Aberforth Dumbledore did not like funerals. The funeral he was attending was particularly dreary he noted as he studied his surroundings. The actual landscape was quite beautiful; a mesh of colorful flowers spotted the moors that surrounded Godric’s Hollow. The graveyard sat behind the small white church with peeling paint on its walls; it was located in the center of the small village. Aberforth observed that the graveyard was surprisingly large; the gray and white slabs of stone and marble dotted the cemetery every couple feet. There weren’t many people in attendance at the service, being made up of close family and friends. The grass was a bright green, the sky a cloudless periwinkle blue, and the sun illuminated everything with a golden hue, yet to Aberforth, everything was colorless; it was as if his surroundings had been tinted gray.
The tight grip on Aberforth’s hand ceased the jumble of thoughts swimming around in his mind. Aberforth tilted his head to the right and studied his sister, Ariana; her auburn hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, her cheeks were stained pink from the tears, and her large, dark blue eyes glistened from the unshed tears that were threatening to spill. Aberforth retrained his focus on the short, stout wizard, dressed in white robes speaking in front of the dull black coffin; the man’s mouth was moving but the words he spoke didn’t reach Aberforth’s ears.
Aberforth remembered the end of the year feast that had taken place less than a week ago. He had been seated at the Gryffindor table, happily reaching over to his left to grab a bowl of mashed potatoes, when his head of house, Professor Raymund Harris, tapped his shoulder and gravely said, “Come with me”. Albus, his brother who was finishing up his seventh year was openly frustrated at the lack of an explanation and grumbled incoherently as the three made their way out of the Great Hall.
Aberforth remembered walking down the quiet, foreboding corridor. Albus had even ceased his complaining, which heightened Aberforth’s fear that something bad must have happened if his brother was worried. The trio was standing in front of the stone gargoyle much earlier than he had anticipated, and Aberforth recalled flinching heavily as the professor spoke the password much louder than needed, “phoenix feathers”.
Aberforth remembered climbing up the narrow stairwell and stepping into the circular room. “Thank you, Professor Harris. You may return to the feast now, if you so wish.” The Headmaster had said, immediately after returning his gaze to the two brothers.
Aberforth remembered, as Professor Dippet motioned to the two straight backed brown leather seated chairs placed in front of his desk. As Albus and Aberforth had taken their seats, their headmaster spoke slowly and softly, as if hoping what he said wasn’t true. “I’m sorry to tell you boys this, but there has been an accident.” Aberforth had focused his attention on the headmaster’s balding head, refusing to look into his eyes, know that they would be filled with pity. He didn’t want to be pitied.
Aberforth remembered being told that his mother was dead. Aberforth remembered being flooed back home to Godric’s Hollow immediately. Aberforth remembered finding Ariana seated at their kitchen table with tears in her eyes. Aberforth remembered scooping his sister up into a hug as she whispered softly, “It was an accident. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to…” Aberforth remembered, and he knew he always would.
A/N: This chapter is incredibly short, but it sets up the story. It after all is only the prologue. I am really excited about writing this and I would appreciate it loads if you were to review and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear it; good or bad. :)
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