- July 1899 -

After Mrs. Bagshot dragged Gellert from the house, Albus gathered the books from the kitchen table and took them to his room. He slid them under the bed and winced as they hit the wall with a light thud. He went back downstairs and made breakfast and did the washing up. He slept away the afternoon and then made dinner and did the washing up while Aberforth and Ariana sat on the sofa in the sitting room playing cat's cradle - Aberforth having accepted a winter with cold toes and finding a better use for the ball of yarn.

"Where's the chess board?" Albus asked.

"Isn't it too late?" Aberforth said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. We'll just make sure it's out if she comes over again."

"But won't that-"

"Ab! Just… Where is it?"

"Don't know. Mum must've stashed it away." Aberforth said as he slipped his fingers out the yarn configuration and left it to dangle in a limp knot in front of Ariana.

Albus shook his head. "Of course she did. We can't have one good memory of him. He's not some monster."

"Who's not a monster?" Ariana asked. She wrapped the yarn absentmindedly around her fingers as if they were knitting needles.

"No one." Albus said. He turned to the hutch behind him and opened the doors. He crouched down to check the bottom shelf. "We had it here, right? Mum didn't toss it in the move with the rest of his stuff?"

"No. We had it. I remember playing here. She got mad at us because there were still boxes to unpack."

"She may have tossed it then."

"Why would Mum throw it out?" Ariana asked.

"Because I would always win and then Ab would throw a tantrum and Mum got sick of it."

"Not true," Aberforth said.

Ariana giggled and Albus smiled at the sound. He crawled across the floor and checked under the sofa and the chair. Aberforth stood from the sofa and checked the drawers in the writing desk. They flipped over cushions and through the record stacks. Albus pulled the books off the mantel and even lifted the far too small floo powder urn for completion's sake.

After Ariana went to bed, they started in on the kitchen. They opened every cupboard and looked in every pot. Albus climbed on top of counter and to check the top of the cabinets.

"Nothing. Just grease and dust." He wrinkled his nose at the sticky grime that coated the top of the wood. "Gross."

"Have you tried summoning it?"

Albus turned around and looked down at his brother and then up at the ceiling. "Merlin's beard."

Aberforth laughed as Albus reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his wand. His brother's laugh was far less endearing than his sister's. "Accio chess board."

They waited quietly for it to rattle its way out of hiding and into the kitchen. The house was still.

Albus sat down on the counter.

"Does that mean she tossed it?" Aberforth asked.

"Or she put an anti-summoning charm on it."

"That seems extreme."

"So does tossing it."

"She really hated him."

Albus pulled a foot up on the counter and rested his elbow on his knee. He hung his head and ran his hand through his hair. "It's so messed up. I don't know. Maybe it's just hidden somewhere it can't get out of. Behind a latched door or something. Let's just go to bed. We'll look again tomorrow."

They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Aberforth stopped at the top and looked towards the closed door of their mother's room. He then looked back at Albus. Albus shook his head. "Tomorrow."

Albus didn't sleep. The afternoon nap was a mistake. Anytime he closed his eyes, he pictured his father alone and forgotten in a cell. His body was so frail that he could almost slip through the bars. His mind was so broken that he wouldn't ever try.

At the first chirp of the birds the next morning, Albus got up and searched through the linen closet on the second floor that stood between Aberforth and Ariana's rooms. He shook out the woolen winter blankets, misshapen by age and holes and the spare threadbare cotton sheets.

"What are you doing?" Ariana yawned.

Through a particularly worn patch of the sheet he held, Albus could see his sister peaking out from her door. Her figure was softened by the dim morning light and the sheet that stretched between them. She could have been a ghost. Another yawn stretched across her face.

"Sorry," Albus said. He was sorry for many things. Sorry for waking her. Sorry their father was never able to teach her chess. Sorry her life was confined behind a veil.

She just waited for an answer, her head tilted to rest against the door.

"Nothing," Albus sighed. He dropped the last sheet into the heap on the floor that had swallowed his ankles. "How about breakfast?"

