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Chapter 23: Aberforth and Albus
"Are you here to expel me?"
It was the first Friday of the month and the Deschamp household smelled sharply of peppermint and salt. Already Willa and Alicio had started to wash down all of the doors in a blend of peppermint oil and soaked peppermint tea, a fine layer of salt and crushed basil dusting the door stoops.
"If you're going to bring in bad luck don't bother stepping over my doorstep," Willa said sourly, glaring at the lanky, silver-haired wizard, his robes a dazzling silver that almost seemed to shimmer to blue. By contrast, the man standing next to him seemed dour and a bit gloomy if one was being honest.
The Dumbledore brothers shared few similarities and even fewer words as the common tongue seemed to do very little in way of an understanding between the two. While Albus had always seemed to gain popularity and acclaim every which way he went, Aberforth drew the opposite. He was scorned by common wizards and gossiped about by higher wizards. He didn't particularly like the company of either so the loss wasn't a particularly painful one. Unable to read and barely able to speak a full sentence, the papers had proclaimed when his brother had grown in popularity. According to the gossip, all of the wit had gone to his brother and sister when the universe had written them into existence.
None of that had ever truly concerned him though. He had lived with those dark spots for much too long to think of them as little more than part of his everyday attire.
What did concern him was currently standing silently by a long table just inside of the side door that they had found themselves being led to by a rather peckish duck. Or was it a goose?
"I can assure you, Mrs. Deschamp, that we aren't coming with even a speck of muddy weather." Albus Dumbledore's eyes lit on a stack of lemon lavender cakes stacked high at the center of the table, a pitcher of something pink and sweet looking right beside. "Oh. Cookies."
Clara stared silently across the suddenly cramped feeling kitchen, her eyes sharp little pin-pricks through the silvery curtain of her hair. She looked unreasonably worn - a bit rumpled from a long journey and pale - too pale - from too many unresolved aspects of her life. Around her striking eyes, dark, purple circles had formed, making the strange golden hue of her eyes turn into an almost grotesque oddity. She was an odd little creature to be sure but somehow all obscurals were. Aberforth and Albus had an intimate understanding of this fact.
A gloomy girl, just as frail as her sister, the fathomless black of her dress seeming to leech whatever little color was left in her skin stepped silently from the shadows of a connecting hallway. This girl held a bit more of her mother in the fine lines of her cheekbones and nose, all slim and elegant where Clara's were blunt and rounded. Her eyes shone a striking emerald beneath the dark curls that framed her face. There was something about her - maybe the way that those eyes seemed to almost look through the two brothers like they were nothing but a book's paperback cover - that made Albus' lips curl into a familiar smile, his eyes twinkling. Aberforth knew the expression well, something that he knew Albus had acquired a long time ago like a mask that he pulled on whenever something unnerved him.
Aberforth had no such expression. His face was decidedly bare, unable to turn and churn into anything other than what he was feeling.
It was precisely this reason why Clara sat next to him, her eyes sparking with a bit of curiosity. Aberforth watched her with open wariness, his body slipping back a bit in his chair as if he were trying to get away from a particularly wild animal. There was a familiarity to Aberforth's face in the rounded curve of his nose, the striking blue of his eyes, and the long tangled mess of his hair and beard. He looked…
"Who are you?" Clara inquired, her eyes ticking between Aberforth and Albus like she already knew the answer but was too polite to make the leap.
Albus' lips parted, a moment from giving a perfectly pleasant response, Clara was sure but a low snort cut through the air. Annabelle had sat down in a seat at the head of the table, her head tipped to the side with a slim, deadly smile on her face. "Aberforth Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore's brother." Her eyes slid to her sister scornfully. "You already knew that, sister."
Clara had already known that - or at least had guessed. But she also knew that it wasn't polite to assume. She shrugged instead, offering Annabelle a smile with an eye roll.
Albus' eyes narrowed a fraction on the dark-haired girl, that pleasant smile still in place. He had only met a few diviners in his time and had grown accustomed to the eccentricities of Professor Trelawney who predicted deaths like meal orders. Annabelle Descamp was a completely different variation of divinator and was currently staring at him with the oddest expression on her face, her eyes unreadable. "That's right. Your mother and father told me that you were a rather prolific divinator in France."
