- July 1899 –

Albus, Aberforth, and Ariana sat at the circular kitchen table and ate dinner. Albus had attempted a stew of some sort earlier in the week and they were still making their way through it. It was rather unfortunate. Aberforth had exhausted all his criticism the first two nights so they ate without speaking, the unrhythmic clink of metals spoons against porcelain bowls was the only sound keeping them from silence.

An owl swooped through the open window over the sink and landed on the center of the table. It was the same owl Elphias had sent before. Albus untied the letter and read it out loud.

Albus,

Sorry for the delay. I was detained, literally. You won't believe the events that have transpired.

As I was coming down from the mountains, I passed through a remote muggle village where several children had gone missing. They blamed the strigoi, the native vampires. They attacked me and accused me of being the strigoi because I was an outsider. They locked me in a cellar with another man. Before I could say hello, the man walked up to me and swiped the blood from a gash on my brow with his finger and licked it off. 'Wizard,' he said. I asked him how he knew. He said he was a connoisseur of sorts and that muggle blood and wizard blood taste different. I got a better look at him then. His skin was so pale it was translucent, almost ghostly. He was the vampire.

He said if I helped him get out he wouldn't drink my blood. There was garlic bulb hanging from the ceiling that prevented him from using his powers. Now at this point I realized I could escape alone and leave him there, but he assured me he was innocent. There was a river near by that was quite fierce this time of year as the snow melted up in the mountains and that the children had drowned. I believed him. Maybe it was foolish. He has yet to drink my blood though. I apparated us out of the cellar and he took me back to his cottage. It's very dark and full of bats. Sometimes he turns into one and I can't find him amongst the others.

He has been teaching me about old blood magic. It's fascinating. Did you know you can neutralize a draught of the living death potion, nullifying it, with a couple vials of blood? Blood holds a person's life force so it can counteract a death force.

Anyways, I hope you are well.

– Elphias

"Did you know that?" Aberforth asked as if already knew the answer. "About the blood."

"No," Albus said, his jaw stiff to keep his tone as neutral as possible. "I didn't." Aberforth smirked. Albus picked up his empty bowl and took it to the sink. "I don't know that I would trust a vampire. You're on washup duty. You'll need to get water from the well. I'm going to the pub."

Albus walked down the road to the village center. Dust flaked off the dry ground beneath his feet like greyed skin on a corps. There was no moisture left to glue it to the earth. It blew away at the slightest disturbance. The cloud tickled his throat. He needed a drink.

The pub was the only business still open after seven. Noise drifted out into the quiet street, men talked and laughed and exchanged friendly insults. It sounded not unlike the Gryffindor common room on a Friday night.

Albus walked in and one by one, the patrons turned towards the door and went quiet. He had become used to it at this point and walked through their stares to the bar. The barmaid looked at him with eyes set too close together before she turned her back and walked away. Eyes bored into his back. His fist clenched. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to give the village the satisfaction of chasing him away and he didn't want to go home and go back to staring at his four bedroom walls.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped. "Here lad," the man said. He reached over the bar for a glass and poured him a lagger from the tap. "There's a seat in back." The man was wearing a black apron around his hips, the owner maybe. Albus nodded in thanks, placed a couple shillings on the bar, and took the pint to the booth in the back corner. It was next to the loos. He slid into the booth and looked back out at the pub. It was small. The bar ran along the back wall and four stools stood in front of it. Three of them were occupied. A large fireplace stood on the opposite wall. It wasn't lit, presumably due to the heat. Two large tables sat under the windows on either side of the door, both crowded by men playing cards. There were three small tables meant for two in the middle of the pub, each occupied, and another small table beside his which sat empty. Wooden pillars stood near the four corners of the room and weaved into the dark wooden beams that were suspended low below the roof making the pub feel cozy or cramped, company dependant. Two by two the eyes turned away from him like dominos. He sipped his pint. It was light and cool. He leaned back and pulled Elphias' letter from his pocket. He was shocked at the trouble Elphias had gotten into and even more so that he'd managed to get out unscathed and possibly in a better position for it. They had never learned about blood magic in school. He was fascinated.

The door creaked open and Gellert walked in. Albus hadn't seen him in a few days. It felt longer. The top two buttons on his shirt were undone and it hung loose on his chest. Gellert spotted him and walked across the pub. He slid into the booth beside him and flung his arm along the top of the back rest. There was still enough space between them for it not to appear improper. The hairs still stood up on the back of Albus' neck though in reaction to the presence of Gellert's hand inches away. Afraid of it – prey within the predator's snatch? Drawn to it – impropriety be dammed? Both? Albus took a gulp of his pint.

"That any good?"

Albus offered him the glass and Gellert took a gulp of his own. He swished it in his mouth. "Alright. Bit weak." He raised his hand to signal the barmaid and took the letter from his hand. "What are you reading?"

"She's not going to serve you."

"What? Is this from your girlfriend?"

"She won't come near me. And no. It's from my friend traveling in Romania."

"Not a very good friend to go traveling without you." He pointed at the letter. "Vampires? Mixing with creatures of dark magic? You are full of surprises, Albus Dumbledore."

Albus rolled his eyes to cover his need to look away from the intense blue stare of Gellert's. "I'm not mixing with anyone. I'm stuck here. Unless you count yourself."

"Do you?"

"Should I?"

"You going to let someone else tell you what you should and shouldn't do?"

Albus laughed and shook his head. "You don't stop, do you?"

"Just wait until I get a few drinks in me." He looked over to the bar. "She really isn't coming over, is she? I should show this place some dark magic. Imperio her to bring me a beer."

"And a refill while she's at it."