They made their way downstairs to the kitchen. Ariana sat at the table and Albus put on the tea. He brought the pot to the table and took the milk from the icebox for Ariana.

The icebox.

Magic kept it cold, not ice. Albus unlatched the ice drawer that sat above the food stores. Instead of a blue tinted translucent block of ice, it held a short wooden box with black and white squares painted across the top.

Feet stumbled on the floor above. "Bloody hell. You better have found the damn thing," Aberforth yelled from upstairs.

"I think he tripped on the blankets," Ariana said, her voice tinted with a giggle.

Albus turned and smiled at her, the box raised in his hand. He shook it and the pieces rattled inside. Aberforth walked in with a scowl. His eyes widened when he saw the box.

"Up for a game?" Albus asked.

They set up the board. The white queen was missing from the set. Albus fetched a muggle penny from the pouch in the writing desk. He placed it on the white square beside the king, heads up. They played a game over breakfast and they began playing in the evenings after dinner. They moved the end table forward between the sofa and the chair in the sitting room and set up the board there. Ariana hovered beside Albus on the sofa. She watched every game. Her eyes darted between the pieces as they moved. When Aberforth forcefully stood from his seat after his second loss one evening and walked heavily to the kitchen, Albus offered the seat to Ariana. She beamed as she reset the pieces.

"Dad always said chess was simple. Focus, stamina, and a well-timed check. He'd say this while tapping tobacco from his canister into his pipe. He would sit back and sip from it as he played. You knew you had caught him by surprise if he pulled it from his mouth. And you knew you had him on the run if he started playing with the slider on the side of the canister, popping the lid on and off." Albus looked to Aberforth who had returned to the sitting room with a cup of tea. "Where do you suppose Mum hid those?"

"You remember Dad?" Ariana asked.

Albus looked at her for a moment. They didn't speak about their father. It was uneasy. "Yes." He paused again. "Do you?"

"No," she said simply. "Mum never spoke about him."

Albus and Aberforth shared a pointed look.

"Dad was great. I think you were his favorite." She smiled. "He would have taught you to play too. He was great teacher."

Like their dad had done when they were kids, Albus played without his queen and gave Ariana do overs and hints, reminded her to castle her king when she could. She stale mated him.

"I think this calls for a celebration," Albus said. He stood and placed a record on the gramophone that sat beside the writing desk. The staticky orchestra filled the small room with an upbeat jig. Albus turned back to Ariana and bowed, stretching out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

She giggled and took and his hand. He spun her around the room, there feet quick and bouncy. The next song was faster but Ariana kept pace. Strands of hair fell loose from her braids. She gripped his hand and the back of his shirt tighter and let him steer her through the room until he collapsed onto the sofa out of breath.

Albus did not see Gellert that week. He wrote to Elphias and asked him about Hallows. He sent Arthur this time to let the bird stretch its wings.

Thursday evening Albus ran into the sitting room as Aberforth was setting up the pieces and thrust a wet plate in his brother's face.

"Ab, look. It's clean. It came out of the sink clean. I didn't have to touch it."

Aberforth recoiled and pulled his knees to his chest. "You're getting water everywhere."

Albus pointed his wand back over his shoulder towards the kitchen and flicked it forward. A tea towel flew past him into Aberforth's face. "I think we can fix that."

"You're the worst."

"Of the three of us, I'm actually the best at household magic."

The towel finished its assault on Aberforth and wrapped itself around the dripping plate in Albus' hand. Aberforth looked up at him, smirking, his eyebrow raised pointedly. Albus' own words echoed in his head. His shoulders fell and he let the plate slip from his pruned fingers and fly back to the kitchen and into the cupboard. His great accomplishment in life, being better at charming scrub brushes than two underaged wizards, one of whom may or may not be a squib.

Ariana dragged Albus off the sofa that night to dance. He put on something slower, a waltz. The soft flow on the music was chopped up by the sticky click of static. Ariana didn't seem to mind. She stared down at his feet and followed with ease. A hoo sounded over the music and Albus turned. He stepped on Ariana's foot as Arthur fluttered through the window and perched on the back of the sofa. "Sorry. Sorry," he said. He stumbled out of her grip towards the sofa. He untied the letter affixed to the owl's talon and unrolled it.

