Chapter 2: A Refusal
The day dawned with a brilliant show of colors, purples and pinks streaked across the sky as the sun rose over the horizon. Albus Dumbledore, wearing a crisp shirt and tie, strolled into the square. He glanced at a watch; celestial bodies moved around its face in the stead of hands. It was an old watch, made of gold-coated bronze. The back of it was dented in spots, but a fine, engraved message was clear among the scrapes and scratches.
To Percival Dumbledore: A Gift on the Beginning of His Seventeenth Year
Tears always sprang to Albus’s eyes when he read the message his paternal grandparents had etched into the pocket watch. The watch had come in a grubby, slightly soggy package on his own seventeenth birthday a year earlier, along with a letter from his father. Kendra hadn’t yet died when the parcel was delivered. Albus still marveled that Percival had been able to get it in the post. Perhaps the dementors had felt lenient at the time it was sent. For the thousandth time since he received it, Albus ran his thumb over the face of the watch, in awe that it had belonged to his father. “You will be free, father,” said Albus quietly. “I shall guarantee it.” Anger at the filthy children who damaged his sister and imprisoned his father coursed through Albus’s heart like some lethal venom. His hand closed on the watch, shutting it gently and slipping it into his pocket. “I shall not lose another parent at the hands of inferiors.”
The sun completed its break over the horizon, and the square of Godric’s Hollow was lit up. The last gloomy shadows of the night were driven out, and Albus couldn’t help but feel some sort of hope for the future. Gellert and he had met by chance, but there must be some higher reason behind it. Some sort of fate led them together, both of fiery intelligence, and both with an insatiable passion for “The Tale of the Three Brothers” and the so-called “myth” of the Deathly Hallows that lurked between the story’s lines. Albus knew that he was destined to do something great, and he couldn’t help but feel that it had something to do with he and Gellert, together, improving the world to their vision with the aid of the Hallows. Albus practically itched with anticipation of their sojourn to lands unvisited in search of the Elder Wand. Gellert and he hadn’t decided which would have control over it, but Albus felt to qualms in allowing it to go to Gellert.
His true interest was in the Resurrection Stone, the device that would allow him to communicate with the mother he had never loved, the woman who gave birth to him, raised him, and sent him to get a flawless education, the woman who accepted nothing in return for her love. Albus regretted never spending more time with Kendra, never getting to know her. Now, the only link he had to his mother were the tales that historian, Bathilda, wove for him, tales of when she and Kendra were young witches at Hogwarts.
Albus looked at the watch again. He had been waiting there for quite some time without realizing it. The flow of time was something that never ceased to astound him. Albus glanced up and saw Gellert approaching at last. He wore a large pointed hat at a jaunty angle, with full black robes that practically shimmered in the sunlight. Albus looked jealously at him. As a foreigner, Gellert could do almost anything he wanted. If the Ministry called up on the way he dressed, Gellert could plead that he wasn’t familiar with British customs. Albus’s lips instinctively tightened with a look of disapproval, but quickly loosened into a beaming smile of joy at the sight of his best friend. Neither of them hesitated to get to the point.
“How are we to tell your brother our plans?” asked Gellert promptly. They never referred to Ariana and Aberforth by their names. My brother, your sister. Gellert stressed to Albus not to get too emotionally attached to his siblings”they wouldn’t be there forever, and it would only hurt more when they would pass away. But Albus couldn’t help but love them, his sister’s inquisitive, curious smile, his brother’s passionate affection for Ariana.
“You must come with me,” answered Albus. “If we are both there, it will be easier to persuade Aberforth. I’m sure it won’t be hard to get Ariana on our side. No, Aberforth will be the real obstacle to pass.”
They began to stroll back towards Albus’s house, taking long strides across the square. A graveyard was tucked away in a corner of the square. Gellert and Albus had already examined Ignotus Peverell’s tombstone to no end. There was no hint as to the location of the Cloak on it. Gellert was disappointed; the whole reason for his summer at Godric’s Hollow, at the real reason, was to see if he could find any leads to the Cloak. They both came to the conclusion that the Cloak had been passed down the male line. It was explicitly mentioned at the end of the tale that Ignotus gave the Cloak to his son before meeting Death.
