Chapter 23: Heart Be Also

Albus couldn't move.

For the longest time, he sat outside in the garden, watching the two goats as they chewed grass or laid down on the flowers his mother had planted.

Once, Aberforth came out and sat on a small stool to milk them. He didn't seem as dedicated to it as normal, though. He seemed to only get a half a pile filled before he stood up, glared at Albus, and then went into the house again.

Albus had no idea why he'd glared at him, but he could hardly care.

He just felt completely numb, something that hadn't even hit him until that morning when he was laying awake in bed, sweating from a nightmare he could hardly remember anymore. He just knew there was a fight between him and Aberforth and he had the distinct feeling that Harry had died rather than his mother.

In a way, he was glad he couldn't remember it in detail, but it had been difficult to get to sleep after that.

It's the second day, he told himself as he stared at the goats more. You'll have nightmares. This happened when Father died.

He tried to reassure himself, but then all he could think about were those Dementors, how they had showed up in his dreams for a month after Percival had died. Elphias had been there for him, then, to calm him down after he woke up thrashing in his sleep as he tried so hard to run away from the Dementors, all crowded around Hogwarts. Everywhere he had turned there was a new Dementor, carrying his father's golden soul in their gastly hand.

He took in a deep breath, trying to shake those thoughts from his mind.

It was only when Aberforth called out to him that Elphias was there that he stood up. His knees almost gave out, though, but he still moved to greet his best friend.

Elphias hugged him as soon as he saw him.

"You should have let me come yesterday," Elphias said, holding him as Albus hugged him back.

Albus shook his head. "I'm fine. We're fine. Thank you for sorting out everything with Mrs. Deeson. I'm sorry I can't come with you on the trip. Very sorry, actually."

Elphias shook his head and pulled away from Albus, looking him up and down for a moment. "Don't worry. It's fine. It's all fine. Let's sit down."

Albus let him led him over to the couch, and as they sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, he listened to Aberforth's footsteps in their room and Ariana's laugh as he entertained her.

"I saw Harry," Albus said, abruptly remembering the morning before.

Elphias' eyes went wide. "You did? When? How is he?"

Albus told him. "He agreed he would answer questions when I ask them. Apparently he'll be around this summer until he can leave."

Elphias nodded, but another long pause came. Albus thought about the future again, how bleak it seemed. At least he'd still live for a long time, but at this point, he could hardly understand how he'd live through the rest of the summer until Aberforth went back to school.

"Albus... I just thought of something..."

"Hm?" he asked, distracted.

"Do you think Harry knew when your mother would die?"

His question seemed to hang in the air for a moment, but Albus nodded. "He knew."

The mid-afternoon sun shone over the Potter residence where a boy, around 13, was climbing a tree in the front.

Harry sat along the edge of the woods lining the cobbled street right outside this house. He missed talking to Atticus. At one point during the school year when he'd been working there, he'd talked to Atticus every day, always sitting with him before his friends arrived in the Great Hall. It was nice talking to an actual blood relative. He'd never had the chance for that before. Now as he stared at Atticus, who seemed to have grown a few inches since he'd seen him in December, Harry wished he'd valued the time talking to him more.

Honestly, he doubted he'd be able to talk to him anymore. He wished he could remember more of their conversations, as well.

He could only be seen by the Dumbledore's. Nicolas Flamel told him that. He couldn't risk being caught by Atticus' father. Flamel had read the newspapers recently. Even though his disappearance wasn't all that known, the Aurors were still looking for him, because Phineas Nigellus had been so insistent that there was something up.

But, he couldn't dwell on that. Their conversation the other day had been enough for him to think about, and at the moment, right before he was about ready to go to Kendra's funeral- hidden under his cloak, of course- he didn't want to think about that.

When the chapel's bell chimed ten, Atticus looked up toward the sky, then jumped down from one of the branches. Harry watched him enter into his house- the one Harry had spent his first 15 months in- and promised himself he'd make contact with him, even if Flamel said no. He needed to get to know his family more, now that he actually had them.

Harry sighed and stood up, walking slowly down the lane toward the church.

Harry had had enough funerals for a lifetime right after the war, but he couldn't miss this. If he saw Albus' funeral, he might as well see Kendra's.

