It was nearing nightfall. A cold, stiff wind swept across the hilly landscape, bowing the high yellowing grass and buffeting dry leaves through the crisp autumn air. Everything spoke of an impending storm; the winds, the angry dark clouds gathering in the sky, and most of all the silence.
Standing at the crest of the highest hill, framed by the waning red sunlight behind them, was a pair of boys. They looked to be in their mid to late teenage years; both were tall and handsome�”one sturdy and strong as a bear, one lithe and a supple like a weeping willow tree. The bigger of the two, a blond with piercing eyes and a glistening smile, held in one hand a cloak of spun gold, fluttering behind in the wind. The other wore a ring, set with a stone that gleamed and shone like a chunk of black diamond. And held by the both of them, shared between their youthful hands, was a wand. They threw back their heads in unison, their pealing laughter ringing like bells through the dusky sky. Then the burly blond turned to the other, the one with auburn hair and intelligent blue eyes. He opened his mouth, and said�””
“Alby!”
Albus Dumbledore groaned softly, refusing to open his eyes, willing the dream to return. He knew only one person who would awaken him at such an ungodly hour, only one person who would call him�”
“Alby!” She was persistent. Albus scowled into his pillow for a moment, before hitching a smile onto his face and sitting up in his bed.
“Good morning, Ari.”
The first rays of sunlight were only just beginning to filter in through the single window of Albus’ little room in the Dumbledore cottage. A quick glance at his bedside clock told him what he had already guessed; it was scarcely past five in the morning, and already Ariana was awake.
The little girl in question had sat herself at the foot of Albus’ bed; her smile had faded, to be replaced with a pouting lower lip. “Alby! I told you not to call me that.”
“Sorry, I must have forgotten.” Ariana was too young to catch the sarcasm in her older brother’s voice. “Remember, I told you not to call me ‘Alby’, either.”
“Alby, Alby, Alby,” she chanted in a singsong voice. She was certainly lively this morning.
Ariana was a perplexity, even to Albus. Sometimes, she would go days without saying a word. Sometimes, it took force to get her to eat. Sometimes, she could not even wake up. And sometimes… she was like this.
For a moment, Albus found himself wishing that she was in one of her long sleeping spells again. He caught himself almost immediately�”this was a horrible thing to wish�”and instead focused on why she was so very energetic this morning. It did not take him long to figure out. Christmas.
“Happy Christmas, Ariana,” said Albus tiredly, getting up out of bed and pulling a bathrobe about his bare narrow chest.
“Christmas, Albus!” said Ariana happily. “Santa came last night!”
It was all Albus could do not to give a snort of derision. Santa. What imaginations children had.. However, he smiled what he hoped was a cheerful smile and helped his little sister off the bed. “Let’s see what he brought you, shall we?”
Yet, stepping into the Dumbledore parlor, it would not have taken much imagination to believe that Saint Nicholas truly had been through. It had been Aberforth’s idea, naturally, to turn the room into a winter wonderland for their younger sister. But he had employed Albus’ help for the various complex charms that made the setting possible.
The ground of the parlor had been covered completely by a layer of magical snow; white as a unicorn, soft as powdered sugar, and warm to the touch, it was a substance that would neither melt nor spread from the confines of the room. A soaring evergreen tree appeared to grow out of the very snow, twinkling with fairy lights and filling the room with the rich, aromatic smell of fresh pine. A pair of boot prints lead from the chimney to coffee table, upon which lay the remains of what had been two very delicious cookies, and in the corner meandered a live, miniature reindeer that had been transfigured from the coat rack by the door.
Albus could not help but feel a surge of pride as he surveyed the scene. He had stayed up long into the night to create it, staying as quiet as possible so as not to wake his sister. It had been hard work indeed… But seeing her standing there, with a look of awe and wonder on her young face, made everything worth it.
Albus did not turn as his brother entered the room. “Happy Christmas,” he said, to which his brother responded with a smile and a one-armed hug. The younger Dumbledore brother looked as enchanted with the room as Ariana did; he turned to look at Albus, blue eyes shining. “You did all this for Ariana?”
For a moment, Albus felt resentful of the amazed tone in Aberforth’s voice. Just because he did not dote upon his sister the way Aberforth did did not mean he loved her any less. However, unwilling to pick an argument on Christmas day, he simply nodded.
The two brothers stood in silence, watching as Ariana ventured toward the small cluster of presents beneath the tree. Without their parents, the Dumbledores had little money to spend; they were inexpensive, token gifts for Ariana at the best, charmed by Albus to make them more appealing. Yet with each gift she successive gift she opened, Ariana squealed with delight. Albus felt warmth spreading through his chest watching her; it was times like these that reminded him of what was truly important in life.
By the time Ariana had finished opening her presents, Albus was hungry. He had just started toward the little kitchen when a small hand grabbed his, holding him back.
“Alby!” Ariana beamed up at him. “For you.”
Surprised, Albus took the lumpy, poorly wrapped package from his sister and smiled. He had not expected anything this Christmas�”there was simply not much they could afford�”much less a gift from Ariana. “Thank you,” he said, slowly and carefully removing the paper.
Albus smiled at what he saw. They were lumpy, they were knobbly, and one reached up several inches higher than the other. But in his hands, knitted with love and care by his very own sister, was a pair of thick woolen socks.
Now an old man, Albus Dumbledore watched as the door to the empty classroom swung shut and the bespectacled eleven-year-old boy disappeared into the darkness. With a deep and longing sigh, the headmaster cast a sidelong glance at the claw-footed mirror in the center of the room… but no, it would not do to lose himself to the spell of Erised. “We’re more alike than you know, Harry,” he whispered softly, before rising to his feet in a single fluid motion.
Long strides carried Albus to his office; pausing only to absently stroke the neck of his sleeping phoenix, he bypassed his desk and quickly ascended the stairs to his bedroom. He sighed again as he sat his tired old body on the edge of his great canopied bed, remembering the day long ago when he had been given the best gift of his life. It had been no Invisibility Cloak, as James had left Harry, but its value was the same.
Removing his half-moon spectacles, Albus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Reaching down, he unbuckled his shiny black boots and removed them with a tug. A single tear ran down his cheek and hung like a crystal amidst the snowy white of his beard. For there beneath him, itching his feet but warming his heart, was a pair of uneven woolen socks.
Of Sisters, Socks, and Sorrow by FenrirG
Story Notes:
The characters in this story, and the world they live in, belong to JK Rowling. The plot, however, is my own.