Chapter One: Albus’ Worst Memory
It was a hot, summer’s day when I made my way down the beaten path. The dirt where I trudged was roughly a man’s foot in width, but seemingly never-ending in length, sandwiched by vast fields of parched, yellowing grass. Cicadas hummed their songs on and off and every now and then, a chirp paired with a rustle of hay-like grass would signify a skittish grasshopper. I listened to the sound of the buckled boots on my feet hitting the ground rhythmically, dirt and pebbles crunching and shifting underneath. The cloak enveloping me ended somewhere below my ankles, billowing behind me like a flag.
I had not the slightest idea as to where I was headed; all I knew was that I needed to get as far away from Godric’s Hollow as possible. I needed to let go of what had happened two nights ago…
As I turned into my street, returning from a local pub, I was met with a sickening sight. My vision grew blurry, my head spun, my legs suddenly felt like rubber…
There it was, gleaming in the dark: the Insigne. It was a royal purple, a simple flame, yet it was enough to send a dagger of fear through my heart. This flame was permanently plastered on the door of a house: my home.
I sped towards it, kicking open the front gate, and barreled through the door, tracking mud onto Beatrice’s rug.
“Expelliarmus!” a voice cried. It had been as if they were waiting for me. Perhaps they had been: I don’t remember.
My wand flew out of my grip, my hand loose with surprise.
“Good evening, Albus, old friend,” slowly spoke a smooth, deep voice from the shadows. A figure emerged from the dark hallways in front of me, moonlight splashing over his face, accentuating his sharp features.
I sighed, hands trembling ever so slightly with adrenaline and anxiety. “Dear Markus, I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you here. Nevertheless, I suppose you have your reasons. They are?” In reality, I knew exactly why he had targeted my family, but I had always refused to believe he’d still held a grudge against me. Markus Deringer and I had been the best of friends in our years at Hogwarts, until some time in sixth year, when a misunderstanding separated us, and we grew distant.
Then, some time in our late seventh year, Markus came to me with a proposal. He had asked me to join him in a group he had fashioned. I refused, and later on, had never concealed my disapproval of it.
Over the years, I had not heard from Markus, until recently, when he had started gaining power. He changed his name, having always thought of “Markus Deringer” as a lowly title. And now, he was in my home, ready to kill my family (if he had not already done so), as well as myself.
“Don’t be stupid. It’s Grindelwald, now: You should have long remembered it. I would ask you again, whether or not you will join me, but I’m afraid I already know what your answer is. Leave it to Albus Dumbledore to be the good little boy, nose buried in his studies, whilst the world crumbles around him. You always were odd…” Markus hissed, twirling my wand in his fingers. “Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind?”
“My answer is, and always will be, no. But I implore you, where are Holly and Beatrice?”
Markus laughed. “Need you reminding? I may have been a Gryffindor, but I have always opposed dirty blood. Dear, dear, you should have known that by now. You disappoint…”
“What have you done with them?” I demanded, afraid that fear was leaking through to my voice, my face paling.
“Don’t you worry: I’ll have them disposed of as soon as I see fit. First, I had wanted to speak with you,” he answered, a gleam in his eye.
“Well then, what do you wish? You have already asked me if I should like to join you. Is there anything else, or can I have my family back?” I spoke, my voice rising.
“Crucio!”
No sooner had he spoken those words than it felt like gashes had appeared all over my body, and I dropped to my knees in searing pain. I yelled out in agony, as well as in fear, fear for my family, wherever they were.
The curse lifted, and Markus gestured out into the darkness. More and more figures were gliding out to the moonlight, all facing their leader. Turning heel, Markus led the way downstairs, his followers at his feet.
I knelt there in pain, knowing not what to do. I looked up, and saw the last of the Cruor Gutta, or Blood Mark, descending downstairs, into the lower level of my house.
I stood up, stiffness and pain in my legs, and followed Markus as well. Once down, Markus turned to face me, my wife and daughter hanging in midair, suspended by invisible strings behind the caster. He saw the horror in my face as I saw Beatrice, my wife, and Holly, my eleven-year old daughter, struggling against the spell. All Markus did was laugh.
“Let them down, Markus. You gain nothing by hurting them,” I spoke sharply. He laughed again. “Let them down!”
With a jerk of his wand, Beatrice and Holly came crashing to the stone floor, wincing in pain. Holly was so young, ready to leave for Hogwarts in a few months, and yet her first experience of magic was so dreadful. And Beatrice, dear Beatrice had hardly any experience of magic at all.
“Should I just end it, Albus? Do you wish for me to kill them?”
“No! It’s my fault, Markus. I’ll join you, if you don’t hurt them.”
His shrill laughter rang throughout the basement. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” he taunted, before inflicting the Cruciatus Curse upon Beatrice, and then upon Holly, their screams echoing in my ears.
“Please, Markus. It’s my fault! Hurt me instead!”
“Not satisfactory, Dumbledore. I ask again: should I just kill them?”
“No! I’ll join you if you leave them be. Hurt them no more!” I repeated, afraid of what would happen, but determined not to let it show.
The curse on them lifted, and they lay there, panting, bloody, gazing at me with watery, red eyes.
A Cruor Gutta member near me shifted, and I noticed his wand was loose in his hand. Bent on saving my family, I wrenched the wand away from the man and began sending a tirade of hexes at Markus.
He blocked my disarming spell with a lazy flick of his wand and I quickly recalled powerful hexes buried deep in my mind, almost forgotten after years of disuse.
I cast a protective shield around myself and began murmuring a hex. It shot toward Markus, who half-blocked it. A single, long gash appeared on his arm, blood streaming through to his black-purple robes, and he yelled out in surprise.
But Markus was no fool, and he made me pay for the hex. I doubled over, having received a jet of orange from him, and was left gasping for breath.
Thinking I was done, he straightened up and looked around appreciatively at his followers. Knowing his attention was not on me, I began to mutter yet another hex at the man, pointing my wand at him from underneath my bent form.
This time it hit him full on, and he fell back. I watched him struggle, writhing on the floor, knowing that he felt as if white-hot pokers were burning into his skin.
His pain seemed to be a cue for the Cruor Gutta to move in and hex me. Whirling around in every direction as if dancing, I blocked their spells.
I began my attack on Markus once again. This time, I took a powerful hex to the back by a follower, and was thrown forward with such force that I landed, hard, on the ground, and knew no more.
I honestly had no aspirations to continue with life; life without Beatrice or Holly was not at all.
As I continued on the worn path, making my way to Merlin-knows-where, I looked to the horizon, where the setting sun was blushing, peaking just barely over the Earth.
I examined the melding colors of the sky: brilliant hues of deep red, comforting yellow, and warm pink. It was a wonder the world could go on when such a tragedy had just taken place. It was a wonder there was still beauty in the world, and it was a wonder something so trivial could capture my attention, when, just days ago, Holly and Beatrice had been the only ones on my mind.
My eyes traveled along the sky, observing the gradient formed over it, like a drape over the atmosphere. But, alas, my eyes fell on something that had not been there moments ago.
It was a sign. It read:
The Green Dragon.
Draconis Viridans by pheonixflame
Chapter Notes: Hello, everyone. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and thank you Ms Weasley for beta-ring this! :)