A/N: I don't own Harry Potter.
Albus Dumbledore POV:
Before I knew it, I was gasping for breath.
Sobbing into my departed sister's tattered cloak.
Clinging to her limp and lifeless body.
I couldn't imagine ever letting go.
I could barely hear Aberforth's words of consolation.
Soon the warmth from her body faded, leaving a cold and motionless shell.
I slackened my grip on her, laying the body gently on the ground.
Tears had blurred my vision, and I wiped them away ignoring the stinging.
Aberforth was standing above me, his form casting a shadow over Arianna and I.
When I looked around you were nowhere to be seen.
You had fled from the scene of the crime.
The place where my dear sister had been murdered.
I had no idea who it was.
It could've been either of you, with the spells flying so precariously.
I'd never be able to forgive myself.
It was completely my fault.
I had been the one dueling with you.
I had the chance to stop you two, but I didn't.
Three days after her death, we had a funeral.
Whether you had showed up or not, I didn't notice.
But what I do remember is how Aberforth blamed it all on me.
In front of Arianna's coffin, we had a fistfight.
He broke my nose.
I didn't even mind it, much.
What I did mind was that Abe had disgraced my sister's memory.
I was suffocated in a cloud of regret, wishing tat I could change the past.
The following days, you and I became more distant.
You always said that you were "too busy" to talk to me.
What I wanted was to discuss what would happen now.
What would happen between us.
I wanted to talk, but you wouldn't listen.