Albus,

I must confess, I have never heard of the Hallows referenced outside of the fable. I've never heard of them referred to as the Hallows. This may show me to be un-wordly and un-traveled but alas for that is what I am. You were always the smart one. I know this summer hasn't been what you had envisioned but don't waste your life away hunting down fictional objects created by an author to teach children about the pitfalls of power hunger.

-Elphias

His life was already a waste.

"Go dance with your sister," Albus said to Aberforth.

He walked out of the sitting room and up to the attic. He crouched down and reached under his bed for the books. He pulled the piece of parchment with Ichiro's name out. Arthur appeared at his bedroom window, having followed him up, eager for a treat. He held the parchment out for the owl. "Gellert." Arthur took it in his beak and flew next door. He returned moments later with a reply.

Leave the book at the well.

The next day Albus wrapped the book in a tea towel to prevent it from getting wet, tucked it under his arm, and took it to the well. He filled the water buckets and laid the book against the pump. He stood at the sitting room window and watched until he saw Gellert cross the road with his own water buckets. That night after Albus had gone to bed, Gellert's owl landed on his windowsill. He climbed out of bed to check if there was a note. Arthur reached the window first and the two owls flew off together. There was no message but a light glowed softly from outside. Silhouetted by a lantern, Gellert sat in his own window across the small side yard that separated the houses. He had one leg up on the sill and the other dangled in the night air. His head was down, focused on the book he held. He was handsome and alluring and Albus wanted to be a part of his world.

He turned on his own lantern, pulled out the book that contained death records and mirrored Gellert's perch on the windowsill. It was as if he were back in school, in the Gryffindor common room, up late studying after the crowds had thinned. There was a silent comradery amongst the few students who stayed. As the moon rose overhead, the air cooled and blew across the scorched surface of the earth. It healed the wounds of the previous day. Albus smiled when he caught them turning a page at the same time or swinging their legs in sync. As the village slept beneath them, they worked to build a pathway out for themselves together.

A tap echoed between the houses. Gellert held his wand to a page. He turned into his room and quickly turned back, releasing a paper crane into the air. It floated silently towards him and Albus plucked it from the sky. He unfolded it and read the new name.

Iolanthe Peverell - daughter of Ichiro Peverell.

The next descendent was a girl. That complicated the research. Would Ichiro have passed such an heirloom to his daughter, into a new family name, or would he have passed it to another male relative? There was no way to know.

The next night Albus took the tea pot up to his room.

"Where are you going with that?" Aberforth asked. He blew out the last candle and followed Albus up to bed.

"My room."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Wow, okay. You need more sleep."

It wasn't sleep he needed. He had been jittery all day. A piece of him sat askew. He laid in bed in the dark room and watched the window. He waited for the warm glow of Gellert's lantern to drift in. When it did, that piece within him clicked into place. He got out of bed, lit his lantern, and joined Gellert on the windowsill. He raised his mug of tea in greeting. Gellert raised a bottle of booze in return.

Gellert found the next name that night – Jacob Potter, born 1290. Iolanthe was listed as the mother and Hardwin Potter as the father. Albus finished off the death records for the 1200s. Jacob wasn't listed which meant he had made it past infancy to at least the age of ten. A Potter family still lived in Godric's Hollow. Could it be that easy? What if it was that easy? What was Gellert's next move? Was he going to break into the house and steal whichever Hallow they possessed? Would he duel them for it?

Albus didn't mention the family to Gellert. Their family tree was still incomplete. The family in the house up the road may be descendants of a lower branch, a younger brother, and therefore not the inheritors. There was no need to bring them to Gellert's attention yet.

He left the death records for the 1300s by the well for Gellert the next day. They worked through them over the following week. They added four more names. Potter remained the surname. They agreed to go back to the chapel to get the next set of records. Gellert's owl flew through his window to where Albus waited on his bed. The owl went for his hand again but Albus pulled away. "Fool me once," he said and shooed the bird off his stomach so he could make his way downstairs.

