Chapter 12: Pre(inter)lude

September 6, 1998

An old man held a pocket watch and watched as the hands ticked slowly around the face, marking each passing minute. The watch was ancient, almost as old as him, but that was only indicated with numerous scratches lining the glass and one large dent in the side. Only he knew the exact age of it, though. He'd gotten the watch a hundred years before, right before his fifteenth birthday, the last birthday present he'd ever received from his mother.

The reason, though, why Aberforth Dumbledore held the pocket watch up in a sitting room above a bar wasn't the fact that he was dreading his 115th birthday in a day. No, he had been dreading the coming day at one o'clock in the afternoon for almost one hundred years. Not one day had gone by since he had learned of what happened that he hadn't thought of September 7, 1998: the day that Harry Potter- the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and now the Savior- would disappear.

Well, maybe disappear. Aberforth wasn't sure what would happen when Harry would slip back in time, one hundred years. The only reason why he was so nervous lied in the fact that he didn't have a very good concept of time. Would anything change the instant Harry left or would all remain the same? He had no idea. The concept of time-travel confused him and he wasn't sure if the time was still the same as the past Harry had left. He was also scared of what would happen when Harry returned or if he would return. Could he have died during the way back? When would he come back, anyway, a year from the moment he left, before he left? Aberforth literally had no idea and he felt confused.

He sighed, tapping the side of the watch with the dent against his chair.

"One hour, Ariana," Aberforth said, glancing at his watch again anxiously and then at the portrait of a young blonde girl above his fireplace. "I mean, one hour until September 7th. Then I have to wait thirteen more hours, but you know what-" he paused and frowned at the same time the portrait of his sister did. She knew that her favorite brother was dreading something, and he was, obviously, so much so that he had shut down the Hog's Head hours earlier than normal.

Aberforth was a tough guy, tough enough, but there were some things he just had to think about for a while without distractions. He rarely closed down the Hog's Head. In fact, the last time he did was the night after his older brother's funeral, when most witches and wizards had already left Hogsmeade and mourned the one who they regarded as the "Greatest Wizard of the Age." Aberforth always scoffed at Albus's given title. Ridiculous, even if he was brilliant. At the time, Albus's death had sunk in finally, and he just had to close it down. Right now, he was nervous and remembering too much. He was so distracted that he couldn't be distracted by anyone else.

Aberforth really didn't regret much at all. Actually, he only had a few regrets in his life. Two of them involved the only people he had ever closed down the Hog's Head for: Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. The regret involved the time a hundred years and three weeks ago.

He could remember that day better than any other day in his life, only because it was the biggest mistake he'd ever made in his whole life, the one mistake that made him swear everyday that he wouldn't meddle in things that weren't meant to be meddled in. That had always been his reason to Albus about why he wouldn't become more involved in the war that had ended just months before. Aberforth felt so much regret about the past, especially dealing with Harry Potter. He physically couldn't become more involved than with only few instances that he just had to just because of what he had done.

He told Albus frequently before he died that meddling in with Voldemort and Harry Potter was a bad idea. But, he'd never told Albus the reason why he didn't want to meddle in things, of course. When it came to Harry Potter, the boy was a defiant fool, even if he was loyal and he could understand why Albus trusted him.

But, that day, Aberforth made a terrible mistake because he had meddled in Albus and Harry's dealings. He shouldn't have tried to get involced in them again, right before Harry defeated Voldemort. He only realized that mistake later, that he told Harry to give up what Albus had in store for him. Though Aberforth knew the boy wasn't going to die, by instinct he had to warn him because he knew his brother more than anyone else and Aberforth could remember countless times over the year Harry was in the past that he had warned him about Albus.

Merlin, he hated thinking about that day, though. He could remember it all too well.

"Ariana? Do you want to hear a story?" Aberforth said, reaching across the table for his old, black leather journal Albus had given him for his fifteenth birthday. He flipped through it until he found a drawing, one he did of Harry after the incident with Alice Hornby and the detention with the Grindylows.

"Oh, yes," the portrait said sweetly, her bright blue eyes focusing on her brother.

