A/N: Enjoy.

Autumn gradually passed into winter and Albus was woken up one chilly morning by the warm weight Fawkes on his face. The phoenix, now having regained his full plumage, had tried to wake the boy up by screeching in his ear but that had failed, so he had resorted to sitting on Albus's head. Albus gasped and choked and waved his arms about so that the phoenix had to skitter backwards over the duvet to avoid being hit.

"It's just me!" squawked Fawkes indignantly. "Calm down!"

Albus relaxed. "I'm tired. I don't want to get up now."

"Oh," said the phoenix casually. "I just thought you might have wanted to know that your mother's been taken to hospital."

Albus sat up so suddenly in bed that Fawkes instinctively fluttered away to land on the window sill. The boy stared at him, face pale and anxious. "Why? What's wrong with her?"

"She's having your brother," said Fawkes reassuringly, accepting that perhaps it had been a bit cruel to tell the boy his mother had been rushed to hospital without giving a reason. "Hopefully he won't be as repulsive as you."

He didn't hold out much hope. Just when Albus had got past the screeching stage, here came along another child to disturb him.

"Am I?"

Fawkes glanced back at Albus. The boy was sitting up in bed, hair all over the place, looking nervous and somewhat miserable. The phoenix felt something stir in him, something telling him he should comfort Albus.

"Are you what?"

"Am I really… repulsive?" Albus's eyes had gone big again. The phoenix found that he did not have the power to look into them.

"Uh - well," Fawkes blustered. For several moments, it seemed to him that Albus had been placed on the earth specifically with the purpose of embarrassing him. He certainly found the boy repulsive - staying with him was obviously a chore - even in spite of the fluffy orange hair and big innocent blue eyes and the way the child seemed genuinely concerned whenever he had his Burning Day - even then, Albus was still… Well, perhaps not as much as other humans - but still quite disgusting - even though said wretched, wretched child was gazing sadly at him with sapphire tear-rimmed eyes…

"Er - no, well, not really," the phoenix found himself saying in a small voice. He told himself that he was being an idiot but this inner message was not very emphatic as he saw Albus brighten slightly, his mouth turning up at the corners.

The boy drew his knees up so that his arms encircled them and then rocked backwards and forwards slightly. Thom's words had come back into his brain.

"Thom said that Mother is having a baby because I went wrong," he said quietly.

Fawkes felt almost angry at Albus for persisting to act like some wizard version of Oliver Twist and manipulating that silly side of his heart that wanted him to fly to Albus's shoulder and nuzzle the side of the boy's head. This is ridiculous. There's something wrong with me. A five-year-old is brainwashing me.

"Thom's a git, Albus. Your mother is having a baby because, for some absurd reason, she likes babies." He managed to keep the tone sufficiently sarcastic to prevent the boy from doing something irritating, like hugging him. Yet as he said it, he couldn't help but think that what Thom had said might hold a grain of truth. He knew Ulfin Dumbledore wanted a 'real boy.'

"Thank you, Fawkes," said Albus softly. Fawkes felt like screaming. "Please… could you sing me a song, like how you did when you met me?"

Fawkes was faced with another dilemma. "Ah - well - Albus, I'm not a stupid little songbird!" He drew himself up with dignity.

"No…but please-"

Unable to admit it to anyone, Fawkes opened his mouth and began to sing. Albus sat listening in mute horror. The jarring travesty of a melody caused a bird outside to plummet out of the sky and the boy's ears hurt from the maddened screeching. Once the carnage was over, there was a long silence, almost sacred for its lack of sound.

Fawkes turned his back on Albus so that he faced out of the window. Damn little nitwit, why'd you have to ask me that! The phoenix's first impulse was to fly out of the open window and never return.

"Fawkes," said Albus slowly, too young to know the meaning of the word 'tact,' "that was awful."

The phoenix stretched out his wings and the boy realised that he'd upset him. Fawkes, meanwhile, felt as though he'd burst into flame from sheer mortification.

"Wait!" cried out Albus desperately. "I'm sorry! Your song-"

"-Was dreadful," finished Fawkes sharply, still not looking at the boy. "I can't sing," he admitted bitterly, shuffling and hunching his wings.

Albus was suddenly standing beside the window ledge so that the phoenix could no longer avoid looking at him. Albus's eyes were round and his expression was contrite.

"When you're older, you will be able to sing," said Albus so confidently that Fawkes almost believed him. "Like how I can't do magic now - but I will, one day."

Fawkes stared at him and then gave the boy an affectionate nip on the ear before flying out of the window.