They reached the humble house that the Dumbledores called home. It wasn’t anything grand. A low, iron-wrought fence lined the front yard. The grass used to be lush and green; the garden had once been a rainbow of exotic flowers and plants. Now, with the death of their main caretaker, the only novel thing in the yard being a small pen corralling a handful of horned goats that Aberforth liked to keep “for the milk.” Gellert and Albus stepped over the small fence and into the narrow, cobbled walkway. Weeds sprouted up between the cracks and stains from odd potions dotted the stones. Albus strolled up the stairs and opened the door carefully.
Ariana sat behind the door, with marionettes in her small hands. “Albus!” she cried as her older brother stepped over the threshold. She tossed the marionettes aside into a tangled mess before dashing up to Albus’s feet and hugging his fiercely.
Reluctant to show his affection in front of Gellert, Albus patted Ariana’s golden curls awkwardly. A small shock came from her hands, jolting Albus, but he had gotten used to the smaller effects of her wild magic. He had never known anyone with more powerful magic. No one dared letting Ariana near a wand since she was born.
Gellert followed Albus closely and closed the front door. Ariana loosened her arms and turned to Gellert. She smiled cautiously, almost coldly, a metallic gleam in her eye that Ariana reserved for him. No one sensed Gellert’s coarseness more than she, but Ariana showed him toleration and respect simply because of the admiration her big brother held for the boy. She sat back behind the door and, with a small wave of her hand, untangled the strings of the marionettes.
“Careful, Ari!” said Aberforth, who had appeared at the top of the stairs. Albus’s brother wore a smock with a wand poking from the side pocket. Albus secretly didn’t know why Aberforth bothered carrying a wand when it was so challenging to use for him. Albus told him again and again to go to Hogwarts, that he would take care of Ari himself, but Aberforth was too stubborn and independent to accept his brother’s wisdom.
Aberforth glared up at Albus and Gellert. He was short and stocky, almost plump, though that didn’t come from sloth. The goat’s milk did his metabolism well, Albus observed wryly. His hair was once brown, but was now speckled with grays and blacks that no stranger would be able to tell the true color of the roots. His face was always smirched and dirty, dust from cleaning and the seemingly ever-present renovations to their house at Godric’s Hollow. Percival Dumbledore had always raved to his wife about adding to the house, but he had been taken away by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad before he had ever had a chance to act on his planning. Through some sort of humility, even love for his father, Aberforth had taken it upon himself to fix the house, to make it more habitable. “What are you lot doing here?” snapped Aberforth. Albus noted that Aberforth had a sharp and acute tone that so resembled the goat’s horns he loved to…play with.
“We’ve made plans,” Gellert said bluntly. “We’ll be leaving in September for our…travels. You and the girl shall come with us.”
Aberforth stood up straighter, his eyes not quite level with Gellert’s. However, the deathly whisper Aberforth spoke in made up for that shortcoming. “You aren’t taking Ari anywhere. She’s fragile. She’ll hurt herself and possibly others moving around all the time, and Merlin knows what sort of living conditions will be maintained on your bloody trip. She could flout the International Statue of Secrecy and have those blithering idiots at our Ministry swooping down any minute. And,” added Aberforth bluntly, “the magical community is on the brink of war. Dana Mortlake is marching through France like no tomorrow, practically waving banners in front of Muggles that even they can’t rationalize away. No. She’s not going, I won’t allow it.”
Albus looked deep into Aberforth’s crystal blue eyes with intensity, but saw that his brother was resolute. Gellert glared, shadows darkening the skin under his eyes, but Albus stepped between his brother and his friend. “Gellert,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially, “Aberforth will see sense eventually. Let him think it over. We can take action when we go to leave for good.” Albus looked pleadingly into Gellert’s deep eyes. “Trust me.”
Gellert turned and walked out the front door. Albus followed, closing the door behind them. Ari’s face appeared at the window, bidding them farewell with a small wave.