His left foot had been asleep for Merlin only knew how long, and the right one had just decided to join it. He shifted a fraction in a feeble attempt to get the blood circulation going again, but didn’t dare move more than that. He couldn’t afford to have any attention drawn to him, not now, not when he was so close to completing his task.
Aberforth brushed his fingers carefully over his wand, held firm in his hand, his eyes trained on the door where he knew they would appear any moment. How many minutes had gone by since he’d first come here, anyway? Who knew, perhaps it had even been hours, or even days.
However much time it had been, one thing was for certain in his mind, and that was that it had been too damn long. Too damn long he’d been crouched here in this tiny space. Too damn long he’d been waiting for his victim to come. Too damn long he’d had to think. Thinking wasn’t good, not now, not when he was so close to finishing this.
Yet, he couldn’t help thinking, couldn’t help reflecting over what he was about to do. He was supposed to kill them, he knew that; and he was going to kill them “ he knew that too.
But still . . . this person . . . the two of them had been companions, of sorts. Comrades, you could say. Allies was a good word for it too. Or friends . . . no, that was stretching it. They had a bond, but friends they were not. Still, that didn’t mean that what he was about to do wasn’t any the less difficult.
Sensing movement, Aberforth looked up towards the door he’d been watching avidly “ and there they were, at last. He remained where he was, readying himself for the inevitable.
***
Albus Dumbledore had few loved ones to say goodbye to anymore, which he considered a good thing, in a way. He never had to worry about anyone besides himself, and he could go about daily life without having to think about what to serve for dinner or whether or not he was working too much. He rarely cried at funerals and had gotten over his fear of death long ago. Which is why he was surprised at the way his heart kept pounding, and the way his last conversation was haunting him so.
“I know it seems like a horrible thing to ask, but I have to for the sake of my students. It’s simply my duty as Headmaster.” Those words would not leave him. He tried to convince himself that it was not a big deal. That he had lived a long life, and would have no regrets when he died. Yet, any time he came close to convincing himself of that, he remembered just what he was doing “ telling someone he made a point of trusting to do the unthinkable.
“I know that you have cast that spell before, surely you can cast it just one more time.” Albus could not believe that, of all people, it would be a friend to take his life. It was not unheard of, he knew that from experience, but horrible nonetheless. But did giving his friend permission to do so make it suddenly forgivable? Albus realized that he would probably never know.
“It’s settled then, you will do me one final favor, and we shall both move on without regret.” Of all the times to lie to his friend, Albus felt that he had picked the worst one possible. It was just another regret that he would have to live”or rather, die”with.
But even if he did want to tell Severus everything, he wouldn’t know how to. He found it a shame that he hadn’t learned how to say what was on his mind, even after having well over a century to at least attempt doing so. He had forced the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth out of Severus when he applied for a job at Hogwarts, and yet Albus couldn’t do the same in return. He tried not to think about it for too long.
Though he had learned many years prior that running away from problems would do no good, he found him footsteps gradually increasing in speed as he walked down the long, empty hallway of Hogwarts. But there was no time to think about that now; he had work to do. He left the building and Apparated away.
***
Albus looked just as Aberforth had remembered him as he strode through the woods, moving between the unkempt grass and the low-hanging trees. Well, that wasn’t saying much, really; they crossed paths occasionally at the Order meetings.
Still, something about seeing the all-too-familiar appearance gave another slight jolt to Aberforth’s system. The long silver hair and beard with not a strand out of place; the deep purple robes, the hem of which trailed gently across the polished floor; the half-moon glasses balanced on his long, bent nose; the sagely, kind, glimmering eyes.
The image of perfection.
Aberforth held back a snort at that. Images were nothing, as he himself had learned at a young age, but the general population still seemed to fall willing into that little trap.
Albus had always been setting traps, still did set traps. Tricking, deceiving, plotting, manipulating, whatever he needed to do to achieve his means. And all the while he would be wearing that expression with the exact right amounts of compassion, solemnity, and pleading; with his mouth forming a squiggle of a line that was supposed to be filled with emotion, with the creases under his eyes more pronounced than usual, with his stupid twinkling eyes twinkling away.
Aberforth had stopped listening to his elder brother long ago. Many others had not. And that was why Aberforth was needed, why he had been ordered, to do this. That was why he needed to follow through.
The air was smokey, dense. Moody’s magical eye bounced up and down like a Muggle yo-yo.