"Alb? Where are you going?"

Albus stopped halfway down the stairs. Ariana stood in the open doorway to her room. "No where. It's fine. Go back to bed, Ari."

"I'm not going back to bed until you go back to bed."

"Don't be silly."

"You're sneaking out again. Mrs. Bagshot was angry the last time you snuck out. It was bad. She said you couldn't do it anymore."

"She said Gellert couldn't spend the night anymore. But it doesn't matter what Mrs. Bagshot says. I'm an adult and she's not my mother. Go back to bed." Albus turned and continued down the stairs. Ariana rushed after him and grabbed him arm. "Ariana." He was annoyed and tried to shake her off but she wouldn't let go.

"Please. Stop," she pleaded. Her voice cracked. She was crying. She was scared.

The door to her bedroom swung shut and slammed against its frame. The door to their mother's room rattled against its latch and a deep crack snaked up the wood grain. The family pictures that hung on the wall beside the stairs fell from their hooks. The stair banister buckled under Albus' hand. Aberforth rushed from his room. He took Ariana by surprise and was able to pull her away. Albus pulled out his wand. "Protego." Light shot from his wand and fell in bubble around Ariana. She fell to the ground and curled in on herself. Periodic bursts of light shot from her body and dissipated against the shield. They casted a momentary stark glow over her broken form hunched in the dark hallway, like a flare shot into the night sky from a sinking ship. Albus leaned against the wall and slid down it until he was sat on the steps. His breath was heavy. His hands shook. "Expecto Patronum." A silver orb glowed at the tip of his wand but quickly vanished. He hung his head and closed his eyes.

"How could you?" Aberforth stood at the top of the stairs and glowered over him. "You're supposed to protect her. You're supposed to keep her calm. She was begging you to stay but you wouldn't listen. What do you have going on that's more important? Gellert? The neighbourhood goon? I saw what you did, remember."

Albus looked up at his brother. "I was standing up for her."

"You were standing up for yourself. You had the chance to stand up for her tonight."

The hallway was a disaster zone and his sister, the casualty of his arrogance, lay in the center. He couldn't look at her. "Help me put her to bed."

Aberforth nodded. Albus lifted the shield charm and they caried her to her bed. She was small but her limp body was heavy. The family picture had been knocked down from her nightstand again. Albus picked it up and looked at it for a moment. He willed himself back to a happier time. "Expecto Patronum." A phoenix shot from his wand. It settled beside Ariana as Aberforth tucked her in. She looked at peace. Looks could be deceiving.

"There's something you should see," Aberforth said. Albus followed him out of Ariana's room to the door of their mother's room. Aberforth turned the brass handle. Albus hadn't seen the room since he'd been home.

"Lumos."

The sight was horrific. The bed frame was cracked and it had caved in on itself. The chandelier was smashed on the floor. There were glass shards everywhere. The bedside table was lodged in the closet wall on the opposite side of the room. There were holes in the plaster. The brackets that held the curtain rod had been ripped from the wall. The rod was stabbed in the plaster across the room and the pastel floral curtains hung from it, limp and torn. There were large patches on the ceiling and the walls where the plaster was missing and lay in a dusty beige heap on the floor. The dresser drawers were open, some had fallen out. Clothes were strewn everywhere.

Albus stood frozen. He hadn't thought about how his mother had died, just that she was dead. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you ask?"

"That's not fair."

"Not fair? What's not fair is you running around at night hurling curses at muggles, risking a one-way ticket to Azkaban. I was old enough to remember when they took Dad. And where would that leave us? Ministry care?"

Albus looked at his brother. Aberforth stood back, in the hallway. He wouldn't step into the room. The moonlight glimmered off the tears in his eyes. He looked small and young. He was so quick to challenge him that Albus forgot he was only fifteen.

"I didn't know it could get this bad."

"Maybe we should take her back to St. Mungos?" Aberforth whispered.

Albus shook his head. "Mum wanted her at home."

"Mum's dead." Aberforth turned and went back to his room and shut his door.

Albus shut the door to their mother's room "Nox."