Only a small number of people were gathered in the pews. He immediately spotted Albus and Aberforth in the front row. Ariana was no where to be seen, but neither was Mrs. Bagshot or, thankfully, Grindelwald, so he assumed she was watching out for Ariana.

Harry sat down in the back just as the grey breaded minister began the sermon. For a moment, Harry couldn't place him, but he nearly laughed to himself when he realized it was the same little, tufted haired wizard who had delivered Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding.

However, once that hit, he felt his laughter crashing. He stared at the back of Albus' head, suddenly feeling so solemn.

He had two months left with Albus. That was it. And then he was gone forever.

"Out of love," said the wizard in a solemn voice, glancing out into the tiny crowd. "We have gathered here today in the house of mourning to celebrate the life of Kendra Dumbledore."

There was a sniff. Harry wondered if it was Albus or not, but he hadn't seen him move at all. He was watching him too intensely.

"To begin, I will read a passage from Matthew 6:19, one that her eldest son, Albus, said was her favorite. 'Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.'

Harry blinked as the wizard read the last sentence, his mind flashing back to that Christmas Eve when his wand had been broken and he'd seen his parent's graves for the first time.

He couldn't help but remember what it felt like to stand near his parents for the first time since they had been alive. A chill ran down his spine, thinking of how Albus must be feeling. Harry could clearly see her casket up at the front. He was just a few feet away from her dead body, which was closed off and hidden away from view.

She was so close, but there wasn't a way to get to her.

At least Albus had had time with Kendra. Harry couldn't remember anything about his mother but her dying screams and past memories that he had witnessed through Snape.

Harry felt the edges of his eyes prickle as he wondered what Albus was thinking at that moment.

What it must be like to know your mother... be around her and treasure her in living form. Harry longed for her, had ever since he was small.

The first time he'd ever see Lily had been in the Mirror of Erised. Albus didn't know it, but he would see the same exact thing years from now that Harry saw in the mirror. He wondered what he would do when he faced the mirror for the first time and caught sight of his mother and sister and father and brother in the mirror.

His clear blue eyes would probably glisten with tears as he stared at his family happy together for the first time in a very, very long time.

But when Harry really thought about it and wished he'd had time with his mother like Albus had, at least he had something else to treasure besides Snape's memories and her grave stone. Her love had kept him safe for so long.

Maybe that was why Dumbledore had emphasized it so much when he was alive. Voldemort hadn't been able to reach him because her love had been so strong. He didn't have much to treasure in his possession except an old letter to Sirius and her grave stone. He just had her love.

A tear slipping down his face brought him back to the sermon. He blinked several times as the minister continued, though thinking back to the epitaph he'd just preached. He wondered if Albus felt the same as him; if he had nothing else left of her.

"According to Albus, she devoted her life to watching over her children. He remembers how she used to read him Tales of Beedle the Bard until he and his younger brother Aberforth memorized the words of the stories. Aberforth, in return, remembers how she used to take walks with him into the fields surrounding Godric's Hollow and teach him about different animals and plants. He said those were moments he'd treasure."

The little wizard took in a short breath as he continued on. "My remarks are directed to Kendra's children when I preach Matthew 6:22-24, also selected by Albus: 'The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!'"

He paused for a moment, looking directly down at Albus.

Harry saw him turn his head just slightly before he turned his head completely to look behind him, directly at the spot where Harry was sitting.

His face was red, but Harry could not see a glisten of tears on his cheeks. Not one, though his chest was heaving, as if begging his body not to let tears fall. He was fighting, Harry could tell.

Albus didn't want to cry. He didn't want to mourn. Harry just couldn't understand why. Maybe he was trying to be strong, but hadn't he cried when Harry left Hogwarts half a year ago? How could he cry for Harry when he couldn't cry for his own mother?

"'No one can serve two masters,'" the minister said. "'Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both…'"

Harry swallowed as Albus visibly shivered and stood for hymn. Harry said nothing, though he could hear Albus' voice over the others, perfectly in tune to the piano playing.

When the closing remarks were said, he and Aberforth and three women who looked remarkably like the pictures he'd seen of Kendra, with their high, Native-American cheekbones and copper skin began to walk out a side door as the casket floated along behind them.