"It's about a boy," he said, leaning back in his chair and glancing at his watch one more time. Five minutes had passed. "He wasn't much older than you, and he made a terrible mistake."

"My God," Gordon Salisbury said early one morning. "Dumbledore, stop leaving your clothes all over the place. I just slipped on one of your putrid socks."

Aberforth tried not to sneer at the word Putrid.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically, looking up from tying his shoelaces. "I'll be sure to put down a magical barrier next time so my socks don't end up under your feet next time."

Gordon laughed, but not good-naturedly. It was commonly known in the fifth years that Aberforth and Gordon hated each other, actually, really, everyone hated Aberforth, but he could never figure out why.

"Would you even know the spell for that?" Gordon asked just as sarcastically.

"No," he said, standing and grabbing his school bag. He noticed his three other roommates look between each other, but none of them said anything.

"Your brother probably would, why not you?"

Aberforth grabbed the door handle, then turned to glare at the other boy. "Do I look like my brother? Please do not assume I know a spell my brother knows. He knows some mad stuff."

"You're dumbing yourself down, you know that, right?"

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not, trust me," but he chose not to elaborate at all. Instead, he left the room and when he got down to the Common Room, he spotted Albus talking to a seventh year girl. His eyes twinkled and he smiled as the girl told him something, practically batting her eyelashes at him. Aberforth scoffed at that girl's ill attempt. Albus was not interested that. His interests laid only in magic and theories and being brilliant.

Not fair, he caught himself saying in his head. He thought about Alice Hornby again and how Albus said, "I'm sorry," the night before in the most trifling way possible when he mentioned his failed attempt with Alice.

Aberforth felt his face blush as he thought of that again. That had been most embarrassing.

He looked at his brother again. He only cared about brilliance. He cared about nothing else, not even his own sister. Aberforth, on the other hand, couldn't care less about being smart or powerful. In fact, he could distinctly remember never being jealous of Albus like he felt at the moment.

There was a lot that Aberforth could have looked up to Albus to, but for some reason, he just didn't care. Even when they were younger and Albus outdid him in everything, he didn't mind much.

He could remember one day when Aberforth was about five, they had gone down to the creek on Mould-on-the-Wold. Albus had picked up a piece of bark, closed his eyes real tight, and then with a pop! the piece of bark changes shape, transfigured into a wooden toy boat. Aberforth only was creative enough to skip rocks across the shallow water, but he had fun with it.

Albus was powerful from a young age, able to do complex magic at seven years old, always wrote his letters and read what he was told to read and much more. Aberforth only liked to tend to the sheep his parents kept and playing games with his sister. While Albus was fascinated by everything, Aberforth couldn't have cared less.

What he did care about, though, was life. Instead of transfiguring bark into boats or dandelions into marigolds, Aberforth often chased after rabbits, just to hold it, and feel the soft fur or else feed the goats. He cared about his sister and his family and animals. His favorites classes were Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures because he could take care of plants and animals. That excited him. Albus only liked Transfiguration and that was too abstract for Aberforth to understand fully.

That was why it was so unfair, that when Aberforth liked people, Albus was the one that got to talk to a pretty girl, who actually wanted to flirt with the one guy that didn't care for it at all.

As Aberforth left the portrait hole, he wanted to get his mind off that. It was just making him angry. Instead, he wondered about the new teacher, Merrythought's assistant. But, of course, quickly, that turned back to Albus because his brother was interested in Potter.

There was something very strange about Mr. Potter. And Aberforth knew that Albus was only interested in him because he was obviously powerful. Potter was hiding something. He was reluctant to say much and he couldn't have lived anywhere but England, his accent was too strong. He was less dapper than anyone he'd seen before, like he'd grown up in very informal setting. His teaching style, too, was less formal. He didn't seem so set on memorizing theories, but on experience instead.

But, that was about all Aberforth could think up about him, besides the fact that he seem beaten, scarred on his face and hands and almost like he'd been malnourished for a while. And that, somehow, he was already familiar with Albus and Aberforth. He could remember what Merrythought and him were saying before he'd walked into the classroom the night before: "Do you know Aberforth where you're from?"

