-William Hazlitt
A gust of wind whips through the treetops, knocking snow to the ground far below. Beyond the thick forest, clouds sweep their way across the sky, disfiguring the vibrant colours of the setting sun. In the midst of the woods, a clearing is visible, occupied by a small, secluded cottage, covered in the glistening snow. A wrought iron fence encloses the frostbitten garden, but in the back, the gate has been left open. A single line of footprints mark a path from the back of the house, through this gate, and towards an ice-covered trio of headstones.
Here, a trembling man kneels, his head in his hands.
_
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”
“Yes, honey?”
“Are we REALLY going to live here?”
“Yes, Kelsey. We’re really going to live here.”
The curly-haired girl threw her rag doll in the air.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Kelsey?”
“Are you REALLY going to build me a tree house?”
He hoisted Kelsey into his arms, kissing her forehead and tickling her tummy before putting her down and answering her.
“Yes, Kelsey. I will build you your tree house.”
“And Daddy?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Are you sure we can’t sell Nathan?”
The father smirked, raising his eyebrows at the petite woman beside him. She rolled her eyes at her husband, hugging the blonde toddler closer to her.
“I’m going to murder your brother for putting that idea in her head.”
“You have to give him some credit though, five whole Galleons? I almost took him up on the offer”oh, you know I’m just kidding! I wouldn’t trade his smile for the world!”
A voice lofted from across the garden. “So we HAVE to keep him?”
_
He seems to be losing his hair, and white patches are visible against the curly auburn locks that still adorn his head. He’s taller than he first appeared. As his hands begin to clear the frost from the center headstone, it is easy to see he still retains some vestiges of youth, as though the shocking white streaks in his hair don’t belong to a man his age. A beard is beginning to sprout on his chin; perhaps he hasn’t had the time or energy to shave. He pulls his wand from his pocket, pointing it at the ground to melt the snow. Another incantation aimed at the ground sprouts fresh flowers, baby blue fading into snow white. The tallest headstone, however, shows red roses, and as he leans forward to smell them, a thorn draws blood from his finger.
_
“Catherine honey, are you almost ready?”
“Hold on a minute. I pricked my finger on one of the roses while I was working in the garden.”
“Let me see.” She held up her hand, and he blew on it carefully. “Episkey,” he said wandlessly. Raising an eyebrow, Catherine smiled. “You’re really something else, you know that?”
Pulling his wife into a deep kiss, the young man grinned mischievously. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.” Catherine giggled as he tried to pull her in closer.
“We can’t do this now…”
“Mmm… and why not?”
“Because… because Kelsey will come in any-“
“Ewwww!”
“--Minute now.”
“You guys really have to stop kissing. It’s really yucky.”
“YUCKY?” he repeated. Kelsey squealed as her father picked her up in the air, throwing her over his shoulder and spinning around. “YUCKY? Your mother and I aren’t yucky!”
As Kelsey’s giggles filled the air, the sky outside began to darken.
_
He raises his head quietly as snow begins to fall. The sky is now dark, clouds blocking out the stars above. Flakes fall upon his face, and his breath is visible through the darkness. A silent tear slips down his cheek, and he bites his lip as a small smile comes upon his face. Removing his glasses, he puts his forehead against the tallest headstone, and the tears begin to flow freely.
From somewhere just within the forest, a rustling is heard over the man’s sobs…
_
“…And they all lived happily ever after.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Do endings like that really happen? Do princesses really live happily ever after?”
“Yes, Kelsey. I believe they do.”
“Do you think I could be a princess?”
“You’re my princess, and my happily ever after. Now go to sleep.”
“Okay, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you, too, princess.”
“And, Daddy?”
“Yes, Kelsey?”
“You’re my happily ever after too.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
As he stepped into the hall, the young man felt quite as though something was wrong. Running his fingers through his auburn hair, he held the candle aloft and made his way down the hall. Opening the door on his left, he saw his wife before him, cradling Nathan in her arms and singing softly.
with lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed.
Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.
Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.”
Catherine laid the baby gently into his cradle, tucking a small blanket around him. The man leant down quietly and softly kissed his son’s head. Soon the only sound in the house was their footsteps leading down the small flight of stairs. As they reached the living room, Catherine turned and grabbed her husband’s hand, pulling him onto the small couch with her. She snuggled into his arms, and pulled his glasses from his face, kissing the tip of his long nose, his cheeks, his lips. He kissed back, devouring her, reveling in a short moment of happiness with his wife.
Pulling away, he gestured at the fireplace, and soon the room was filled with a glowing warmth and a soft cackling noise. Returning to his wife, he smiled, a smirk playing on his lips as he studied her face. His blue eyes searched her green ones, and his lips soon found their way back to hers. They were soon interrupted, however, as the cackling of the fire grew louder and the fiery orange flames turned an emerald green. A small cough announced their visitor, and they turned to find Justus Pilliwickle in their living room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Catherine, but I need to steal your husband for a little while. It’s him again. They’re burning a trail from Liverpool to Manchester. Muggles don’t know what to do with themselves- they’ve got those fire people out in droves, trying to stop the flames.”
Catherine sighed, sitting upright. She shushed her husband as he turned to apologize. “It’s alright. Go, help those who need you.”
He smiled, pressed her fingers against his lips. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“When I get back…”
She giggled at his implications. “Go. I’ll be waiting.” His eyes twinkled as he followed the Auror into the fireplace and disappeared in swirls of green flames.
Outside, just beyond the edge of the forest, a rustling could be heard over the howling wind.