Harry stood, wiping his cheeks and followed.

Harry approached Albus where he sat in the meadow, tearing pieces of long grass from earth and breaking them into pieces. As Harry sat down next to him, Albus muttered so softly that Harry couldn't even hear the word of the incantation. The pieces immediately went back into place and he threw it off to the side before looking at Harry.

"You were in the back," Albus said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed.

Albus' lips twitched slightly, but then he closed his eyes tightly and blindly grabbed another piece of grass.

"My father didn't have a funeral," Albus said. Harry blinked several times, but tried not to show his surprised. He just waited. "He was still in Azkaban. I suspect you know all about that, correct? Since you knew about Ariana."

"Yes."

Albus bit on his lip and glanced up at Harry wearily. "Sometimes I feel like my father's still alive. It's just like he's still in Azkaban, but I just can't go see him. I don't like the Dementors, Harry. They're horrid. The one time I did see my father, he was screaming and screaming. He didn't recognize me and I knew immediately that it was those soul-suckers."

He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Harry waited again, the little hairs on the back of his neck were sticking up. Of course he understood, but he didn't understand why Albus was suddenly telling him that. He'd never been so candid to Harry. Never. It was always about trying to pull information from him.

Albus took in a shuddering breath. "I begged my mother not to let me accompany her the next few times. I was about to go once, but… I was reading through my school books. I'd just gotten them and wanted to know everything… I wish- He died a few months later. And to cope, I immersed myself in school work. I was already determined to be great at magic before that because I wanted to show everyone that I wasn't whom they thought my father was. A Muggle-hater and blood purist-"

He stopped. His eyes pooled with tears and he looked away from Harry to cover his face with his hands as he began to sob.

Harry bit his lip. "Albus, I know. You told me what happened with Ariana. He was angry. I reckon if I had a daughter and someone, anyone, hurt her, I'd be that angry, too."

"It's not just that!" Albus said. "I hated that I didn't see him again! I'm his son. I was supposed to be there like I should've been there for my mother."

He shook his head, dropping his hands and looking at Harry with his clear eyes that still seemed to pierce him. The way he shook his head and cried reminded Harry fiercely of the night he died. How he'd been reliving all his awful memories.

"They're gone," Albus said. "Why are they gone? Why couldn't it have been me instead? Ariana and Aberforth… They need them. I think that's why I think my father's still in Azkaban. Maybe someday he'll come back."

Harry nodded slowly, wondering what he could do. The last time he had to comfort someone, it had been Hermione while they were on the run. And that hadn't really gone all that well.

And then the time before that, with Cho in the Room of Requirement… well…

But before Harry could decided what to do, Albus went on again.

"I know I have to be there for Ariana and Abe," Albus said while he wiped his tears away. "Is it so bad for me to want to get away? Just how I did schoolwork to take my mind off everything that had happened?"

He couldn't answer. It seemed more rhetorical to Harry, and honestly, he had no idea what to tell him. His sister may end up dead before the summer's end. Harry felt he needed to only focus on that.

And keep him away from Grindelwald, even though Flamel said not to interfere too much.

"You lost people, haven't you, Harry?" He let Harry nod his head. "What did you do?"

Harry hesitated slightly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Albus let out a frustrated sigh, something Harry had never heard from him before. "You said you would talk to me."

"I know," Harry said. "Just... not right now, okay?"

Albus pulled a piece of grass out of the ground rather harshly and twisted around his fingers. Harry watched as the ends turned purple before he let it go and his skin changed back to its normal light color.

"Just tell me. Please," he said. His eyes were downcast, not at all looking toward Harry. "I just want to know if this is okay. I mean, to feel like I'm stuck. Like I can't move. I want to do something to occupy my time, but I just feel like I'm flying into the middle of the Quidditch Pitch with the bludgers coming towards me and I have no idea what to do."

"You don't know how to play Quidditch?" Harry asked. Dumbledore had rarely attended the games, but that hadn't always meant to Harry that he didn't know how to play.

Albus smiled wearily. "I know the rules, of course. I also can fly and I'm quite well coordinated, but there's something about it that I can't figure out. I'm more of a theorist and dueler than an athlete."