“You-Know-Who’s sensing weakness,” he growled at Aberforth, slamming his mug of Firewhiskey against the table. “He knows we’re weak. He knows we don’t have a strong defense, or plan of any kind.”
The smoke wafted into his whizzing blue eye. He made a ticking noise in the back of his throat.
“And Albus is getting old,” Moody muttered. “He just can’t do what he was once capable of. He knows it, and You-Know-Who knows it.”
Aberforth pushed his palms against the table. Splinters pressed into his skin. “I know it too.”
Moody considered his hands. “Your brother hasn’t . . . some of his decisions haven’t been the best. Snape tells me he keeps leaving the school for large periods of time. Doesn’t seem like the brightest idea.”
Aberforth removed his hands from the table, set them against his knees. “What do we do?”
“Talk to him,” Moody answered gruffly. “He’s no fool “ he just needs a little tap on the head, that’s all.” The enchanted eye focused on Aberforth’s. “You could take care of that, eh? You’re the closest of us all, being down in Hogsmeade. Just remind him that he should keep his priorities straight, and that . . . if he’s feeling that he’s “gotten too old for the job, no one’d be thinking the less of him for it. We’d be able to find another leader, someone who’s a little quicker on their feet.”
Aberforth nodded at his drink, mechanically.
“You’ll take care of that, then?” Moody asked.
“Yeah,” said Aberforth, but the gears in his head were working furiously, turning over what his companion had said. And he knew, as he knew his brother, that what Moody had suggested would never happen. Albus believed himself to be far more intelligent, far more superior than most. He would never simply ‘step down’ because others said he was getting too old to be a proper leader, even if everyone else knew it was true. Albus Dumbledore believed himself special, elite, a race unto himself. Aberforth would never just be able to talk this over with him. Moody did not know Albus as he did.
“I don’t think he’s going to listen,” Aberforth brought up in a cursory manner.
Moody took a swig of alcohol. “Well, there’s nothing else to do about it. Just try talking to him.”
Nothing else to do about it . . . nothing else to do . . .
There had to be, though. There was never just one way to go about something. Maybe . . . maybe instead of suggesting that Albus step down from being the Order’s leader, they would just force a new leader onto the group. But Albus wouldn’t like that . . . he was the founder of the Order, he would most certainly object, and the situation might turn very ugly . . .
There was a bug on the table. Aberforth usually didn’t pay attention to stray bugs, but he found himself absently squashing it with his forefinger. His eyes widened.
There was always that option . . . perhaps not the most graceful option, but it was definitely an option. Somewhat to his surprise, Aberforth didn’t find himself cringing at the idea. But on second thought, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t considered it before under other circumstances . . . there had been times before when he had toyed with the notion of killing his brother. It was usually for personal reasons though, such as what Albus had done to him and their family.
This, on the other hand, was a valid reason to do the deed, to at last end Albus’ life. This was a reason that was not just for personal vengeance, this was a reason that was beneficial to all.
For the greater good. Aberforth sneered slightly at that thought. Yes, for the greater good . . . having Albus out of the way would allow room for a new leader, someone who actually knew how to lead. Therefore, Aberforth’s killing him would be justified.
Or is this just an excuse for you to do what you’ve always longed to do? a nasty voice in his head questioned.
No. No, it wasn’t. This needed to be done, this had to be done. There was no other way: Albus Dumbledore must be killed.
Aberforth was transported back to the present by his brother’s footsteps, crunching against a splintered branch laying on the ground. With a good deal more deftness than most men his age could ever hope to exhibit, Aberforth stealthily rose from where he was crouched between two trees. He began to stalk after the other man, slowly and silently. A part of him felt ridiculous, creeping up on his target like this, when he didn’t even know of his presence. But Aberforth wanted this to be quick and easy, to simply get it over with and return to the Hog’s Head. He was a busy man, after all, he didn’t have the luxury to diddle around with this thing all day.
And, though he was loathe to admit it to himself, he was also doing this ‘sneak-attack’ for another reason: he didn’t want to be recognized. He didn’t want Albus to know the identity of his murderer.
Aberforth wasn’t comfortable with this fact whatsoever, the fact that he didn’t want Albus to know who had crept up on him. Aberforth had never been the bold and daring sort who would run headfirst into dangerous waters, but he was certainly no coward either. He’d been put into Gryffindor all those years ago for a reason. This was not a man who was afraid of much.