"Sort of." Potter had said, Aberforth only catching his name. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, listening closely.

"But you've met him?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Does he still act the same way?"

"He's still pretty stubborn."

"What about Albus?"

"He's, er… a little calmer, I guess."

"He's quite energetic now, isn't he?" Merrythought said.

"Yeah."

"Are you not comfortable talking about him?"

"Er-"

That was when Aberforth decided to enter the classroom. He actually tried hard not to think about all that, maybe it was nothing, but it seemed like more. Where was the 'from' Merrythought was talking about?

The portrait hole sung open behind him. He glanced behind him and when he realized who it was, he turned down a corridor to get away from his brother who now trailed a few feet behind him. He stood, leaning against the wall, right when Albus stopped in Aberforth's view.

He was still talking to the girl. "I'll see you tonight," she said, her voice sweet. "For my transfiguration tutoring?"

"Of course," Albus said, nodding curtly. "Have a good day, Suzie."

Aberforth caught her smile widely, then, turn on her heel with a small bounce and walk away.

Once her footsteps disappeared, Albus shook his head with a sigh. See, he didn't care at all about the girl. He was frustrated! That was a frustrated sigh!

That just made Aberforth angry and he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, but Albus was too fast. He spun around and the spell deflected off a barrier he'd put up with only a wave of his hand.

Aberforth growled.

"What in the world, Aberforth?" Albus said, his eyes piercing. "What have you been playing at?"

Aberforth only gave a small shrug and spun around, stalking down the corridor. Why did he have to be the one who had the Albus as a brother? Couldn't he have been an only child?

Aberforth went the long way down to the Great Hall, taking the longest corridors possible, just to avoid Albus.

When he did get down to the Great Hall, Albus wasn't even there. He stared around for a second, thankful for that, and then grabbed a couple pieces of toast from a basket. He didn't even sit down. He had a couple potions to tend to.

As he made his way down, though, he heard something.

"Exactly," said a voice in the first classroom on the right. He stopped, recognizing his brother's voice. Immediately, he wondered what his brother was doing down there, in the dungeons, when Aberforth knew for a fact that he didn't have Potions until much later in the day.

"He doesn't care about equality," Albus continued on as Aberforth stepped to the side and went into the boys bathroom across the hall. He could still hear him. "As long as he gets what he wants, he'll be happy. That is a destructive way of looking at the world, thinking only about what you want. When I become something, I'd do what is best for the Wizarding world."

"Yeah?"

Aberforth blinked, somehow not at all surprised to hear Potter's voice there, as well. He didn't say anything else, though, and he seemed just as enthused as Aberforth felt at Albus's last words. Those were horrible.

"What else did you say to him?"

"I told him that I care more about experience than what I learn in a books. I didn't even take the N.E.W.T.s and I'm still an Auror. I mean, I didn't tell him I was an Auror. I can't remember exactly what I said."

Aberforth choked on a bite of toast he'd just took a bite of. Potter was an Auror? No wonder he looked so battle scarred, but, wait, didn't he say he was 18? That was way too young, and anyway, how had he not taken the N.E.W.T.s? There was something really strange about him.

"How did you manage to become an Auror if you didn't take your tests?" Aberforth could have wondered the same question.

"I… er, well, I'd rather not say."

Well, that just frustrated Aberforth, and apparently Albus, too, because Aberforth swore he heard Albus groan.

"Why are you so angry right now?" Potter asked.

There was a short pause. Had Albus been angry? "My brother." Aberforth choked on another bite of toast, surprised somehow. "Do you have any siblings, Harry?"

"No."

"Then you wouldn't understand. Aberforth can be infuriating." A pain went through the back of Aberforth's throat. "Last night he tried to hit me when I did nothing wrong. This morning was even worse. He was lurking in a corridor off the Gryffindor Tower and he tried to hex me! I don't understand what goes on in his head."

"I don't think he had a very good day yesterday," Potter said. Was he actually defending him?

"Of course he didn't," Albus said. "He tried to ask Alice Hornby if she would go to Hogsmeade with him. She turned him down, of course. I don't know why he bothers. There are more important problems than girls."

