- July 1899 –
The grass rustled to Albus' left. The air was still on his skin. It wasn't a breeze. It rustled to his right. Behind him and in front of him. There were at least four and they were moving closer.
"The triangle. You're the ones carving it all over the village? What is it? Some freaky satanic shit? Is this some ritual? To hex our water supply?"
"Albus?" Ariana crowded next to him. Albus stepped in front of her, their backs to the well. She gripped the back of his shirt.
"What are you holding? That's what they had at the monument."
They were close enough to recognize the wands but Albus still only saw black.
"Nox." The white glow retreated into his wand.
"Nox." Gellert quickly did the same.
Albus blinked the residual light from his eyes. A silhouette emerged a few yards in front of him.
"How did you do that?"
"Get them before they can use them."
The silhouette rushed towards him and footsteps hurried from all sides. Albus shot a tripping jinx at the muggle and he tumbled to the ground. He rounded his wand on the well cover and whipped it between Aberforth and the muggle who charged him. He pushed the lid forward into the muggle to hold him off. Coloured light flashed on the other side of the well from Gellert's wand. It faded as the muggle ran and Gellert pursued.
"Albus!" Ariana tugged on his shirt. The muggle he had tripped had crawled forward. He grabbed Albus' wrist and stole his wand. Albus lunged after him and pushed him down into the grass.
Ariana screamed.
Albus stopped and turned. One of the muggles had a tight grip on her arm. Albus shot up towards her but the muggle below him pulled him back. A third muggle rushed forwards to hold him down. Ariana struggled and called for him. The muggle who held her yanked on the braid in her hair and growled at her to shut up. Albus' face was slammed into the dirt. His nose broke with a crack. He tried to call back to Ariana but choked and spat on the dry dirt and warm blood that filled his mouth. He thrashed to break free but the two muggles had him pinned. A foot pressed down on the back of his neck. He froze. The foot pressed further. It felt about to snap. There was nothing he could do. Aberforth lay slumped against the well near the pump, his hand pressed to his head. Ariana called his name again. Desperate tears pooled in his eyes. She pleaded for him and he could not get to her.
The long blades of grass scratched across his face. They whispered as a wind whipped through them. The storm built and howled in the sky. Water bubbled up in the well and spilled over the stone wall, an unpractised witch's brew that boiled out of the cauldron, out of control.
The foot on his neck released and careened into his ribs. He lurched in pain. "What are you doing?" they yelled at him. "We know it's you and your freaky satanic witchcraft." Another kick landed to his ribs.
"Stupify." The muggle kneeling on his back slumped off. Albus scrambled to his feet. "Accio." His wand shot out of the other's hand. Albus grabbed it out of the air as it flew past him, towards Gellert.
The third muggle still had his hold on Ariana. Albus charged him. He released Ariana and stumbled back. Albus chased him and tackled him against the well. He grabbed the muggle's head and thrust it into the overflow of water. The muggle struggled but Albus held his head as he had held Ariana's arm, unrelenting, and without mercy.
Footsteps scurried away and faded into the black surround.
"Alb." Aberforth said quietly beside him.
Ariana yelled. "Stop. Stop please. You're scaring me. Albus."
His breath heaved to keep up with his heart that raced to pump blood to his seizing muscles. The fury scared him but the water rushing over his white knuckles carried it away and egged him further.
Hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back against a firm chest. "Hold him down," Gellert said. Albus held the muggle's head at the surface, threatening to push him under again. If he timed it right, he could get a short and shallow breath between the ebb and flow of the fountain that bubbled. If not, his lungs would fill with water. Gellert pulled Albus' wand hand free and guided it so his wand pointed at the back of the muggle's head. Hot breath passed across the back and his neck and over his ear. "Feels good right? The power. This is the way it should be. Imagine if this was the Elder Wand, the greatest magical object in your hands. The magic contained within so mighty that it's alive." Gellert's hand moved up across his torso, over his heart. "You can feel its pulse. It wills to be unleashed. We would be unstoppable. They wouldn't dare cross us."
