Hello! Welcome to the first story for Season 6 of the Quidditch League! Enjoy!
Team: Puddlemere United
Position: Chaser 1
Position Prompt: Write a genre you've never written before (Hurt/Comfort)
Optional Prompts: (word) homemade
Word Count: 1020
Beta-ed by: obscurialdefenseclub, desertredwolf, and JBrocks917. Thank you!
Black banners were hanging on the dull grey walls of the old building, and the heavy silence thickly blanketed the too still room. How could silence weigh so heavily?
Aberforth Dumbledore looked down sadly as they carried the open casket by, refusing to look at the lifeless body of his sister. Memories of his sister Ariana still flickered through his head like one of those new-fangled Muggle movies, black and white moving pictures. He might have snorted in a different situation. Wizards had had those for millenia.
"Thank you for being here today," said a man standing at a podium. He wore a long, sweeping black robe and looked much too bright and enthusiastic to be speaking at a funeral. "Ariana Dumbledore was an exceptional…"
Aberforth stopped listening after that. What would he know about his little sister? An exceptional person… Ariana was— had been so much more than that.
The man bowed and stood there for a moment, clearly expecting them to clap. He didn't care about Ariana at all. The only thing he cared about was the money and fame. Idiot. The man returned to his seat in utter silence.
After the ceremony, Albus approached Aberforth. His eyes were red. He isn't sorry, Aberforth thought. He's just acting. He was always good at that, after all.
"Aberforth," he said, "I am so sorry. It's —"
"You should be," Aberforth replied thickly, his anger bubbling up like hot magma, a furious, uncontrollable force. "It's all your fault."
"I—"
"Don't you see? You've been putting your obsession with an old children's book before your own sister! It's all 'Hallows, Hallows, Hallows' and 'Brilliant Gellert!'"
"Aberforth, just let me —"
"Why should I let you do anything? You killed our sister! You — killed — her!"
His fist shot forward before he knew what he was doing, and Albus staggered backwards, clutching his freely bleeding nose.
"Aberforth, please, I —"
But Aberforth didn't give him a chance to reply. He punched him hard, again and again, until that stupid man who had given the speech earlier pulled them apart, tutting.
"Boys ... boys!" he said, with his irritatingly cheerful expression. "There's no reason to fight, now…"
"Shut up!" yelled Aberforth, wheeling around to face him. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"
And with that, he turned and ran away from them, ignoring their shouted protests trailing after him. He didn't stop running until he reached his house, deliberately ignoring the window peeking into what had once been Ariana's room as he passed it. As he tore through the pasture gates, he bolted into the creaky homemade stable and buried himself in the small pile of hay in the corner, breathing in the comforting smell of the building.
Daisy nudged him with her horns, but he didn't look up. She nudged him again, refusing to go unacknowledged.
After a few minutes, he had the whole herd gathered around him. Grass (they were all named after their favorite foods) tried to roll him over with his hooves. Tin Can, Aberforth's personal favorite (though he didn't tell any of the others that) knew not to disturb him, and instead stood to the side, bleating softly.
When Aberforth still did not react to their insisting, they sat down beside him, the bells on their neck tinkling quietly.
Tin Can, Daisy, Grass, and all of his other goats seemed to bury him in their fur. The heat radiating from their bodies enveloped him snugly.
"Aberforth?"
He felt someone approach and looked up. It was Bathilda Bagshot, the kind young woman who lived across the road.
"I noticed you were feeling down," she said, "so I brought you some cookies. Homemade." She offered a plate piled high with a mountain of chocolate-chip treats. He took one for himself and broke another into pieces, giving it to the goats.
"Thank you," he said, biting into one. It was perfect, light and fluffy and sweet all at the same time.
"In my experience, cookies will lighten even the lowest of spirits," she said, sitting down next to him. "Tell me, what's the problem?"
"Hasn't your nephew told you?" he said bitterly. "Ariana's dead."
That shocked her into silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly. "I did wonder why Gellert left so suddenly…"
Instead of speaking, he ate another cookie. Tin Can ate the silver tray instead, which made Aberforth almost smile. Almost. He reached over and petted the goat's back.
Hay, Cardboard, and Albus' Trophies immediately crowded around him, all pushing each other for their own back rubs.
"Ariana was a bright girl," Bathilda continued over the goats' squabbling. "The world has lost a wonderful person. "
"'Wonderful' is an understatement," Aberforth muttered. "Ariana was… everything." He turned away from her and tossed the goats another cookie, and they abandoned their fight for back rubs and began another fight for the last cookie.
"Well," she said suddenly, standing up and brushing off her skirt, "I can see you don't want to talk to little old me. I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything at all, dear. I'm just next door." As she turned to leave, Aberforth called after her.
"Bathilda?"
"Yes?" she asked, surprised.
"Thank you," he said after a moment's hesitation.
She smiled. "Of course, dear." And with that, she exited the pasture.
Aberforth sighed and stood up, brushing past Trousers' horns as he approached the goat fight. He picked up the sweet cause of the quarrel and broke it into small pieces, distributing them among the flock.
As he watched his goats happily gobble up their treats, he smiled, actually smiled, and thought that everything might be okay. He still had people who loved him, and though Ariana could not be here anymore, he still would keep her in his heart.
He took a shaky, deep breath and felt his shoulders relax. He hadn't even realized they had been tense. In this moment, he began to feel at peace; for as long as he remembered her, everything would be alright.
She would live, at least in him, forever.