Aberforth dropped half the toast he had left. How could he tell him that? What would possess him to tell something private like that? He felt the blood in his face drain in shock from that, so embarrassed that he couldn't think properly.

"You're very stubborn, too, you realize." Aberforth caught what Albus was saying again, still wondering how Albus could ruin his trust like that. Well, actually, when he really thought about it that was just like Albus to do. "You refuse to tell me anything about yourself."

"I can't say anything. If you knew anything, then, well, the future wouldn't be the same."

Wait, the future? Aberforth thought. He couldn't be a seer.

"You do you know when you say that, it just makes me even more curious."

"Yeah, I know."

"The curiosity leads me to believe that you're important to the future." Important to the future? That couldn't be what Potter was hiding, or could it? Albus usually wasn't wrong. "I can't believe you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s. What did Professor Black say to that?"

"He said I could take them if I wanted to, but I don't think-"

"You should," he said. "They're important."

"Will they honestly be good for me to take now? I mean, the time stamp will say 1898. I'm from 1998. How will that help me?"

Aberforth's face drained with the rest of the blood it had left. Potter had to be mistaken. Had to. There was no way that he could be from 1998. That was impossible.

But, when Aberforth really thought about it, his accent was off and he did seem like he'd come from a entirely different England, based on his manner. And, in a way, what Aberforth had heard the day before actually, weirdly, matched that, where Potter was from. Could that possibly mean the future, a century in the future? He wondered if only Merrythought and Albus knew where he was from.

Obviously Black didn't know, based on what the two were talking about.

But, Albus knew. A seventeen year old knew, one who thought he had to be involved in every important matter because he was the Headboy and the smartest wizard at the school.

Albus knew and Potter trusted him, someone who was younger than him.

Aberforth stared blankly at the door for a few minutes, forgetting to listen to their conversation. How was it fair that Albus knew, or, well, the most important question was, did Potter know Albus where he was from. The conversation with Merrythought came back to him. He was asked if he knew the Dumbledores and he said yes.

Of course Potter knew him, enough to trust him to keep the secret.

"I'd better go. Class starts in five minutes."

Aberforth's thoughts ceased. He leaned in closer to the door.

"Right. Me too," Potter said. The door of the classroom across the hall squeaked open and then closed. He could hear a pair of heels clicking against stone and a softer pair mixing with Albus's footsteps. Eventually, they were both gone.

Aberforth, still white in the face, slid down to the floor once he realized how stiff he had been standing.

Harry Potter was from the future and Albus knew, but Black didn't, thought Aberforth. Black, who hired him, didn't know.

Suddenly, a feeling erupted in his chest, a way to get back at Albus for telling Potter about his crush, for being so arrogant, and for being able to do whatever he wanted. Aberforth resented all that and Albus thought of himself as superior to all.

Aberforth smiled and stood up, brushing off his robes, and then went off to Potions, wondering when to do what he was planning.

The old man paused in his story for a second, glancing up at Ariana with soft, blue eyes.

"What happened next?" Ariana asked, her blue eyes matching her brother's.

Aberforth felt a pain in his chest and shook his head, bringing his large fingers up to his temple.

"A terrible thing," he muttered, but didn't go on. Instead, he picked up his watch again. Thirty minutes until midnight, it read.

"Brother," Ariana said. "Tell me?"

The thought of it constricted his voice. Meddling, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say that word out loud. He hated what that meant for his fifteen-year-old self's future.

"Please?" Ariana pleaded, her eyes bright. "I like this story."

"Why do you?" he asked, glancing up at her. "There's so much eavesdropping."

She smiled sweetly, almost like she was ignoring his statement. "I like your stories."

Aberforth picked up his journal again, for he had cast it aside halfway through, and flipped through the pages again. He stopped on a page with a drawing of a tank. He'd animated it, so the two figures of the grindylows were quarrelling, pushing and shoving and trying to bite each other. Neither one of the water demons ever won; it was a continuous brawl, never to finish.

"Please, brother?"

He glanced at his pocket watch again. Only two minutes had passed.