The two of them rounded a bend, the older brother still walking ahead and completely unaware that he was being followed. They moved thicker into the forest. Carefully, he drew his wand from his robe pocket. They were alone. Now was the opportune moment.
***
Albus wished his brother knew that there was nothing to hide. It was obvious to him that Aberforth was trying to keep his identity a secret, but Albus could easily see past it. They were brothers, after all. As much as Aberforth may have wished otherwise, they had spent many years together, had gone through many difficult things together. Albus wished that his brother would realize that that would never leave them.
Albus noticed that his brother’s wand was unstable in his shaking hand. He tried to lift it several times with no luck. Albus did the only thing he could think to do at that moment. He ran as fast as he could, although he wasn’t completely sure of where he was to begin with or where he would end up.
He still didn’t know where he was when he stopped, but he assumed, or at least hoped, that he was a safe distance away from his brother. His breathing heavy and ragged, he leaned against a large tree. Thoughts raced through his mind quickly in extremely long moments. I shouldn’t have to run from my brother, he thought, we should be friends.
The woods seemed quiet and empty but Albus realized that his brother was probably not far behind. This upset him; usually he would have thought of such things much sooner.
He let his mind wander as he walked away, his final destination still unknown. He would just have to wait to see where he would need to go. The whole time he kept his eyes focused on the ground, thinking about anything and everything except his brother.
This inevitably led to many distractions. Albus tried not to look up but always failed when he heard a sudden noise. And any object around him, no matter how trivial, caught his attention.
He tried to tell himself that he could be in danger, that he should be worried about getting away unharmed rather than some small, old object on the ground. But when he remembered that he wouldn’t be living much longer anyway, he decided to see what the object was, just this one time.
He bent down, trying to make sense of what he had found. It might’ve been a piece of jewelry, but it was too dark to know for sure. Or maybe it was a complicated Muggle device that Albus had never even seen before. But he was still curious.
A brief flash of green light made everything clear for a split second, but when that happened, the object was the last thing on Albus’s mind. He instinctively reached for his wand and turned around.
Albus did not put his wand down when he saw the silhouette of his brother. He had tried to hurt him just seconds ago, and Albus found no reason that he could change in such a short time.
Albus wanted to scream at Aberforth, but knew that it would do no good. He was still in danger of dying.
He tried to tell himself that if he died at that instant he would die the way he had tried to live; courageously and happily, having made a difference, unafraid of what was to come.
***
There was no more hiding to be done. No more games, no more sneaking around in shadows, no more pretending. Albus had seen someone following him. Albus had run. Aberforth had been somewhat surprised at that “ his brother, the one who always confronted danger with a face of stone, who had tapped into powers that most other wizards had only dreamed of “ had run off when someone was about to kill him? This was the man who had done so many spectacular things, this was the man who was not afraid of anything, who claimed death to be nothing but the next great adventure?
Yet then, perhaps it was not the fact that he was inches away from death that had scared him, perhaps that was not what had made him run. Perhaps he had run because he did not know what else to do, because he could not think in such a moment of pure bewilderment . . . because he could not believe that after all they had been through, that despite all the bad moments in their history, his death would be brought about by his brother.
It was time to put an end to all this. Whether or not Albus had recognized him wasn’t the issue “ Albus had seen someone, and that was enough, because now he knew some person was hunting him.
His back pressed flat against the tree, his breathing labored, Aberforth steadied the wand in his hand, and stepped out from the tree, rounding the corner “ where sure enough, his brother waited. It was very dark, and difficult to see, but Aberforth could make out his brother’s shadowy outline if he looked closely. His back was to Aberforth, his head bowed as though studying the ground. His attention was occupied “ now was the time “ lift the wand higher “ take aim “ say the words “ say the words “
“Avada Kedavra.”
The green light fired out from his wand tip, shooting forward “ but Aberforth’s hand had quivered at the last minute (damn that old-age tremor, he thought hazily), and so the spell missed its mark by a fraction; the curse flew harmlessly through the air, briefly catching a strange sparkle on the ground, before shattering against a tree.
Albus whirled around, wand in hand, instinctively, it seemed, opting for his battle stance. That stance faded, however, when he saw who the attacker was. Albus did not lower his wand, but the fight had left him: Albus was not going to hurt his brother. He had already helped cause the death of one sibling, and that was more than enough for him.