Willa's eyes cut over worriedly as her youngest daughter's snort bounced off the brick walls with alarming volume. "It doesn't take a scrying glass to read, Professor Dumbledore. Aphrodite told me yesterday that you would be stopping by and I decided to take the time to read up on your family." Dumbledore suddenly became uncomfortably aware of what expression she was wearing, her eyes sliding between the two brothers with frightening severity. "You have a rather… colorful history."
Clara watched as the color in Aberforth's face slipped away, his body shifting uncomfortably. It was clear that whatever history her sister was mentioning was decidedly painful for both of the men but particularly this one.
"Annabelle," Clara reprimanded softly and the two sisters shared a long look before the youngest relaxed a bit in her seat, properly caged for the moment. But there was a keenness that slipped into the eldests' eyes as she looked between the two brothers. Annabelle wouldn't have mentioned anything if it didn't have to do with her current situation. Another issue was the fact that Aphrodite had informed her of the visit. Her eyes slid back to her sisters, catching the silent affirmation in them, a slim brow tipping up as Clara tried to unravel the puzzle her sister had left her with. Why would Aphrodite concern herself with the visits of the Dumbledores?
"Who wants lunch?" Her mother's falsely chipper tone came from the kitchen stove her father moving silently beside his wife as they made quick work of a few small sandwiches and soup.
Dumbledore's smile had grown decidedly tight. "I think just in time, Mrs. Deschamp."
The look that Clara's mother gave him was an expression of great sympathy that could only come from the knowledge that thing could and more than likely would be getting far worse.
It was only after the plates and bowls had been taken away from the table, bubbles frothing from the sink and coffee and tea steaming happily at the center of the table next to the now half-empty cookie display that Alicio finally allowed anyone to talk of business. The whole lunch he had been deftly diverting, changing subjects and coughing animatedly in open protest to even the mention of school or obscurals. It was rather amusing watching him kick his sister so many times that she had eventually screamed at him to quit it which had solidly stopped all pretenses of civility between the two for the rest of the dinner.
"You'll wash the rest of the doors," Clara heard her father whisper to her sister. " And perform the cleaning for the windows as well."
Traditions ran rather thick in the houses of pure-bloods. Although most families had given up the old blessings that had slipped into the hands of modern practicing muggle witches and wizards, the Deschamps still washed their doors to endorse a new month of prosperity, good luck and protection. Her mother still recited blessings over her crops and animals. Her father still sometimes walked through the forest on particularly windy, stormy days to cleanse himself. It was why Annabelle still prayed to the old gods and it was why Clara still kept fresh plants in her room to catch curses before they got to her.
Annabelle's head bowed slightly and at Clara's concerned stare she turned to softly speak to their father and mother. "I'm sorry. It was inappropriate to yell."
Her father's big hand came out to pat his daughter's much smaller one, her mother reaching forward to grab the tea and pour Annabelle a cup. Clara felt a small smile curl her lips at the display, the odd, cold part of herself that she had felt dim in the last months of being away from her family, lighting once more. It was good to be home again. Even under the circumstances.
"I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore for the…" Her mother's brows furrowed, trying and failing to find a way to describe the brothers' odd introduction to the Deschamp household. Her smile faltered briefly before she decidedly to tactically change the subject. "What did you come by for?"
Annabelle resisted the urge to point out that they all knew that the reason they were here was because of Clara. Clara who had always been quiet, sweet to a fault, controlled to breaking, had finally snapped. She had destroyed half a wing of Hogwarts and had almost killed a whole classroom of her peers.
Clara could feel the hot press of eyes on her, her gaze sliding adamantly to the sprigs of lavender hanging in little bundles from a drying rack in the kitchen.
"Have you come to expel me?"Her voice sounded oddly detached, even to her own ears. She wondered what would happen to her. Surely there were witches and wizards that hadn't finished their schooling? Where did they work? How odd it felt to be considering that when only a week before she had been staging up most nights to study for her O.W.L.s.