"I was seeker."

"Were you?" Albus asked, giving a real smile this time, even though it was weak. He looked Harry up and down. "I can see that. You must have been small when you were younger."

"And you must've been tall."

He chuckled slightly. "Yes. Quite."

Harry smiled, glad that the conversation was now less tear filled.

"And now you're an Auror," Albus said after a few minutes of silence except for birds calling and the wind blowing the leaves of the trees surrounding them. "How does one become an Auror at 18?"

"I was 17, actually. I joined June last year."

"Except not last year. A future next year."

"Yeah."

"And you never had your N.E.W.T.s," Albus hook his head. "I usually understand complex concepts, but this is mad. Maybe things are different in the future."

"Er… you could say that."

He stared at Harry and was nearly about to say something when he stopped, listening. Harry could hear the bells of the chapel, too.

"Eleven," Albus said. "I was meant to meet- Nevermind. I think… Would you meet me somewhere tonight? To talk."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Here again, then," Albus said, standing. He brushed off his robes. "Before the sun goes down."

Harry nodded again, staring up at him. "Who are you meeting?"

He shook his head. "I have to say farewell to Elphias."

Right. He'd remembered seeing Elphias standing next to Albus as the casket had been spelled into the ground.

"Thank you, Harry," Albus said as he began walking toward the trees. "For coming, I mean. It means tremendously to me."

And then, Harry watched him disappear.

He couldn't get the image of Albus' father screaming in a lonely and dank prison cell, nor Ariana's high pitched screams as magic swirled around, out of his mind for the rest of the day.

"You know I love you, right?"

Albus nodded slowly, looking off to the left as Elphias packed his bag. He'd be in Greece before the day ended and Albus had never envied someone so much.

"I will write you and tell you everything."

Albus cringed. Why did this have to happen? He'd been looking for the world tour for years.

"Or… not, if you don't want me to-"

"No, no, please," Albus said. "I'd like to hear."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, wondering then if he made a mistake, but Elphias promised him he would and then pulled Albus into a hug.

Albus closed his eyes, hugging his friend back in a defeated way. Why did all of this have to happen? Why? He couldn't feel.

"You're my best friend, Albus, and I can't tell you how dreadful I feel for you. I wish you could come."

"Thank you," Albus said. "I appreciate everything."

Elphias broke the hug ad then with one last, "Good-bye. Good luck, Albus," he disapparated in front of Albus, completely gone.

He sighed and sat down on his bed, glancing across to Aberforth's messy side of the room. His bed was terribly ruffled, and just to do something, anything, he waved his wand lazily to make the bed proper again.

"He loves you?"

Albus jumped, pointing his wand toward the window where the sound of a voice came through. But on closer inspection, he realized it was only Gellert there, his elbow on the windowsill and his fist under his chin, looking in on Albus was a half smile.

"He's my best friend," Albus said, lowering his wand.

"Oh, sorry, excuse me," he said sweetly, then he heaved himself through the window and sat on top of Albus' desk. He picked up a sheet of parchment Albus had written all over and read through it quickly. "Hm. Interesting."

"What is?" Albus said. He couldn't remember what he'd written on that paper. All he could remember was the funeral.

"How someone like you could be friend's with someone so… uncultivated."

Albus couldn't even acknowledge the insult. "He's quite extraordinary at law."

Gellert hummed, dropping the parchment down. "I was at the funeral."

"Were you?" he asked. He hadn't seen him. He'd noticed Harry's presence, even if he couldn't be seen, but he hadn't once detected Gellert's.

"Yes." He paused for a moment and then jumped down from the desk and strolled over to Albus' bookshelf which had all his spell books placed by year and subject on it. But he didn't pick one of those, instead he found a small copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. "Your mother read to you in ancient runes?"

"Yes," Albus said. "She always translated it to English."

"Then she was quite proficient."

"Yes, she was. She taught me how to write and read it along with English."

Gellert crossed the room again and sat down in the wooden chair at the desk. Albus watched as he flipped through the book, stopping every once in a while to mutter to himself too quietly for Albus to hear.

"Did she teach you magic when you were younger?"

"No, but I asked questions and my parents answered."