And so here was the moment, here was the time to finally do the deed, so why would that damn tremor not still, why would his mouth not form the words again?
There’s no other way, Albus Dumbledore must be killed “
All this man had done his whole life was work towards the ‘greater good’, and look at all it had accomplished, look at where it had gotten them both . . . so many reasons to send off the curse once more, yet it would not “ he could not “ no, he could, he could “
Aberforth fired off the curse; it sailed cleanly over Albus’ head. Again Aberforth’s eye caught that gold shimmer on the ground again, and his heart jolted with painful recognition “ but no, it couldn’t be that. His mind was just playing tricks on him. Or perhaps his brother was playing tricks on him.
He looked up accusingly into Albus’ face, and just as usual the blue eyes were probing, sad and accepting all at once; the wrinkled lines of his face were blank, waiting for whatever was to come. And it angered Aberforth that he could look so calm in the face of death, it angered him that of all the emotions that could be charging through his veins one of them was sadness “ because as usual, Albus Dumbledore was manipulating. The inexpressive features, the flat mouth, the compassionate gaze, and to top it all off he had put that object there on the ground, he must have put it there just to get to his younger brother, Aberforth knew the object just as sure as he knew his right arm “ all of it was done to trick and manipulate.
Well, why should Aberforth be surprised, really? This was what Albus had always done. He had always been angling situations just so, twisting the variables just right, lining every little thing up so as to make it go just as he wanted.
“Why?”
At first Aberforth thought he had imagined the word being spoken, but then he realized that Albus had said the word.
“Why are you doing this?” Albus asked softly.
See, he’s still manipulating you, now he’s using that voice too, with that tone of such forced sorrow and pity “
But it was working, Goddammit. His manipulation was working.
Aberforth didn’t answer. Instead, he stalked forward until he was perhaps a foot from his elder brother. Wand still poised taunt in a silent warning, Aberforth bent over and snatched the object from the ground, before backing up quickly, angling his body sideways so Albus could not see how moist his eyes had become.
With a rough grunt, blinking rapidly, Aberforth turned the item over in his palm, brushing thick layers of dirt off it with his aged fingers. The surface gleamed a dull gold, and had he not known that the letter ‘A’ was etched onto the once-smooth metal, he wouldn’t have known it was there.
It was Ariana’s old locket. He hadn’t seen it in years.
Just another one of the many things his brother had kept secret from him, apparently.
***
“I see you’ve found our sister’s locket,” Albus said casually, trying to hide the fear in his voice. “I’ve been searching for that.”
Aberforth did not respond. Albus watched as his brother tightened his grip on the locket, and then loosened it again. To Albus’s surprise, Aberforth turned to face him and handed it to him. Albus understood why as soon as Aberforth placed the heavy object in the palm of his hand. He had forgotten about it completely until just months before. Immediately he was taken back to that night, the night he decided he had to have it.
He had now gotten what he was looking for, but it still wasn’t enough. Few remnants from their sister’s life still existed. But was that what he was really looking for, what he really wanted?
He had now, but it was not in the locket. The locket was a burden, along with his increasingly heavy wand. It brought no peace, only a reminder of all things he had tried to forget. He could no longer remember why he had wanted to find the locket in the first place.
His search for it brought no sense of excitement either, no sense of adventure. It only brought forth feelings of desperation, of dread. He knew that it was time to begin a new adventure, one much more exciting than his search for something so meaningless.
“I won’t need it, Aberforth, you may have it if you wish.” Albus spoke calmly again, but this time, it was genuine.
Albus watched his brother after he said this, although it was becoming harder and harder to see him due to the darkness. But when he spoke, it became obvious that he was shocked.
“So you’re ready?”
“Yes,” Albus said, simply, confidently.
“And you don’t want to know why I’m here?”
“It would be nice, but it’s not the most important thing.”
“Then what is?”
“Many things. My friend, our sister…”
Aberforth interrupted his brother, speaking angrily. “You know that you killed her, Albus. Just admit it.”
Albus tried to keep his response brief and calm, to hide his anger from Aberforth. “I’m not saying I did. But I’m not saying I didn’t either. Now please, Aberforth, don’t make this last too long.”
Albus knew that his brother was unhappy with him then. He had been defeated again, of course he would be. But Albus chose to not think about that in his last moments.
It didn’t even matter to him as his brother uttered the killing curse once again. He thought, Maybe I’ll get to see Ariana again.