"No. Merlin, no." At Dumbledore's sharp chuckle, Clara's eyes snapped to him. His eyes stared across the table at her, the amethyst tying his beard into a neat bundle, glinting dully in the light. "You're a rather promising student, Clara. Professor Sprout has already been in my office 5 times since you've left along with Keela and a few-"
"Keela?!" Clara's whole body vibrated with the name, her body slipping a bit forward in her chair. Her skin prickled with a frightening combination of hope and fear. "Is she alright? How - How-?"
White brows tipped up in obvious surprise. "No one informed you? Miss McKinnon was the first to come dashing into my office after… well, after your…" He pulled at the cuffs of his robes, an oddly uncomfortable gesture.
Aberforth's eyes snapped to the silver-haired girl, intently waiting for her reaction.
"After I slipped into my obscurus," Clara stated bluntly. Her parent's flinched back, going a shade paler. It hadn't been stated so plainly before to them, the letters and calls from the school dancing around the word like they were stepping around thickets. Clara's throat moved as she swallowed, looking slightly embarrassed as she caught the wide-eyed expressions on everyone's face. "What?" She asked defensively, slipping a bit back into herself. "That's what happened. That's what I am. I'm an obscural. I have an obscurus-"
"Darling, no-" Willa started, looking halfway to tears.
Alicio's face has smoothed into a quietly sad expression. In his days as an Auror, he had come across obscurals before - all of them much younger than his daughter. That had been why… that had been why he had thought the wand had been working. He had thought that after the twelfth birthday that a witch's magic would settle. That had been the only reason he had kept her with that wand… His fingers curled around his wife's.
"You denying what I am won't help me." Clara's voice broke a bit, her lips trembling a moment before she collected herself, her face going blank as she pushed aside whatever emotions were about to overcome her. "You giving me a wand to control my magic won't get rid of the fact that my magic has reached a dangerous point." Her eyes slid to Dumbledore, sudden fear lighting the amber. "I can't control it. I've tried - I've tried but it's… I can't ."
"I'll do it." Every eye turned to the otherwise silent man, his eyes running over the silver-haired witch with an odd sort of sadness. The desperation in Clara's voice had reminded him of another desperation that he had heard so long ago - the aching plea of a boy that was dying in much the same way as Clara would if no one stepped in. "I'll teach her."
Albus stared at his brother for a moment longer. He had suggested teaching the girl a month ago and been flatly denied every week since. Even after years of cold winters followed by hot summers and all the variations in between, Aberforth's wounds were fresh. He remembered his son and sister like they had passed yesterday - some days it even felt like they had been gone for only moments. Like he would walk into a room and find darkness and wild magic in the place of what he knew they had been before.
Now, hearing his brother's sudden change made Albus pause, made the well of guilt that he always had deep inside of him boil up once more.
"Are you sure?" The question slipped from Albus before he could even think about it, concern softening his voice.
"No," Alicio suddenly growled, his tawny eyes lighting to a frightening yellow hue. His eyes looked so much like Clara's in that moment, only seconds before she transformed that she stiffened. "No. You're not going to come into my house and offer a way out to my daughter and then decide to take it away. You already promised me once that you would take care of her-"
"Alicio-" Dumbledore started, his face stilling in shame and surprise.
Alicio's broad shoulders shivered, emotions rolling through him like lightning across a dark horizon. "You promised to take care of her and you failed . If you're guessing or hoping then I won't accept whatever offer you're coming here with. Not if it's not for sure. Not if you can't take care of her-"
"My son-" Alicio stopped abruptly at the broken word, Aberforth's head bent a bit toward the table as the words quivered out into the thick air. He didn't look up as he continued. "My son was an obscural. He… I wasn't able to help him in time. And my sister - our sister was one as well."
The words hung heavy in the air for a moment, a conflicting flurry of emotions swirling inside of Clara. Albus' face had gone decidedly blank.
"It seems like you don't have a good track record," Willa murmured, her words somehow infinitely sharper because they came from someone with such a soft way to her. In many ways, the white-haired witch was soft. She enjoyed all of the delicacies that came from being a house-witch and potion maker. She enjoyed her pastures and plants and doing her nails and lashes. But when it came to her daughters, she was anything but. It was why she had shoved aside all of her trepidation with the doctors had suggested giving Clara her wand. Her emotions didn't matter. Her opinions weren't relevant. What mattered was her daughter's safety. "I presume that both have lost to their obscurus side? Or am I wrong?"