Father was gone with Mother for most of the day but returned in the evening to inform Albus properly that his baby brother had been born. Albus, who'd been interrupted at dinner with Nurse, had never seen Father look so delighted. Father's eyes were sparkling and he was grinning like a maniac.

"Albus, you have a new baby brother," he announced impressively. "He's a strong, healthy little lad and we've named him Aberforth Geraint Unferth Robert Dumbledore." (1)

"When can I see him, Father?" asked Albus, now feeling considerably more enthusiastic about the idea of a brother than he had that morning.

"You shall see him tomorrow," said Father happily. Then he walked away, exclaiming, "Two sons! Two sons!"

The very next day, Albus was taken in a Thestral drawn carriage to the hospital, being too young to be trusted with either Floo powder or a broom. Albus had never been so nervous or excited. He had never been so far away from home before and he watched the streets zoom past from out the window. He was about to meet Aberforth and he felt a combination of enthusiasm and apprehension about it. Thom's words had aroused an odd feeling of somehow being competed against and yet at the same time there was also the vague sensation of having gained some sort of unfamiliar responsibility - it went without saying for Albus that he would have to look after his brother.

Father led him by the hand into the hospital and up what seemed an infinite number of steps. The hospital was a blur of movement and sound that was almost overwhelming for Albus - he wanted to go home and curl up in the library with a book about good wizards fighting dragons instead. Luckily, things became quieter when Father got to the right floor and they entered a ward.

First of all, Albus saw his mother. He let out a cry of relief and ran at her, arms wide for an embrace. Mother hugged him but Father scolded him and told him not to worry Mother. He looked anxiously at Mother, to see that although she was pale and seemed exhausted, she was smiling. He then looked around for his sibling.

Baby Aberforth was lying asleep in a crib nearby, which explained why Mother and Father were speaking in hushed voices. Albus tiptoed up to the crib and looked down at his brother.

Aberforth was small and pink but - although Albus wasn't to know this - bigger than Albus had been and seemed a little healthier. Dark fuzz decorated the top of his head. Dark eyelashes were set against creamy skin. Albus, not being old enough to appreciate babies, felt slightly disappointed.

Just as he was thinking this, Aberforth stirred and opened his eyes. He took one look at Albus and instantly screwed up his face and wailed. Albus couldn't help but have a brief sensation of impending doom.

It was only when Aberforth had been brought home, however, that this feeling seemed justified. Aberforth's relentless screaming kept Albus from sleeping for almost a week. He stumbled around looking pale and tired and when he did manage to get to sleep, he suffered from nightmares about monsters that screamed. On its own, this problem would not have been much but Albus could not help remembering Thom's words.

Mother was having less and less time for him. Whenever Albus went to her, she was always holding Aberforth, feeding Aberforth, rocking Aberforth to sleep, singing to Aberforth and talking about Aberforth so that soon Albus had a small swell of resentment whenever he heard his brother's name. Once, Albus had run to her with more comments from Professor Wood about how well he was doing but in his glee, he had accidentally woken Aberforth and had received such a scolding from his mother that he'd hidden in his room for the rest of the afternoon.

Fawkes would have warned the boy against making the mistake - but Albus took, or attempted to take refuge in his father. He followed Father around the house and danced in front of Father with good words from Professor Wood - but Father did not seem to care at all. He became irritated by the way Albus was following him around and told him rather sharply to 'go back to his books.' Obediently, Albus went to the library but for some undefined reason in his young mind, he did not want to be there when Father had told him to go there in such a hard tone.

Things did not improve as the months passed. Even Nurse turned her attentions away from him to the new baby. Then he felt the bitter taste of betrayal when Father no longer wanted him to go the park. Father came into the library one day.

From the look on his face, Albus knew he was in trouble. He was scared at how thunderous Father's face was and his book fell from limp hands.

"Nurse has told me that you have been playing with someone I specifically told you not to go near," said Father in a quiet, dangerous voice. "I told you not to go near any mudbloods. I told you that the Lupin boy was a mudblood. What do you mean by disobeying me?"

Albus didn't answer. Terror had closed his throat.

Father spat the words. "I asked what do you mean by it?"

"But-" began Albus, trying to find the words to struggle against this adult law that threatened to sever his friendship with Samuel, trying to articulate the exhaustingly abstract idea that mudbloods weren't bad after all. It was the wrong way to begin.

Father crossed the room in one stride. He drew his wand. Albus sat, terrified, in his chair, mesmerised by the movement of that awful wand, symbol of an adult power he could not yet comprehend.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Father barked.