_
Sobs course his body as he kneels before her grave, and he is shuddering from the cold. A cry of anguish breaks through the silence, and he traces her name with his nimble fingers. ‘Catherine, my Catherine. I’m so sorry.’
The rustling in the bushes grows louder, and he raises his head. “Come to try to finish me off, Grindelwald? Haven’t you taken enough?”
_
The moon shone brightly in the clearing when he returned, appearing out of thin air with cool confidence. He walked with a slight limp from the night's events, and a blood-stain on his robes indicated the limp was well-deserved. As he approached the house, a feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, and he moved a little faster to the front door. Reaching out, he found the door ajar and pulled his wand, fearing the worst.
The living room where they'd sat mere hours ago was unrecognizable, and he found the kitchen in the same state. He tore up the stairs, the creaking steps announcing his presence. The hallway seemed in fair order, but as he stepped towards his daughter's bedroom, his heart was in his throat. Three limp bodies proved his suspicions correct, and as cried out in anguish, their positions on the floor allowed his mind to see how the attack played out.
As her husband's robes disappeared in flames of green, Catherine lay back against the couch, eyes closed. She pulled her wand from her emerald green robes, and gestured blindly at her opposite hand, conjuring a steaming mug of hot tea. Replacing her wand, she raised her head enough to sip quietly from the mug in her hands, opening her eyes as she did so.
A slight movement from the window caught her eye and she quickly put her mug down and redrew her wand. She walked smoothly to the kitchen, acting calmly, and on the pretense of getting sugar for her tea, she checked her clock on the wall. A wedding gift from her overly protective mother, it had four hands and destinations and descriptions instead of numbers; it told Catherine the status of her family. This handy device told her now that she and her children were in Mortal Peril.
She dropped the sugar jar as a figure passed by her frost-bitten window. The back door blasted open in a burst of purple, and Catherine found herself on her back. "STUPEFY" she shouted, standing up. "Stupefy!Impedimenta! Expelliarmus!" She aimed her next spell at the floor between her attacker and herself, and the floor exploded in a cloud of smoke; she tore through the door to the living room, and ran for the stairs.
She'd nearly made it up the stairs when a trip jinx caught her leg. Catherine rolled back down the stairs, and dove behind the couch as another spell was leveled. She knocked her head off the floor from the dive, and she could feel blood dripping from her forehead. She sprung from behind the couch, shot off a speedy Disarming spell, and Disapparated with a "Crack!"
She found herself in Jonathan's room, and she grabbed her son to her chest and Disapparated again, this time appearing in Kelsey's room. She woke the child speedily, and told her to get out of bed. Nathan screamed from his rude awakening and as Catherine reached for Kelsey's hand, the door to her room imploded in shards of broken wood. Catherine slid backwards into a wall, and a dizzy blackness took over her vision. "Kelsey, baby, where are you?"
A screech reached her ears, and she looked to see her daughter floating mid-air, screaming in pain and fright. Grindelwald's laughter filled the room, and Catherine screamed as her daughter dropped to the ground in a flash of green light. She turned her back to him and scampered across the floor in a feeble attempt to keep her son away from the monster. His laughter echoed the room, and Catherine found herself hoisted into the air just as Kelsey had. She looked Grindelwald in the eyes as tears streamed from her own, and she spoke only one word, "Why?"
His laughter chilled her to the bone, and he smiled at her coldly. "You're a Dumbledore, my dear. Why else?"
A flash of green light filled the room, and Catherine fell, her hands outstretched and hair matted against her face. Nathan soon followed, his small body arched unnaturally against the hardwood floor and his once twinkling blue eyes cold and lifeless.
Surveying the scene before him, Albus Dumbledore fell to the floor, and wished to never stand again.
_
He rises to his feet and turns in one fluid motion, wand arched before him. The look on his face is frightening and cold, with nothing but pure fury etched in his eyes. The streaks of tears give him a dangerous glow as they reflect the sparks flying from his wand, and the pain he’d been experiencing a moment ago seems to have turned to pure energy as the power emanates from every pore. A low coo emits from his foe, the sight of which causes him to cry out in surprise. Leaning against his wife’s headstone, the man begins to laugh, and the phoenix struts forward, nuzzling its head against his hand.
Crumpling to the ground, Albus Dumbledore is struck by the absurdity of nearly hexing a phoenix into the next county, and laughs even harder, tears once again streaming down his face. As he catches his breath, he rubs the phoenix’s head. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you? What’re you doing here?” He watches concernedly as a lone tear slips down the creature’s beak, and he nods in understanding. “We’re similar creatures, aren’t we?”
A low coo once again emits from the bird, and its beautiful eyes mirror Albus’s pain. “What should I call you then? Fawkes? Is that alright with you?” The bird hums in affirmation, and a soft song breaks the silence of the night. Hand to his head, he stands, and the bird flaps its way to his tall shoulder, its song providing small comfort in the cold. He places his hands on the gravestones one last time, and softly says, “Goodbye.”
Placing his wand back in his pocket, Albus Dumbledore turns away from the graves, and the phoenix takes flight, its glowing tail leading the way through the snowy darkness. Shifting one last look at the world he’s leaving behind, he remembers the story he told Kelsey that night, and is struck with the irony of it all. He smiles sadly.
“It was never supposed to turn out this way. They were supposed to be my happily ever after.”
The phoenix song echoes through the night as Albus Dumbledore walks away from his past, a tear in his eye and a smile on his lips.