"Both your parents are magic?"

"Yes."

Gellert seemed to consider that for a moment before he stopped flipping through the book to read one of the stories. Albus watched his eyes flash back and forth quickly.

"A wand for power," Gellert said as he read. Albus felt his heart leap. "A ring for love, and a cloak to hide." He shook his head. "Cowardly, that last brother."

Albus didn't think so, but he didn't have the strength to argue. "And the other two?" Albus asked.

He only shook his head and instead said, "Do you believe in these objects? Do you think they're real?"

Albus heart sped up and for the first time in two days, he felt something more than numbness and sadness that had gradually gotten worse as time went on and his mother's death sunk in. Gellert knew! He believed! No one else believed they were real. "The Deathly Hallows? What do you think?"

Gellert smirked. "Yes. They're just too good not to be real. There's a veil in the English Ministry, and Thestrals roaming the country, aren't there? Why can't there be a personification of Death whom gave gifts to people if the Ministry of Magic's got a direct gateway to death, and there're even creatures only visible to those who have seen death?"

Albus thought his heart would burst with all the feelings he'd been feeling that day. From sadness to sudden happiness. "I've always thought the same! It's not just a children's story. I feel the other stories are real, as well."

"Babbity Rabbity? Oh, goodness me. Could you imagine?"

Albus caught Gellert's eyes and then, before he knew it, he was bursting with laugher with him. It was an easy laughter like he was used to with Elphias.

"But, seriously," Gellert said, still smiling as he sat down opposite Albus on Aberforth's bed. "I think these are real. The wand, ring, cloak… everything. Do you?"

Albus nodded in confirmation of understanding. "I do."

Then, Gellert smiled and closed the book before closing the book and glancing around Albus and Aberforth's room. His eyes fell onto the notebook Albus had given Aberforth, which sat at the edge of the desk they shared.

Gellert reached out for it, but Albus flicked his wand to keep it out of reach of Gellert. "That's not mine."

"Oh," he said disappointed. "Your brother writes?"

"He draws," Albus said.

"Plants and animals?" Gellert asked, picking up one of Fawkes' feathers from the desk instead of the book. He ran his hand softly over it, then sniffed it.

"He does studies. He's quite good. I can see him doing Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures after school."

"Hm," Gellert said, studying the feather closer, seeming to ignore what Albus just said. "You have a phoenix."

Albus nodded. "Would you like to see him? He's incredibly handsome. Fawkes!"

He popped out from under Albus' bed. Albus petted his head as he wattled out into the middle of the room.

Gellert bit his tongue, reaching out his hand to touch Fawkes, but the bird squawked and flew up onto Albus's shoulder, eyeing Gellert wearily.

Albus remembered how Fawkes acted when Harry first came. He was comfortable with Harry touching him, even enjoyed it like Harry was an old friend. But something about Gellert he didn't like. "Oh, come on, Fawkes. He's all right."

He screamed a chirp and nipped at Albus's ear before digging his claws in Albus's shoulder and then flying out the open window.

"Sorry about that," Albus said, staring after his pet. "He must be hungry. He gets cranky when he is."

Gellert smiled, but not as fully as before.

"So, tell me about Hogwarts? I've always wondered what it was like there."

Albus smiled and started talking about how beautiful the castle was.

About an hour later, Gellert announced he had to leave to go for dinner. Albus said farewell to him also, but as soon as he closed the window, he missed Gellert's company. He sighed at the thought of going down to fix Aberforth and Ariana their dinner before meeting Harry.

He wanted to talk more to Gellert. All night, in fact. But he guessed that wouldn't happen.

A/N: Admittedly… I forgot about this story. It's my senior (!) year of college now, which I can't believe. I started this three years ago now at the end of my freshman year. I can't believe it. But I have work to do, at school I mean… like a 30-50 page Art History thesis to think about for next semester. And tests for Ethics and a Chaucer class (that Chaucer class is honestly a nightmare) and paintings upon paintings in Advanced Studio. So… I'm swamped. But still currently reading JK's new book! Oh, and an internship… which I haven't been doing any work for :\ I'm going to fail. Ugh. Anyway.

I do have every single intention of finishing this. I promise :)