Brothers and Sisters Pt.2

"We had to keep her safe and quiet. We moved house, put it about she was ill, and my mother looked after her and tried to keep her calm and happy. I was her favorite," Aberforth said, and as he said it, a grubby schoolboy seemed to look out through his wrinkles and wrangled beard. "Not Albus, he was always up in his bedroom when he was home, reading his books and counting his prizes, keeping up with his correspondence with "the most notable magical names of the day," Aberforth succored. "He didn't want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could get her to eat when she wouldn't do it for my mother, I could calm her down, when she was in one of her rages, and when she was quiet, she used to help me feed the goats.

"Then, when she was fourteen... See, I wasn't there," said Aberforth regretfully. "If I'd been there, I could have calmed her down. She had one of her rages, and my mother wasn't as young as she was, and . . . it was an accident. Ariana couldn't control it. But my mother was killed."

Chris froze for a split second. The image of her own mother flashed before her eyes. She knew it was completely different but as she slowly looked at the portrait of Ariana and she softly smiled at her, Chris felt if anyone would have understood her pain and regret, it would have been Ariana.

Chris had hoped nobody saw her sudden change of expression as everyone was busy listening to Aberforth, but a hand slid into hers very softly. Chris looked up and saw Harry intertwining their fingers but his eyes kept trained at Aberforth, looking somewhere between horror and pity. Aberforth kept talking, and Chris wondered how long it had been since he had spoken about this; whether, in fact, he had ever spoken about it.

"So that put paid to Albus's trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of 'em came home for my mother's funeral and then Doge went off on his own, and Albus settled down as head of the family. Ha!" Aberforth spat into the fire. "I'd have looked after her, I told him so, I didn't care about school, I'd have stayed home and done it. He told me I had to finish my education and he'd take over from my mother. Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, there's no prizes for looking after your half-mad sister, stopping her from blowing up the house every other day. But he did all right for a few weeks . . . till he came."

And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth's face. "Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as bright and talented as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all Wizardkind, and if one young girl neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good? But after a few weeks of it, I'd had enough, I had. It was nearly time for me to go back to Hogwarts, so I told 'em, both of 'em, face-to-face, like I am to you, now," and Aberforth looked downward Harry, and it took a little imagination to see him as a teenager, wiry and angry, confronting his elder brother. "I told him, you'd better give it up now. You can't move her, she's in no fit state, you can't take her with you, wherever it is you're planning to go, when you're making your clever speeches, trying to whip yourselves up a following. He didn't like that." said Aberforth, and his eyes were briefly occluded by the firefight on the lenses of his glasses: They turned white and blind again. "Grindelwald didn't like that at all. He got angry. He told me what a stupid little boy I was, trying to stand in the way of him and my brilliant brother . . . Didn't I understand, my poor sister, wouldn't have to be hidden once they'd changed the world, and led the wizards out of hiding, and taught the Muggles their place?"

The way Aberforth said it made Chris uneasy. Dumbledore's friend wanted to teach the muggles their places and Dumbledore was going along with it?

"And there was an argument . . . and I pulled my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me by my brother's best friend - and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldn't stand it - " The color was draining from Aberforth's face as though he had suffered a mortal wound. " - And I think she wanted to help, but she didn't really know what she was doing, and I don't know which of us did it, it could have been any of us - and she was dead."

His voice broke on the last word and he dropped down into the nearest chair. Ginny, Luna, and Hermione's faces were wet with tears, Colin looked close to breaking into sobs, and Ron was almost as pale as Aberforth. Harry squeezed Chris's hand, maybe without realizing it as he stared at Aberforth in horror. Chris looked at the portrait again, there was still this warmth in Ariana's eyes as if they weren't discussing her life and death.

"I'm so . . . I'm so sorry," Ginny whispered.

"Gone," croaked Aberforth. "Gone forever."

He wiped his nose on his cuff and cleared his throat.

" 'Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn't want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn't he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the - "

"He was never free," Harry said, his voice thick with emotions and Chris knew what he was about to say.

"I beg your pardon?" said Aberforth.

"There was this one day - we -" Harry shot Chris a painful look and Chris nodded. Harry continued. "It was a few months ago from his death. There was this spell . . . object that shows you your greatest fear. Dumbledore asked us to step aside as he . . . wanted to handle it himself. That's when we saw her."

"Her?" Aberforth looked shocked.

"Ariana," Chris said and realized, she was holding back tears as well. "She was standing in front of us. Her image was twisted but it was her. She was asking why Dumbledore let that happen. If he loved her . . . how could he - he blamed himself for all of -"

"It was terrible. Like we were trapped in Dumbledore's nightmare," Harry said when Chris couldn't continue. "And if you had seen him that day, you would have known how many times Dumbledore lived through that nightmare. He wanted it to be him. He wanted to be the person at the end of Grindelwald's wand, not you or your sister."

Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands. After a long pause, he said. "How can you be sure, that my brother wasn't more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be sure you aren't dispensable, just like my little sister?"

Harry suddenly seemed struck by Aberforth's words and Chris thought about her own situation. Didn't she already accept that she may die at the end of this? But did Dumbledore know about it?

"Your sister wasn't nothing to Dumbledore, sir," Chris spoke very quietly but it echoed in the silent room. "Neither were we. Yes, Dumbledore cared about the Greater Good and told us that sacrifices were needed to achieve it. But he cared. He cared about his sister. You. Harry. Me. He cared about us. I have seen him cry when the memory of your sister stood in front of him. I have seen him worried sick for Harry and accept his mistakes for hurting him. I have seen him help me, and guide me even after knowing my magic wasn't natural. That my magic could be like your sister. That I could end up like your sister."

"What?" Aberforth narrowed his eyes behind the glass.

"My magic is . . . complicated," Chris answered feeling all of her friends' eyes on her. "It's not normal and Dumbledore knew it from the day I entered Hogwarts. He helped me understand it and taught me how to control it. He even once told me he thought he got a second chance and that he will not repeat the same mistakes. I think he was talking about your sis —"

"Why didn't he tell you to hide, then? shot back Aberforth, eyes ablaze. "Why didn't he say to you, 'Take care of yourself, here's how to survive. Be alive.'?"

"Because this isn't just about me! Or us! The entire Wizarding World is in danger," Chris burst out. "We have to do something apart from just surviving in a world where we are continuously hunted."

"You are not even of age, Girl!" 

"I am," Chris declared fiercely. "And even if I wasn't, I have to do this. This is my destiny. I was born for this. And I will finish this. I will fight it to the end."

Chris waited for Aberforth to jeer or to argue, but he did not. He merely moved. Aberforth remained fixed in his chair, gazing at Chris with the eye, that was so extraordinarily like his brother's. At last, he cleared his throat, got to his feet, walked around the little table, and approached the portrait of Ariana.

"You know what to do."

[To be continued]