- June 1899 -

The streets of London were dark. It was after eight but it was late June. The skies at Hogwarts were blue well past nine at this time of year. They crossed a side street and Albus stopped. At the end of the street, caught between the shops and apartments on either side, the sun sat as if it were a ball in the road. It was dim and red and the light that usually burst from it in all directions had faded so it appeared as a perfect circle, angry but tired, disappointed in the haze that dragged it, heavy, to the ground. It was mesmerizing. A motor car honked and Elphias ushered him along. Albus looked back as the car passed through the intersection. Smoke shot from its tail pipe and drifted up and melded into the grey, acrid, haze that gathered low in the air above the roof tops. At the top of the street a factory stood and smoke billowed from its stacks. It poured across the sky and reached the smoke spilling from the stacks on a factory that stood on the next street over, and then the factory that stood in the distance. The city was trapped beneath its blanket, in the filth and the dark. It was a stark difference to the clear, blue sky over Hogwarts. Albus' skin tightened across his face as the smoke caked into his pores and locked them in place. He couldn't wait until they had travel papers and could break free of London.

They weaved through the busy cobble stoned sidewalks of central London. Bicycles stacked with parcels zoomed past. A young boy shouted the evening headlines beside a stack of newspapers that were as tall as him. "628 not out! Highest scoring cricket match in history!" A trolly car stopped beside a small crowd and Albus was swept sideways as a dozen people stepped off. The trolly car pulled away once the waiting crowd had loaded. A man bumped into Albus as he ran after the trolly, waving his arms. The trolly stopped again and a motor car behind it began to honk.

"This place is a zoo," Albus said.

A small light pierced dimly through the haze up a head. A second light appeared beside the first. And then a third. The lights flickered and the black iron lamp posts that held the small flames pushed through the thick smog. A fourth light appeared in the row and slowly, the street before them was illuminated, one lamp at a time.

They turned off the main street and walked towards what looked at first to be an empty lot. An unlight streetlamp stood in front of the lot. As they walked past the lamp, the flame inside the glass case ignited and a small pub with crooked walls appeared on the lot as if it to had simply been obstructed by the smog. A wooden sign hung above the door – The Leaky Cauldron.

The inside of the pub was darker than the street outside. Candles were scattered around the room, on tables and wall sconces but the fireplace was unlight and the dark wooden floorboards and wall paneling soaked up the small flickering light. The ceiling beams were low. There was enough clearance that he didn't need to duck under them but Albus caught himself doing so anyways as they walked to the bar.

"What'll it be boys?" the barkeep asked. He was short, about the height of the counter itself and his teeth were too big for him mouth.

"We have a room booked. Under Dumbledore."

"Right, one moment."

The barkeep disappeared to the back room and Albus looked around the small pub. It was quiet so he was surprised to see most of the tables occupied. Many patrons sat on their own reading. Two wizards sat at the table by the dark fireplace playing chess. The black knight captured the white bishop and the tinker of the small wooden piece as it splintered on the board echoed across the pub.

The barkeeper returned with a key and led them through to the backroom that was taken up by a large dinning table stretched almost wall to wall. A couple wizards sat on opposite ends of the table silently sipping bowls of soup. "The kitchen's open for another hour. Beef stew tonight. Just have a seat and the staff will sort you out." They walked the length of the table to a wooden staircase on the far end of the room. The steps creaked before Albus even set his foot down and the rise and run were uneven causing both of them to trip several times each.

"Best not celebrate too much tonight," Elphias said. "We may not make it back to the room."

"I'm more concerned about going down."

Their room was small consisting of a wardrobe near the door and two twin beds on the far wall that flanked a small, shared bedside table. A lantern, a water pitcher, and a wash basin sat on the table below a tall, crooked window that looked out onto an uninspired grey stone wall. The wallpaper was striped in thick alternating blocks of beige and slightly darker beige.

"Hand your key in at the bar when you go out so we can send housekeeping round. Enjoy your stay." The barkeeper handed Albus the key and returned downstairs.

Albus shut the door and set his bag on the bed. A small cloud of grey specs jumped into the air around it.