Water bubbled and lapped over the muggle's head like Gellert's words lapped over his own. The muggle sputtered and thrashed beneath Albus' grip. Albus did not let up. His breath was heavy and his chest pushed against Gellert's hand. His grip flexed around the wand. Spells poured from his mind but they came too quickly and too jumbled and his teeth cut around them before they could spill from his lips.
The wind howled. The water rumbled and shot into the air in a geyser. Albus and Gellert stumbled back. The abandoned water bucket was picked up off the ground in the storm and whipped through the air. It slammed into Albus's head.
Black.
Water splashed onto Albus' face. He blinked his eyes open. Fuzzy lights obscured Gellert who leaned over him. Pain shot through his forehead. He rolled over and vomited. He was cold. His body shook. Gellert pressed a wet handkerchief to his head. Albus covered his hand with his own and pressed hard in attempt to ease the throb. He looked up. Ariana and Aberforth huddled by the well. They leaned against the wooden cover. Ariana hugged her knees to her chest. Her braids weaved from her scalp and hung from her neck, bowing her head down behind her arms. Her body slowly rocked back and forth. The Deathy Hallows symbol was carved into the wood above her. Like a crown.
Was she the inspiration for the movement? Or was she the consequence of it?
"We should go," Gellert said.
"Yes, we should."
Albus patted Ariana's arms. He tried to unwrap them from her body. She shook. "Ari," he said. "It's Alb. It's safe now." She did not respond. Albus casted his Patronus and the silver Pheonix circled the well and perched on her shoulder. She looked up then, at the bird and its glow. The whites of her eyes were red and her pupils had blown wide and swallowed the blue iris into their black abyss.
He was able to coax her up. Aberforth followed and retrieved the water bucket. Gellert slid the cover back over the well and resecured the lock. The phoenix took flight and guided the path as they walked towards the road. Ariana slumped into Albus' side. Her eyes appeared unfocused, her steps uneven and without purpose.
Once back in the house, Ariana pushed away from him and made her way upstairs to her room. Albus watched. Her pace was slow and unsteady. She looked almost drunk or that her muscles had lost their tone. He wanted to rush after her and help her. He wanted to hug her and read to her until she cuddled back and smiled at him. But what he wanted and what she wanted were two different things, so he waited in the sitting room until her door closed. Aberforth handed him the water bucket and retreated to his own room.
Albus stopped in the bathroom. He lit his wand and recoiled at the harsh light in the small room. His reflection in the mirror was shocking. He stared at himself. Red-brown blood crusted over his chin and lips. The bridge of his nose jutted to the side halfway down and the tip now pointed left of center. His eyelid was swollen over and tinted black and blue. A red gash ran from the arch of his eyebrow, over his temple, and into his hair line. He wore scowl that would not release. The reflection was violent. He set the bucket down. He gripped the handle. His fingernails dug into his palm. He looked away as he moved the handle and bucket filled with water. His hands shook as he poured the bucket into the wash basin. Water sloshed onto his shirt and the floor. He cupped his hands in the water and splashed it over face to wash it all away. The water in the basin turned pink then red but did little more to his reflection than sting. He winced as he dabbed healing ointment to the cut. The ruptured flesh sizzled and the surrounding area throbbed. "Episky." His nose snapped back straight.
Albus paused in the hallway in front of Ariana's room. He set his knuckles on the closed door to knock but stopped and flattened his palm to the wood. He turned and climbed the stairs to the attic.
He changed his shirt. It was wet and there was blood on it.
Gellert's owl swooped onto his sill with a note.
Are you okay?
-G
Yes.
-A
No, you're not. You're wearing my shirt.
-G
Albus looked down. The shirt was indeed Gellert's. The one he had wrapped the books in and left by the well. The cream one with faded, pale blue stripes. The cotton had worn soft. A loose thread poked from the center of the button on the left cuff. He wound it in a figure eight pattern around the second button. The sleeves were long and the shoulders were loose.
