snape had all over his body. A pool of blood had already gathered around his upper body and Aberforth had seen enough fights in his life to know immediately that there was nothing left to save.
Too much blood.
Way too much blood.
He stopped in the shadow on the last step and watched the drama with increasing confusion.
Only now did he recognize the woman, she was a friend of the Potter boy and had this strange name, Hermione, that's right, her name was Hermione. What did she have to do with Snape - and most importantly, why was she of all people trying to save him of all people?
Trying to save him with remarkable skills, he realized. Unlike his brother, Aberforth had never been gifted with more than average magical abilities, but of course he could recognize powerful magic when he encountered it. And that girl there had a hell of a magical aura, pouring out of every pore.
Still - he involuntarily shook his head. That no longer made any sense. The wounds did not close properly, life pulsed further and further out of Snape's apparently unconscious body and Hermione's spells took on a desperate tone.
Besides, the wand didn't seem to obey her properly either.
At the same moment that he thought this, she threw it against the opposite wall with a scream of rage.
She searched the sleeves of Snape's cloak in a hurry, pulled out his wand, and proceeded to put healing spells on Snape's body that he had never heard before and that certainly were not part of Hogwarts' usual lessons. To Aberforth's astonishment, the wand did not resist to her, on the contrary, it followed her magic much better than the other.
What a tragedy, thought Aberforth as he watched the ongoing excessive blood loss. All in vain. Who or what the hell had Snape messed up like that?
Hermione also saw the futility of her efforts and she lowered her wand in disbelief. Kneeling next to his body, she looked desperately at the injured man and Aberforth couldn't believe his eyes when she suddenly sobbed, hugged the lifeless man and let her head sink onto his chest.
This problem with his eyes suddenly was accompanied with the problem that he could not believe his ears either.
"Severus" cried the young woman, who was now stained from top to bottom with the dying man's blood. "Not like that, Severus. You can't do that." She straightened up again and took his face in both hands. The feelings in her voice were obvious to the observer of the scene. "Don't leave me alone with this world, you bloody bastard. Stay, please, don't let it happen."
The tears ran down her face and Aberforth prepared himself to somehow stand by her side in a few moments to face the bitter reality, even if he hadn't the faintest idea what was going on. Just as he was about to start moving again, the young woman straightened up in such a surprisingly vigorous movement that even the house-elf jumped high into the air in shock, which under other circumstances would have been extremely funny to watch.