"Dusty" Elphias said.

"If that's our biggest complaint we'll be lucky."

"This is what the next year is going to be like, isn't it?"

Albus nodded. A wide smile spread across his face. Their funds were tight but he wanted to see as much of the world as possible so dusty lodging with age stained wallpaper was well worth it.

Albus poured the water from the pitcher into the wash basin. A small card sat under the pitcher - For washing. Do not drink.

He splashed the water over his face and scrubbed at his skin with his hands. The water in the basin muddied until he could no long see the bottom. He wiggled his nose and scrunched his brows until he was satisfied with his range of motion and then tossed the smoggy water out the window.

They went back downstairs for dinner. The potatoes in the stew were overcooked and it desperately needed salt but it was edible and filling. Albus had expected far worse. They washed it down with several pints and spent the evening in the pub. They retained enough sobriety to not break any ankles on the stairs back to their room but drank enough to fall asleep easily on the lumpy beds.

An insistent pecking on the window woke Albus the next morning. An owl with heavily lidded eyes and matted feathers sat on the windowsill with a note in its beak. Albus opened the window and took the note. The owl flopped off the ledge. Albus stuck his head out the window half expecting to see the bird laying dead on the ground below but there was only trash and weeds. In the distance, a great clock tower chimed. He opened the note - 7AM wake up call curtesy of the Leaky Cauldron. Walter will be happy to take your breakfast order.

Albus shut the window and tossed the note at Elphias. "I guess we'll get breakfast on the way."

"What?" Elphias sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was as matted as Walter's feathers.

Albus shook his head. "Nothing. Hurry up. Our appointment's at eight."

They dressed in their best clothes, tweed trousers, their school dress shirts, and waist coats and splashed water over faces and combed their hair. They exchanged a couple galleons for shillings at the pub and took the trolly south to the river. The streets were busy with the morning rush of muggles on their way to work by foot, bicycle, trolly, carriage, or motor car. They got off at the London Docks and walked through the maze of men rolling barrels and hauling sacks in and out of riverside storehouses. The streets were narrow and unmarked. The buildings were a collage of brick, and stone, and wood and leaned against one another threatening to collapse if a runaway barrel rolled into a wall. The crooked shops in Diagon Alley were held up by magic. The structural insights of the storehouses were a mystery and one Albus did not intend to unravel. Wooden planks laid across the mucky ground as a makeshift sidewalk. The boards wobbled and bowed under his feet. A rat scurried from between the boards beneath him and ran towards the train tracks that emerged from the tunnel up ahead. They stepped off the planks and followed the rat, their nicest shoes squishing into the ground with each step. There would be more to wash off than just smog today. A small building stood beside the tunnel entrance and the rat disappeared into a small crack in the foundation. The windows were boarded up and the door was secured with a rusty padlock. A red, cylindrical Royal Mail post box stood beside the door. The paint was chipped and it smelled strongly of sour urine. The ground shook beneath Albus' feet and hot air rushed from the tunnel followed by the rattle of a train as it ascended from below the river and into the city.

"Of all places, why here?"

"Keep the muggles from milling about," Elphias said with a shrug as he watched the train pass. "It is quite ingenious of the muggles."

Albus shook his head and fished a piece of paper from his pocket - Ministry of Magic. State Department. Appointment: June 26th, 1899 – 8AM.

Albus slipped the piece of paper into the post box. The padlock on the latch clicked open and the post box spit the appointment slip back out.

"Come on," Albus said. "Let's follow the rat, like the vermin we wizards apparently are."

They stepped inside the building. It was small lobby of sorts, bright and clean with white marble floors. A house elf stood from his stool in the corner and scurried towards them with a rag and brush.

"Polish your shoes, sirs?" the elf asked, though he bent down and started wiping away the mud on Albus's left shoe before they could reply.

Albus looked around as the elf shuffled between his ankles and then started on Elphias' shoes. From the inside of the building, the windows weren't boarded up but looked out onto the tracks and the busy London docks. A small plaque stood below the windows commemorating the completion of the pedestrian tunnel in 1843 as the first tunnel successfully constructed by muggles under a navigable river before being converted for use by the rail line in 1869.