"My brother was able to prolong Credence's…" Albus' face twisted, pain lancing through his usually twinkling eyes. "Transformation. Our sister's was… When it happened information on obscurals was still very hard to come by. We didn't understand what was happening to her until it was too late."
Willa's face went hard, her eyes flashing to a mossy green. "I won't bet my daughter's life. That won't happen."
A sudden chill burst through Clara's chest. She had known that there was a chance that this thing - whatever was rolling around inside her - might eat her alive. But to hear it put so plainly - to have two other's mentioned so starkly, their fates laid out in front of her -
Her words scratched across the room, feeling like the lead tip of a pencil being dragged across a blank sheet of paper. "How many have survived?"
"I-" Albus' mouth shut, his eyes slipping to her parent's before he answered.
Alicio shook his head sharply. "I don't think-"
"What you thought has gotten me to this point." Anger, hot and searing burned up Clara's throat and in her gut, something shifted, claws digging into her guts. Across the room the lavender bundles swayed ominously, wind whipping through the hallways. The white-haired witch shut her eyes tightly, trying to draw back some semblance of control. Both Alicio and Willa flinched their daughter's anger a palpable creature - one that they had unknowingly nurtured beneath their own house. In trying to protect her, they had done the opposite and that guilt wasn't something that they would ever be able to forgive themselves for.
Clara's shoulder eventually wilted, guilt and anger swirling a confusing harmony inside of her. "I'm sorry," she eventually whispered. "I-"
Her eyes slipped to the thin swirls of wood decorating her table, the world suddenly wearing down on her. Annabelle's frail, thin fingers reached out beneath the table, curling warmly between Clara's.
Silence hung thickly between the family and Dumbledores, the latter of which very familiar with familial discontent.
"You're right to not trust us," Aberforth suddenly spoke up, his voice rough with conviction. His eyes searched out Willa and Alicio's, his expression one of unreasonable understanding. "Both of the people who I loved - who I tried to help - both of them were eventually consumed by their obscurus. But you won't find anyone with more understanding of this than me." There was a firm line of steel beneath the words, his voice shaking with it. "I have more experience with this than anyone else. I wasn't able to save my son but I was able to extend his life. I was able to buy him a few more months. That's more than anyone else has been able to do."
The truth chilled Clara to the very bone.
Albus finally spoke up again. "Obscurus' are usually recessive to their host. They come at random, unexpected moments. Most witches and wizards are overtaken in the first transformation. The fact that Miss Deschamp wasn't is already… remarkable." Clara wanted to laugh. She thought it was anything but. "This is her first transformation so… we have as good a chance as any to reverse this process."
There was a long moment of silence.
Clara's eyes slipped to her parents, waiting for their instruction.
"Clara - Clara darling…" Willa's eyes ticked to her husband nervously before forcing a smile and turning back to her daughter. "This is your decision."
Surprise shocked through her. The magnitude of this wasn't lost on her. Her eyes slid between her parents in a moment of confusion before drifting to Aberforth and his brother. What other option did she have? She could say no and risk taking the time to go and search out another solution.
"Will Mister Dumbledore-"
"Aberforth's fine," the older man interjected, looking uncomfortable at the mention of his last name.
Clara ignored that for now. "Will he be my only instructor?"
"No," Albus said, shaking his head. "Another wizard has some experience with obscurals and will also be visiting to give you a few lessons a week. Aberforth can't be here every day and we would like to see you back at Hogwarts this year."
This was news to her. There were only a few more months in the school year. The thought of going back ever was a surprise.
Clara thought it over for a moment longer before nodding. "If I don't see any progress within the next month, I'll have to think about looking somewhere else."
"Reasonable." A small smile spread across Dumbledore's face.
Clara's eyes slid back to the quieter brother, trying and failing to see her future.
"We'll start tomorrow," Aberforth said, his eyes hardening with resolve.
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