Gellert reached into his pocket. Albus watched wide eyed, suddenly worried he wasn't joking and was about to take out his wand. Instead, he pulled out a flask. "Watery beer is not worth a trip to Azkaban. I'll save my sentence for something else." He took a swig and passed it to Albus.

Albus obliged. It was whiskey. It burned the back of his throat. He tipped back another. He leaned towards Gellert and pointed to the part of the letter regarding blood magic. "Did you know this? Did they teach blood magic at Durmstrang?"

"A bit. I'm more interested in this," Gellert took hold of his hand and moved his finger so it pointed to the vampire's assertion that muggle blood and wizard blood taste different. He took the flask back and took a drink. "That proves there's a real difference. That means you dilute magical blood if you mix it with muggle blood."

Albus laughed. "That's not how reproduction works. You don't mix blood." Gellert laughed. Albus was glad of it. His mother was muggle born. He had never been wary of his lineage before but now decided it best to steer the conversation away from blood status. Blood purity was a red flag. Albus saw it and chose to drown it in whiskey and their well project. "So. I've thought about our water buckets. It should be easy. We turn the buckets into vanishing cabinets of sorts and drop one into the well. That bucket will always have water in it and then we just activate the cabinet, and the water will transfer to the bucket in the house."

"Clever. I was going to turn the buckets into a portkey but the water would probably fly out."

Albus laughed. "Yeah, that would be a disaster. Even if the water stayed in you'd would end up with the actual well bucket so the outside would wet too."

"Yeah, vanishing cabinet is better. You ever make one?"

"Nope." Albus smiled. "It's mechanically triggered too so Ariana and Aberforth could use it. Once it's set up, it doesn't require magic."

Gellert hummed in response and took a slow sip of his whisky.

"What?" Albus asked.

"Nothing."

The small pub grew smaller as they drank, the dark wood beams lowered, and the rest of the room disappeared behind a foggy veil. They drifted closer. Albus slid up Gellert's arm so it extended along the back of seat past him. He could smell Gellert now, over the decades of sloshed beer that had seeped into the wooden table and wooden floor. He smelled of the whisky in his flask, licorice, and the sweet raspberries that grew in Mrs. Bagshot's garden.

The barmaid passed their table on the way to the backroom. "Hey, how about some service," Gellert drunkenly shouted at her.

"It looks like you've already had enough," she said back.

"The wench speaks," Gellert proclaimed. "What else can its mouth do?"

Chairs legs scraped across the floorboards and the veil lifted. Several of the men stood from their seats. "Alright, you boys need to leave," said the man who had poured Albus the pint.

Albus shuffled out of the booth and pulled Gellert along after him. "Sorry," he said to the man. He had been kind and Albus had drunk that goodwill away.

"What kind of pub refuses to serve paying customers?" Gellert shouted as Albus ushered him outside.

The door to the pub slammed shut behind them and Albus stepped quickly into the street. It was quiet, apart from Gellert's drunken mutterings. He sighed in relief that they hadn't been followed out. It was still warm but the sky was dark. A star appeared, small and white. It grew brighter as Albus stared up at it. Another appeared and drew his eye across the black expanse, and then another as if a lamplighter was apparating through the cosmos. They started home, Albus' head tilted towards sky to trace the lamplighter's path. There was always another star. His job never complete.

Gellert turned off the main road before they made it out of the village centre. "Where are you going?"

"Come see."

"I think we should go home."

"This will be quick. Promise." Gellert took his hand and pulled him down the road. His hand was big but his grip wasn't tight and his pull wasn't forceful. Albus could have walked away if he wanted. He didn't.

Gellert led him to the chapel and through the black, wrought iron gate, into the cemetery. The tree canopy blocked the moon light and the lamplighter's guiding path. They stepped carefully and stopped at the headstone where Gellert had paused and taken notes on the day of his mother's funeral. "Lumos," Gellert said. His wand lit the long rectangular stone that sat flat on the ground. Runes had been carved into a boarder. There were several deep cracks in the stone, vandals or the slow ingress of water.

Albus read the inscription. "Ignotus Peverell – 12 July, 1214 – 19 May, 1292." There was another carving above the name – the Deathly Hallows symbol.

"That looks old, right?" Gellert asked. "Like it was carved into the stone originally."

"As opposed to by some miscreant centuries later?"

"Yes."

Albus crouched down and Gellert brought his wand closer. "Yeah, I think it was. The edges of the carving aren't sharp. They're beveled and chipped. They've been worn."

"Peverell must have been one of the three brothers."

"Well... must is a strong word." Albus stood back up. "But it's a possibility."

"We should figure out who his descendants are and which Hallow he had."

"1214 to 1292. He was almost eighty. If the story is anything to go by, I'd say it was the cloak."

"That's just some morality tale for children. It could be any of them."

"Are there any other Peverells buried here? We should come back in the daylight."

Gellert agreed. Albus turned to the gate but again Gellert took his hand and pulled him elsewhere. They crossed the cemetery to the small wooden stake that marked his mother's grave. Gellert drew his wand in a slow circle and a wreath appeared at the base of the stake.

"Thank-you," Albus whispered. His lips trembled over the words. It was kind in a world that wasn't.

Gellert squeezed his hand. "Nox."

The house was dark when Albus arrived home. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, careful to avoid the creaks and popped his head into both of his siblings' rooms. They slept soundly. A third door stood closed at the other end of hall. Albus paused. It was the door to his mother's room. It had been closed when they had come home from the hospital and had remained closed ever since. He should go through her things, clothes, photographs. He sighed and climbed the stairs to his room in the attic. He lit the lantern on his desk. Three owls stared back at him, Arthur, Elphias', and one he did not recognize that carried a note in its beak. He took it and opened it.

Goodnight
– Gellert