Well I'm not changing now that I know you're watching.
-A
That's new.
-G
Gellert sat down on his windowsill. Albus joined him. He undid the left cuff and tightened it on the second button so it wouldn't slip past his wrist. He folded the cuff over the sleeve to shorten the length. He did the same to the right.
They didn't speak or pass notes. They just sat. Albus leaned his head back against the frame and closed his eyes. He allowed himself to sink into the moment, sink into Gellert.
– August 1899 –
The Dumbledore house slipped into a coma. Aberforth and Ariana kept to their bedrooms and Albus wandered up and down the stairs hoping to stir them out for food or fresh air. At night Albus sat on the windowsill with Gellert. They completed the Potter family tree ending in Henry Potter, the man with the messy black hair, and Fleamount Potter, the boy with loose curls to match. There were a lot of ifs in their theory – if the symbol on Ignotus Peverell's tome stone was a mark of the Deathly Hallows, if the mark meant he owned one of them, if he passed it on to his eldest child who in tun passed it on their eldest child, if it was passed on through male precedence but not male only inheritance rules. But one of those if branches placed the Cloak of Invisibility in the Potter house, not a ten-minute walk away.
The ice man rattled up the dusty road with his donkey and cart Saturday afternoon. Albus gathered the muggle money to purchase the obligatory block. He walked next door and waited with Gellert. "Snow cones?" Gellert asked. He plucked a handful of raspberries from the bush planted along the wall and held his palm flat for Albus.
Albus took the offering and leaned forward and rested his forearms on the stone wall, one knee bent, the other straight and his stretched out behind him. The berries were sour. "We'll see."
Gellert made a show of mimicking his posture. Albus scrunched his nose and shook his head but smiled.
"Who's the broad?" Gellert examined the stern portrait on the coin. He puffed out his cheeks and scowled in a crude imitation. "Looks like Aunt Bathilda."
"Queen Victora?" Albus raised an eyebrow. "Been on the thrown for sixty years. That's a tell right there that something's off with you. Forget a wand or garden gnomes or an abundance of brooms, you don't know who Queen Victoria is."
"I'm an immigrant."
"From Europe, not Antarctica."
Gellert shrugged. "Sixty years… must be running things alright. It's going to be tough to overthrow."
"She doesn't run anything. It's all for show. She's lived in perpetual mourning for thirty years since her husband died."
"Some bloke."
The cart pulled up to Mrs. Bagshot's front gate and Gellert and Albus purchased a block a each.
"That's some green grass you got," the ice man said. He looked out at the field across the road as he led the donkey onwards and turned back for another look at Mrs. Bagshot's garden.
Albus and Gellert walked the blocks back to the Dumbledore house. Gellert nudged him and bounced the block in his arm. "All for show."
They walked in the front door and stood at the base of the stairs. There was no movement from the second floor.
"Should we call?" Gellert asked.
"They know," Albus said.
He walked to the kitchen and out the back door. Gellert followed. Albus set the block in the middle of the back garden to slowly melt into the grass and cool the sun's burn, a small salve in the late weeks of summer. Gellert offered his ice too. They laid down in the brown grass with their heads next to the ice blocks. The melt trickled over the ground and into Albus' hair and around the nape of his neck. The relief wasn't as sweet as the snow cones but it was something.
"The night at the well - you conjured a corporeal Patronus." Gellert said. "The bird."
Albus hummed in affirmation. "Phoenix."
"It helps with Ariana? Helps control her? She's actually quite powerful."
"Not control. But it can help. Sometimes. It's calming." It wasn't a cure all. It didn't erase trauma. If it did, she would be down in grass beside him with sugary ice and a newly weaved crown.
Gellert was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "I've never mastered the corporeal form."
Albus turned his head to the side to face him. There was almost a question to his words. Not the mastery or lack there of but if he should admit the fact.
"It didn't help that I was expelled part way through the unit."