"I have to warn you, though," he said, looking straight into her eyes. "It's not a happy ending."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Aberforth knew that Albus had a class before lunch, Herbology, actually, so when Aberforth got out of class, he waited outside, watching as the seventh year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs made their way up the lawn. Albus, being the tallest, was easiest to spot with Elphias striding along next to him.

Aberforth tugged on the strap of his bookbag, and with a smirk, made his way toward his brother.

"Hi, Albus," Aberforth said kindly.

"Ab," he said, glancing at Elphias next to him, his eyebrows raised.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice polite.

Albus's eyes narrowed and pierced Aberforth, but he said nothing besides, "Of course. Excuse me, Elphias."

Aberforth smirked as Albus watched Elphias walk away with the rest of his class mates. Then, he straightened his features and looked up to his brother. Aberforth hoped he would grow more. He wasn't too far from Albus's height.

"What is it?" Albus asked as they walked slowly down the path leading to the lake. "I have to say, you're acting very strange today."

"Am I?" Aberforth asked.

"Very much so," he told him, his eyes still narrowed.

Aberforth shook his head, looking away from his brother's gaze. He knew what Albus could do.

"Look, Ab-" he said, stopping.

"No, you look," Aberforth said, pulling himself up to his full height, since he realized he had been slouching somewhat, but that was normal for him to slouch some. He was so close to eyelevel when he stood straight. So close. "I know there's something odd going on."

"Odd?" Albus asked as if there wasn't anything at all wrong, but Aberforth wasn't buying it. He'd heard him and Potter.

"Yes, weird. There's something odd about Potter! And no one knows the truth, except you. You think you can get away with it, but you can't."

"I haven't any-"

"Yes, you do. Potter's from the future!"

Aberforth had no tact, none at all and he knew it, but might as well get to the point early on, rather than playing games like Albus was.

Albus's eyes pierced him, but he wasn't able to hide how nonplused he was. "You're going mad-"

Aberforth let out a, "Ha!" and said, "No, you're the one going mad if you think that. I heard you talking to him this morning and he said he was from 1998! That's a hundred years in the future! Don't tell me I'm going mad."

Albus glanced around him for a second, making sure no one was around, and then stepped closer to Aberforth.

"Don't tell anyone, you got that?" he said sternly, staring right at him, his eyes more transfixed than before. "Don't you dare."

"Don't act like you're my father," Aberforth said. "Because last time I checked, you were my brother."

"I'm as good as, seeing as he's dead!"

Aberforth shook his head. "You're so full of yourself, you know that? You need to stop."

Albus shook his head, then turned on his heel and started up the path again. "I don't want to discuss this."

Aberforth resisted reaching for his wand. "Don't you think you should be more cautious to let me go when I know what Potter is?"

Albus turned again and surveyed Aberforth for a second. Aberforth could only feel triumph. "You wouldn't tell anyone."

"How do you know?" Aberforth said, smirking.

"You wouldn't."

Aberforth titled his head up, still smiling. "How do you know?" he repeated. "Come on, I know Black would never approve of that. He'd ship Potter off to Azkaban if he knew. We can't have a time-traveler here, can we, when he knows what will happen. And you talking to him… You wouldn't want to ruin the future."

"This is the future," Albus said, shaking his head. "This most likely was meant to happen, you realize. The future probably is still the same way as it should be.

"That's what you think to cover up what you're trying to do. I know you, Albus. You're trying to get information about the future, aren't you?" When he refused to answer or even look at him, Aberforth thought for a second. Maybe he needed to change his direction. "But, how do you know any of that for sure, that the future will still be the same?"

"I've read time travel theories," Albus said, clasping his hands behind his back, but he left it at that.

"So, if I just happen to let slip to Black or even Garside- because we all know he's friendly with Black- who Potter is, then that'll be the future that it was meant to be?"

Albus's face remained fixed, but still, Aberforth swore his face lost some of its color. "Aberforth, I don't understand the hostility you've been showing the last two days. These are empty threats and you know it. What are you trying to avenge me for?"

Aberforth couldn't stop himself and, his face blushing, yelled out, "You told Potter about what happened with Alice! That's not fair. I told you in confidence!"