"They forgot to mention the reason for conversion," Albus said. "It was quickly overrun with prostitutes and thieves."

"The train's more useful to them these days though," Elphias said.

"All done, sirs," the elf squeaked as he backed away towards the lift and pressed the call button.

Albus stepped forward, the crisp clack of his shoes against the marble echoed through the small lobby. Albus tapped his toe and turned to the elf who had climbed back onto his stool. "Excellent work."

The lift rattled up. Another house elf pushed open the metal gate from inside and ushered them in. The elf pulled the gate closed the lift lurched downwards. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, northern visitor's entrance. Please check in at the front desk," the elf greeted.

"Thank-you," Albus said as they stepped out in the atrium. The atrium was just as busy as the London street above. A large desk stood in front of them with a large sign that read visitor check in. Behind the desk stood a tall golden statue of a wizard whose wand pointed to the sky and shot water from the tip. Surrounding the fountain, towers of glass windows encased various ministry offices. A vibrant green glow emanated from the hall of fireplaces across the atrium. Witches and wizards spilled from the hearths and around the fountain to the lift banks on either side. Their shoes clacked on the black marble floor and their voices hummed through the grand hall. It was a wonder and all tucked neatly out of site, below the London streets with the rats and the sewer line.

They left the ministry an hour later with their new travel documents and made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron and then through the passageway in its back courtyard to Diagon Alley. They had an early lunch and picked up some supplies for their trip – garlic to ward off vampires, owl treats so they could send letters home, journals so they could record the trip. By late afternoon, they once again returned to the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was quiet and empty apart from the men playing chess in front of the empty hearth. They were the same men from the previous evening and Albus thought they had been there that morning as well as if they had never left.

"Mr. Dumbledore," the barman called.

"Yes?" Albus answered. He was expecting to give a drink order and make courteous small talk regarding their activities of the day while waiting for the man to pour it. Instead, a furious flutter of wings and feathers and large round eyes rushed him. "Archie?" he blurted.

The owl hooted and landed on his shoulder despite having outgrown the perch years ago. It pecked at him, not hard enough to hurt but insistently enough to demand attention.

"Okay, okay," Albus said, reaching for the parchment rolled up and tied to his talon.

"He arrived twenty minutes ago," the barman said. "Wouldn't wait by your room. Hopped up on the bar and followed me persistently. I reckon it's urgent."

Albus looked up at him and frowned. Elphias stepped closer behind him. He untied the parchment and un-scrolled it. The message was short, blotted with several ink smudges and written in Aberforth's untidy scribbles.

Albus,
There's been an accident. Mum's died. I don't know what happened. Ariana's been taken to St. Mungo's. You must meet us there.
-Aberforth

Albus re-read the second sentence over and over. Neither the words nor their meaning changed. Elphias took the parchment from his hand. Albus stared blankly at the floor. His mother was dead. He knew what had happened. Aberforth knew as well. The note either indicated denial or discretion. He had to get to St. Mungo's. He had to get her out and take her home.

"Merlin's beard," Elphias said. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Discretion. "I have to go."

"Of course." Elphias turned to the barman. "What's the best way to get to St. Mungo's?"

"If it's urgent, I would suggest the floo network." He nodded towards the unlit fireplace. "There's powder in the urn on the mantle. One sickle per handful."

"Archie." Elphias clicked at the owl and held out his arm.

Th owl took its new perch and Albus walked around the table where the men were playing chess and placed a sickle on the base plate of the urn. The lid popped open and he scooped up a handful of the green powder. He tossed the powder into the fireplace and bright green flames filled the hearth. He stepped inside and looked back at Elphias. The flames flickered around him, obstructing his view. His trip around the world, his future, were merely steps away. His travel papers were tucked into the inside chest pocket on his jacket. The black bishop captured the white queen, "check."

Albus closed his eyes. "St. Mungo's." The fire deepened in colour and grew warmer. It whipped around him as if disturbed by a gust of wind. His feet left the ground and his world went up in emerald flame.