"If you go to Hogwarts in September, you'll learn."
"I'm not going back to school. I wrote to Gregorovitch. He's a master in wand lore. He has some theories of his own. Figured I'd pay him a visit."
"You could talk to Ollivander in London."
"Trying to get me to stay?"
"What if I came with you? With Ariana, of course."
Gellert turned to him. He chewed his tongue as his eyes scanned Albus' face. "Didn't think you had it in you."
"Shut up," Albus said and reached his arm out to smack his chest.
"Albus." Gellert paused and waited until Albus turned back to look at him. "You should absolutely come with me. Ariana too, of course. We're good together."
"We're good together," Albus repeated. They were quiet then for some time and the words – we're good together – hovered in the still air above them. Albus breathed it in. His shoulders relaxed and his mind began to drift within the small bubble he and Gellert had created for themselves.
"Do you actually have a happy thought? With the Patronus?" Gellert asked.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
Albus paused. Ariana's bedroom window stood high above him, well out of reach. The glare from the sun bounced off the glass so he could not see inside. It felt weird to speak about a happy moment with his family when he had caused them pain and shut him out. It felt like a dismissal or a betrayal.
"Trying to rid the back garden of gnomes when we were kids. It was chaos. We were terrible. Our parents didn't care about the gnomes. They were just having fun and being silly with us."
"That must be it. I don't have any happy memories from home."
"Not one?" Albus asked. His family was broken but he still had many happy memories. His father wasn't an abusive alcoholic though. His father's actions were illegal but they weren't wrong. Albus's world wasn't safe for wizards but his home always was.
"Guess not."
Albus inched his fingers across the grass between their hands. They danced around each other. "What about school? You seem like the kid who was always getting up to mischief. They were always having fun. At least in the moment."
Gellert shook his head. "I just floated through. I was never apart of it."
Albus hummed. "Wizards just float through the muggle's world. We're not apart of it."
"I knew I liked you, Albus Dumbledore." The black of Gellert's pupils had retreated in the bright afternoon sun and scorched his wide eyes brilliant and blue. His lips were soft with a genuine smile, not a smirk.
Albus grasped his hand fully and leaned over and kissed him to hold his lips in that smile, warm and handsome. Gellert pressed back and leaned up. He rolled Albus to his back and thumbed the button of Albus' sleeve cuff. It pressed against the soft tendons underneath. Albus's fingers tingled. Gellert licked at his bottom lip, nipped it, and then pulled back. His blond hair flopped forward.
"That night at the creek is a happy memory." His smirk returned and he rolled his hips down into Albus'.
Albus rolled his eyes. "That won't work. It's too…"
"What?"
"Tainted."
"Tainted?"
"With violence and adrenaline and booze."
"Desire?"
"Desire isn't happy."
"Desire isn't happy? What sort of deprived life are you living?"
"Look around." Gellert tilted his head up at the house and the windows. He rolled off Albus and they both looked up at they sky. "Memories are tricky. That happy moment can't just have existed. The conjurer must allow themselves to go back to that moment completely without revision, without guilt or cynicism. But of course, memory, by definition, is revision."
"A paradox."
"Precisely. Much like that wand you seek."
Gellert shook his head. "It just hasn't found its rightful master."
"And you're its rightful master?"
"You doubt me?"
"Perhaps I'm its rightful master?"
Gellert turned to look at him, his smile wide. "Careful now."
Albus laughed and raised his hands up on either side of his head in surrender. "I'm just saying. It's a possibility."
"It is a possibility."
Gellert plucked a blade of dry grass placed it between his teeth. He chewed it as he searched the empty sky. It was scorched in his eyes, brilliant and blue.
Gellert left when the ice had melted completely into the collars of their shirts. Albus returned to the house, still and quiet and hidden away behind the three bedroom doors on the second floor. The closed doors shielded in the form of isolation and avoidance. But a wound would never heal if sequestered from the rest of the body and fresh blood supply. A paradox.