He could see their minds out in front of him, like maps. Both maps were strange but oh - so different.
He had watched them for weeks before deciding to delve deeper. From day one, it was obvious to him that something was wrong with one of them. Of course, it depended on how the word 'wrong' was defined. Strictly speaking, there was something wrong with the whole family. He was not interested in the whole family, however, just in the two boys sitting by the river.
One of them had drawn his eye instantly; he was not too sure about the other one. That, in itself, was amazing. It was not in his nature to be unsure. His kind were rarely unsure about anything - especially people.
On the outside - that is, until one watched their behaviour - they were very alike. Both boys were thin and rather tall for their age. Both had blue eyes that shone like crystals and long wavy reddish-brown hair - auburn, to be exact. Both wore half-moon glasses and, having been given identical sets of clothes, always had exactly the same garments on. Perhaps one was older, one was more skeletal than the other or one had freckles whilst the other didn't but it was all the same to the casual observer.
The first clue was the eyes. The freckled one, suffering some sunburn, had eyes that alive - shining with a reckless defiance to authority. It was at the other's eyes that made most people turn away, shaking their heads: there was no life in them. Looking into them was like looking into a dark well. Nothing could be seen.
He had been drawn by the youngest's energy; his kind were drawn towards vibrant life. He could practically feel it coming off the boy, ruffling his feathers slightly. The energy seemed to float around him like an aura - there was no doubting this boy's will, only its direction. His curiosity had been aroused by the deadness in the brother's eyes - but nothing else.
If it was going to be anybody, it would be the younger brother.
That was what he had thought, in his vague, uplifted way, until the day before, when he'd seen their auras.
Oh, the one he had focussed on had an aura that set his senses tingling. It sparkled and glittered, a maelstrom of colour. Yet red and black were the colours that dominated. Red for anger, and black for darkness. He'd turned his eyes to the older brother's, disappointed - and nearly fallen off his perch in shock!
In all his many years - though they did not seem many to him, being a young one of his kind - he'd never seen such a thing. At first glance, the boy had no aura. It was only when the phoenix had strained that he'd something - something small and flickering, of an unidentifiable colour… something that had set most of his plumage whispering, as if in a wind.
And now he was looking at their minds.
The younger brother's mind was a picture. It was bright and colourful and glimmering like gold. If it had actually been a picture, it would have been painted by a master artist and been worth thousands of Galleons. It was also the type of picture that very few people would have wanted to have hung in their bedroom - or, indeed, anywhere in their house. This boy's mind burned. It burned with hatred and anger.
The phoenix had seen hatred and anger before - who couldn't, in this imperfect world? It was something he flew away from: his very being was born for love and peace. Still, this had not prevented him from seeing negative emotions. Yet it was rare to find a mind riddled with the deepest kind of abhorrence, utter loathing. It had gone right to the core of this boy's being and hardened into a life-long aim which had been sharpened like a knife by years of fury.
His talons gripped the tree-branch still more tightly as he looked at the elder brother's mind again.
It was a barren wasteland. Nothing lived, nothing grew - metaphorical winds howled around mental cliffs. There was nothing driving this boy. If the phoenix hadn't seen the faint suggestion of an aura, he would have believed that the boy was like a Dementor, devoid of any soul whatsoever. The faint suggestion…
He was not a being of rationality or logic. The small part of him that existed merely to tell him when to eat and sleep was, however, telling him, in an annoyingly sensible voice, to move on and find another. The one you hoped for is no good, it pointed out. And taking the other would be silly, a frightful risk. You couldn't even see what colour that dying aura was. It would be silly. Move on.
It was the first serious thought he had had in more than a century. Young phoenixes aren't generally given to solemn contemplation and he was a particularly upbeat specimen. He wasn't stupid, simply optimistic.
He trilled several soft notes, torn in indecision.
The Eternal Flame moves us…
He stopped and sat up slightly, the rest of that saying among the firebirds coming into his head. At the heart of all the carefree joy, there were the Songs and the Sayings. One of these was always said over a phoenix's first Birth and all were learnt later. And yet the hatchling's memory was seared by those first notes…
The Eternal Flame moves us in more than fiery flashes… it can be found in infernos or embers - or even dusty ashes…
That was what he'd found, wasn't it? An inferno and dusty ashes.
A series of sharp trills interrupted the evening air and caused the younger brother to look around in a puzzled manner before going back to idly skimming stones on the surface of the calm water. His sibling continued to sit and stare into nothing.
Follower of the Eternal Flame - may you have many births!
The phoenix glanced around to see an older specimen of his kind flying towards him, to perch beside him on the creaking branch. He sang a few sweet notes in greeting and then the stranger uttered the question note. He sang an answering melody and the stranger ruffled his feathers in surprise.
You choose your Flame so young?
Yes, came the answer. I have searched through many Eternal Nights and found an inferno and dusty ashes.
The older phoenix's eyes ranged around before falling on the two boys seated on the grass below. He gazed at them for a moment.
Where the Flame burns brightest, that is where most Light is to be found.
His younger companion bowed his head at the Saying but then sang:
I fear the inferno burns into itself.
Fly on, advised the stranger. Unless the ashes hold a jewel?
No jewel that I can see.
The older phoenix gave a quick trill of irritation and flapped his wings, signalling his disbelief of the hatchling's refusal to abandon a lost case. Do not linger - the other Flame does not burn eternally for humans.
Why not you look for me? warbled the younger one unhappily, feeling his customary carefree mood draining away.
It was only a few minutes before the older phoenix gave his final reply.
The inferno does indeed turn in on itself. You would go for the ashes? His mind is a desert. It may be said that the Flame can be found anywhere but I do not think it can be found in him. It would be a foolish risk to take him.
The other turned golden eyes towards him and very deliberately sang:
I have heard that a foolish risk is the one that succeeds.
You will regret it, the older phoenix screeched haughtily before flying away, disappearing amongst the trees.
"Aberforth!" came a human call from across the field. "Your father wants a word!"
"Huh?" said the freckled, internally raging boy. "What about?"
"Aberforth!" snapped his mother's voice. "Come along and you'll know, won't you!"
"Okay, coming, Mother," called out the ten year-old in a falsely cheery voice. He muttered angrily under his breath as he got up and straightened his robes and shot a look of pure venom at the gate and the path leading up to the house.
"Bring your brother!" came a distant order and Aberforth muttered moodily under his breath again.
He turned brusquely towards his sibling and scowled at the blank look he received from him. He hauled Albus roughly up by one arm and literally dragged him across the pathway and through the gate. His brother made no sound, nor any sign of resistance - or indeed, any sign of even knowing who his brother was.
The young phoenix watched him somewhat uneasily.