Albus dropped his hands, surprised. "You're mad about that? Come on, Aberforth, schoolwork is so much more important for your-"

"Future, I know," he gruffed out. "It's not fair! I mean, that girl, Suzie, she was fainting at your feet and you don't give a da-"

"Language," Albus reprimanded, his eyes growing dark.

Aberforth huffed. "I know you don't care about gir-"

"You shouldn't care as much as you do," Albus said. "Ab, you're fifteen. Stop with the nonsense and focus on your O.W.L.s, all right? We'll discuss this later. I need to get something to eat. I only had pumpkin juice this morning."

He started to walk away again, leaving Aberforth standing there, fuming. But, then he turned back. "Please don't tell anyone about Harry. His secret has to remain hidden. He can't be found out."

Aberforth huffed as Albus turned again and continued up the pathway, back up to the castle. Aberforth, though, didn't follow him. Instead, he went down to the lake's edge and stared out toward the still water. He could imagine those Grindylows from the tank in detention, how they should have belonged in the lake instead. That was their home. He pulled out his journal and began to draw their violent behavior from the night before, being careful to get the details right.

Aberforth, really, felt frustrated. He couldn't win any battle with Albus, he knew that. His brother was able to show him up with words. But, Aberforth had free will, and Albus only said not to tell anyone. He didn't even make him promise him. He even said "please" for goodness sake.

His mind was already made up.

As he tapped his wand against the parchment, the Grindylows began to twist and jab each other continuously, never stopping. He smiled, proud of his artwork, and then stood up. He looked down at his feet for a flat rock, but saw a twig that had fallen from a tree to the side of the lake. He picked it up, tapped his wand against it, thinking hard about a boat, but it only remained a twig. Frustrated, he dropped it to the ground and stepped on it, breaking it in two.

At some point, he was going to Black. Someday. And convince him that what he was saying was true.

He could do that, couldn't he?

He huffed, of course he could. Of course.

Then, he made his way up to the castle, his mind completely set.

"And that's what he regretted," Aberforth said, talking to Ariana's portrait. "That he was so sure he could destroy his brother."

"Is that why it's an unhappy ending?" Ariana asked, her voice light.

"Yeah," he said, his voice gruff. "He shouldn't have meddled in Al's reasoning. He shouldn't have made up his mind so quickly."

"That wasn't the end, though, was it?" Ariana said.

Aberforth shook his head sadly, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly. "No, not at all. That was only the beginning."

Aberforth glanced down at his pocket watch again. As he fingered the dent in the side, he watched as the hand turned around the face. He waited, his breath batted as it landed on midnight. He closed his eyes tightly. Today was the day. There were still hours to wait for Potter to disappear, but the day had arrived, finally.

"There's so much more," Aberforth said sadly. "So much more. A hundred years worth of stories involving Al and Ab. Ab could have done so many things differently, you know."

"Like what?"

Aberforth bit his bottom lip, then once he realized what was happening in his head, he quickly cleared his throat, which came out as a gruff growl. He stood up and paced for a bit, then went to his window. From there, he could see the castle, only able to be seen from the light of the waning moon.

His brother still resided there, most likely just a skeleton, but still he was there. Aberforth could have done so much differently for his brother, but the events that had gone on were all controlled by how stupid he had been that year. Everyone's an idiot at fifteen, he could remember Potter saying during the summer they'd spent together in the past.

Like what, Ariana had asked.

He took in another breath. He pulled the curtains of the window shut. And he sat back in his chair, pulling his watch out one more time.

So many regrets, all caused because he his head had gotten too big to think he could defy his brother.

He hated what he had done.

Like what.

He took in another breath, thinking about the Grindylows again, how they continued to fight and fight and never resolve anything.

Finally, Aberforth answered her, his voice breaking.

"Everything, Ariana. I regret everything."

A/N: I meant to get this done a week ago, but… yeah, that didn't happen. Sorry about that. I'm done with mid-terms, though. So, yay.

This is the longest chapter so far, which I'm pretty proud of. Aberforth's point of view will be around again, I think, but not as much as Albus and Harry. Hopefully this chapter makes sense... Aberforth's motives are kind of complex.