Albus let out a little cry as he was lifted up into the air by an invisible power. He was so frightened that he just hung there, teeth chattering. Father drew back his wand and cried another incantation before thrusting the wand forward in a violent movement.

SMACK!

Albus gave a howl as the spell hit him. It felt as though he had been hit with a belt buckle. Father did it again and again. Soon, Albus was crying piteously, bruises forming all over his small body. Finally, he was dropped back to the ground with a bump. Father said harsh words that he didn't take in, about mudbloods, and departed after giving the sobbing boy a look of contempt.

Fawkes arrived back from a foraging trip to find Albus crying quietly on the floor of the library. He forgot his resolution to maintain distance at all times and swooped down next to the boy, to say soothing words. Albus eventually sat up and explained what had happened in a trembling voice.

"F-Father b-beat me with h-his m-magic," he whimpered. "B-Because of S-Samuel…" He sniffled and then burst out, young mind on fire with confusion, "but Samuel's n-not b-bad! Mudbloods can't b-be all bad! Because S-Samuel-"

"Hush, it's all right," soothed Fakes - though he didn't really know about how to go about this comforting thing at all. The memory of the moment he'd decided to Bond with Albus came back to him. This boy will rise up above the deception and throw it down. Yet he still did not see how. He decided to say nothing about the incident - saying anything might damage what was being shaped…

Albus's sixth birthday passed in the shadow of Father's beating. Mother sang him Happy Birthday and he received a few presents in the morning but from breakfast onwards, his birthday was seemingly ignored. Father did not even look at him. His special friend did not appear and so was not even present.

It was, however, Thom, who was the final straw. Thom seemed to like to remind Albus of his misery and throw it in his face. He was now whispering nasty things to Albus everyday. It became a ritual for Albus to sit in his bedroom, hugging his knees on his bed, whilst Thom talked about how Father didn't like him and how Mother liked Aberforth more and how he was stupid and weird and how Samuel probably hadn't even liked him anyway.

"Father doesn't like you. Father doesn't want you," hissed Thom one afternoon. "You're not a real wizard. He doesn't care what Professor Wood says. You're a beastly little boy. Mother has forgotten you - Aberforth is better than you are. Even your dumb bird doesn't like you. You're repulsive and he has to stay with you but he doesn't really want to. He'll fly away one day. It's good that Nurse told Father about your secret Samuel. He's a horrible, filthy little mudblood. He didn't like you either-"

Albus's face had crumpled. He leapt off the bed to stand in front of Thom. "You're lying! That's not true!"

"Father doesn't love you."

Albus burst into to tears. He flung himself down on the floor and put his hands over his ears to block Thom's voice out. Suddenly, his special friend was there, shouting angrily at Thom.

"Go away! Go away!" his friend was shouting and Thom glared but faded away into nothing. Then his friend was trying to talk to him, trying to comfort him, but Albus wasn't listening…

Maria opened the door to see her son curled up in a heap on the floor, sobbing bitterly. Shocked, she dropped down beside him and pulled him into her lap, hushing him and stroking his head with her hand. She rocked him, heart beating a tattoo of alarm in her body. She couldn't think what had happened to make Albus like this.

"Darling, what in Merlin's name is wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Albus buried his face in her robes and snuffled into them. He was so miserable and hurt that he just repeated what Thom had said. "Father doesn't love me."

Maria's body stiffened. Horror mixed with anger formed a ball in her throat. Ulfin had never encouraged Albus as much as he should have but how Albus had reached such a conclusion, Merlin alone knew…

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus," she said firmly and a good deal more calmly than how she felt. "Your father loves you very much. We both do."

Her horror intensified when her son raised his head from her robes and looked into her face. Albus was six years old - young, innocent, untouched by a cruel world, forever trusting in the words of parents. Why then, could she read disbelief in Albus's blue eyes? What had happened to make him disbelieve her?

"What made you think that?" she whispered.

"Thom," whimpered Albus, tired of keeping the secret.

"Is Thom your friend… your invisible friend?" she murmured, more to herself than to Albus.

Albus stood up, still sniffing. "I hate him. I never want to see him again," he said.

Maria's hand clutched tightly at his shoulder. "You tell him to go away then, Albus," she said, pulling him back to her.

Suddenly, for the first time, Maria found that she was afraid of an invisible boy.

A/N: Great. Now Albus has psychological problems and he's only six. Poor kid.

(1) - HINT: Geraint was a knight of the Round Table. Unferth was a character in the tale of Beowulf. They say a good deal about what my Aberforth is going to be like.