You haven’t slept properly in days.

How could one sleep after defeating the greatest enemy the world had ever known? You had to attend the parties, the celebrations, the feasts, the tributes in your honor – everything that goes along with becoming a hero.

But you haven’t slept because every night, just as you lie curled beneath the blanket, finally feeling secure in your safety, Gellert’s words come back to you. They’re your brother’s words.

You stood above his prostrate form after finally winning his wand. He is defeated and you both know it. You have the power. You have conquered him at last. And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, he grins.

“I knew you couldn’t do it, Albus.� His voice is quiet and wheezy, but it is filled with a certain malicious joy.

“I knew that you couldn’t kill me after you killed her.�

And then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a cold and hollow laugh that beat you about the ears, drawing out the same words that you had heard from your brother.

You killed her.

A noise, some sort of primal scream, wells up within you and is ripped from your throat as you point your wand – his wand – at him. A jet of concentrated blue sparks shoot towards him and he rolls sideways to avoid a direct hit. You could kill him, you know that you could.

His thin lips twist back into a smile as he sees you standing there, hesitating. It’s the smile – almost identical to your brother’s smirk – that commands your wand to ensnare him in heaving gold whips so that he can no longer move. You shoot the victory sparks into the air and suddenly the field is full of your friends shouting in joy and rejoicing at the fall of Grindlewald.

You’ve won the battle, but somewhere deep within you, you know that he has triumphed over you instead.

--

“You know that you’re no good, Albus! You know that you’re just as bad as he is!�

You stand with your back to him, not wanting to dignify his taunts with a response. The last time that had happened, there had been a brawl at her funeral. And you never, ever want to repeat that experience.

“You know you killed her!�

At that you finally turn around and see a look of vindictive triumph smeared sickeningly across your brother’s face. Your arm trembles in outrage and your fingers automatically reach for the wand in your pocket. It would be easy, so easy, to make him stay quiet.

But you can’t do it. You withdraw your hand from your robes in disgust. He sees that you have failed and he smirks maddeningly at you before slamming the door, leaving you alone in the garden.

You look up at the old house. It is a beautiful house with neat paint and a small bed of pale roses, but it is now too ugly to look at. You can’t look at it anymore without seeing that day. That day with him, her, and your brother.

You hate your brother.

And suddenly everything is clear. Everything makes perfect sense and there’s only one thing that you can do: you leave. You can’t stay here. You can’t bear to be reminded of that day anymore.

Especially because you fear that your brother may be right.

You killed her.

--

Your brother, the bumbling idiot, has managed to land himself into trouble. With goats. What a fool! What could he have been thinking?

And, of course, he expects you to sort out the mess.

You wouldn’t do it – he doesn’t deserve to avoid punishment for this – but he sent you a letter.

Dear Albus, you read.

I need your help. I’m asking as your brother that you please help me to get out of this. I swear upon whatever you wish to consider holy that I will never do anything this foolish again. It was a mistake that I regret.

I know that you don’t want to, but you owe her. Albus, you owe it to your sister – our sister – to protect your only remaining family. You and I both know it.

This is a fast owl – I’m anticipating your help by tomorrow morning.

Your brother,
-Aberforth

He is too cocky, you think. What makes him so confident that you would involve yourself in his ridiculous issue?

You skim the letter again. Of course. Your guilt. He knows how guilty you feel and he’s exploiting it. It’s a dirty move, but you both know that it will work.

You pull a fresh quill from your desk and settle it to the blank parchment that is waiting. After a brief pause, the words spill forth in ink:

I will see you tomorrow only on the condition that you never speak of her again.

Your brother,
Albus

You give it back to the owl. She immediately turns to the window and glides into the darkness.

You watch her flight for a moment before thinking absently that you really have to hand it to your brother – he does know his animals.

--

After a lot of complicated maneuvering, you were able to get Aberforth out of the mess with as little publicity as possible. It wouldn’t do to have your name sullied along with his. He’s awfully fortunate to have such a prominent older brother who is so willing to help.

You feel the lightest you have in years. No more worrying about Aberforth and no more worrying about your sister. There’s a written promise that he will never mention her to you again, and your guilt as been erased after the selfless help that you performed for Aberforth.

You feel a slight twinge in your chest. Well, perhaps it has only been mostly erased. You know that you’ll always have the lingering guilt of the uncertainty surrounding her death. But you do feel much better because you’ve started your brother off onto a better life.

That gives you a moment’s pause. Now that Aberforth is free, what might he be doing? Would he have a relapse? Was he doing anything important? Meaningful? You know that he doesn’t have anywhere to live other than the old house, which is in such a state of disrepair that it is nearly uninhabitable.

Almost against your will, you start to worry for Aberforth. It’s not right for him to be out alone in the world. He needs something to do other than to experiment with magic and animals. You hit upon a perfect solution almost immediately: he could live at Hogwarts with you. It’s a brilliant plan. You could keep an eye on him and the two of you could start your relationship over.

You begin to feel uneasy. The more you think about it, the more the plan sounds dreadful. It’s depressing to realize it, but you and Aberforth will never be close. There has been too much antagonism in your past. You could certainly be friendly, but sharing quarters would only drive you at his throat and he at yours. You need a better plan. Some way to keep him close and occupied, and yet far enough away that you can be completely separate.

And then the thought hits you: Hogsmeade. It’s perfect. Close and convenient, yet not on the school grounds. As you mull it over, you remember that the Hog’s Head has an aging bartender who might be convinced of taking on an apprentice.

Whistling, you make your way down to the pub and after a few rounds, the bartender is convinced of the fact that he needs a helping hand to train. You pay your tab and wander back to the school, belatedly realizing that you probably shouldn’t have had that much to drink.

The next morning, after a few potions to get rid of your lingering headache, you write to Aberforth, explaining the situation and the opportunity. You hope that he doesn’t decline and the next day you are pleased and quite a bit relieved to see that he has accepted.

When he finally arrives in Hogsmeade, you wander down to the pub for a drink – and to check up on him. He seems happy and serves you under the watchful eye of the old proprietor. After your single, leisurely drink and conversation with the most interesting hag next to you, you pay, leaving a generous tip.

As Aberforth picks up the coins from the rather sticky bar, he asks you why.

All you can say is that it’s because he’s your brother.