Fic: Two Months of Insanity
Title:
Two Months of Insanity
Author/Artist:
DHFiccer aka Lynn
Rating:
PG-13
Pairing or Character(s):
Gellert Grindelwald/Albus Dumbledore
Disclaimer:
Not mine, naturally. Owned by J.K. Rowling, though I hope to do them justice.
Chapter Nine
Ariana’s Song
The midmorning sun hit against Gellert Grindelwald’s eyelids and forced them to open. He sat up in the bed and stared at the window. He could not figure out why he had never noticed that his great-aunt’s house faced east. As he looked around the room and the last bit of sleep was swept from him, he realized his mistake. He was not in his great-aunt’s house; he had spent the night with Albus. That brought another thought to mind: he was alone in bed.
The young man leaned backwards, arching his back until he heard a pop, and he gave a final yawn. He took another look around the too-tidy room and noticed a piece of paper with writing on it left on the desk. After he dressed, the clothes he had worn to come over in a small pile near the foot of the bed, Gellert rose and went to the desk.
‘Gellert-
Had to go to Gringotts. Aberforth needs new robes, and the goblins won’t let anyone who isn’t of age get money out. Shouldn’t be gone long. Make yourself at home.
Albus’
“Cad,” Gellert muttered to himself, but he chuckled. He took the note, folded it, and placed it in his pocket.
The young man left the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself out of habit, and he entered the washroom. A glance in the mirror allowed him to tame his hair slightly, the locks still wild from the previous night, and he splashed his face with cool water to fully wake himself up. Albus had said to make himself at home, but that wasn’t something that Gellert felt comfortable to do without Albus here. Still, he considered, a bit of food might be in order.
Gellert left the washroom and walked down the stairs, taking a short tour of the downstairs of the house, never having gotten the chance to do so before. There was no sign of Aberforth, and Gellert hoped that he was still asleep. He did not want to deal with that annoying child.
Only one door was closed, and Gellert stared at it for a few moments before he heard a sound from behind it. A piano. He knew the sound even though only one note had been played. A moment later, a second note was played, and the young man outside the room decided that there would be no harm in entering the room. Albus had said to make himself at home, and he felt like seeing what was in the room.
The room that was revealed was a fairly large room, much more open than others, where books lined the walls. Curtains hung over the windows, blocking out the morning sun, but the lamps were lit. There were places to seat, a divan and an armchair, but the main attraction of the room was a beautifully carved piano in the center of the room. Most remarkably, there was someone sitting at the piano, pressing her slim index finger onto a different key every moment or two, a small frown etched onto her features.
She was a pretty young woman, Gellert had to admit. The way that Albus always spoke of Ariana had made the German imagine, even though he knew she was fifteen, a small child of perhaps seven or eight. She had not heard the door, her blue eyes focused on the piece of music in front of her. The young woman had light blond hair, and Gellert could imagine how it would shine in the sunlight if the curtains were open, and her thin frame was clothed in a white dress that was without any ornamentation.
Gellert walked up behind Ariana quietly, looking at the music she was looking at, as if she expected it to show her what key to play. After hearing her try again and fail to find the starting note, Gellert reached out, taking care not to startle the girl, and pressed the correct starting key, five keys away from where she had last tried.
She gave a soft gasp, and her head turned quickly to look at him, eyes wide. There was something in them, Gellert saw it. There was something that hinted that she could have been as brilliant as her older brother, if not for the misfortune that she had suffered, the misfortune that had driven her into her own mind.
“No, please,” Gellert murmured, seeing the girl scoot on the piano bench, slightly away from him. She looked ready to scream or cry or otherwise upset herself. “I’m a friend of your brother, of Albus. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She gave no verbal reply, but she seemed to understand. She rose from where she sat and moved away from the piano bench. One of her thin hands raised and pointed at Gellert before gesturing to the piano. When he did not move, her bottom lip seemed to quiver, and she repeated her actions, the motions a bit frantic. Gellert watched her carefully, and her intentions hit him.
“You want me to play?”
Ariana nodded, and Gellert saw her smile just slightly when he sat at the piano.
“This song?” He motioned to the sheet music on the piano, and the girl nodded again. As Gellert moved his hands into the position to start, Ariana smiled a small bit more.
Gellert took only a moment to look over the new music. He then lowered his head and repeated the starting note that Ariana had struggled to find and moved on, following the written music. It was not a particularly difficult piece of music, but Gellert thought he understood why Ariana liked it. It was a very gentle piece of music, flowing and soft. As he played, the young woman retired to the divan, her movements much more at ease than before the music had started.
She sat on the couch as he continued to play, and he sneaked a few looks at her. Her entire countenance had changed with the introduction of the music. She sat upright, her hands folded in her lap, a very regal position. Her head was tilted slightly, and her eyes were calm. She looked very much like a portrait of some princess or another. As she was, she looked the whole of fifteen years, possibly even more, unlike the scared, childish look she had possessed when he had played her first note before she knew he was there. It was the sight of her so entranced by the music that made Gellert appreciate what the Wizarding world had lost when she had been subjected to those Muggles. Had she grown up without interference, she would be this lovely and, he was sure, as talented as her brother. She would have been a further reason to associate himself with the Dumbledore family, but that was not to be. He had seen her as she was without the influence of this song, and she was unable to be saved, unable to be brought back to their world.
Still, under he and Albus, she could be protected, and they could keep her story from repeating itself with another young woman.
Gellert finished the song, and the spell was broken. As soon as the last chord faded into silence, Ariana’s adulthood had vanished, and her childish nature was back. She rose from the divan and went back to the piano, kneeling down and looking up at Gellert, her eyes narrowing until he rose from the bench. Once he was off, she placed her hands on the bench and raised the top, pulling out other sheets of music and spreading them out on the bench once its top was replaced. She looked up at Gellert, motioning to the ten or so songs that she had pulled out.
“Of course,” Gellert said quietly. “I’ll play as many as you want.”
Ariana beamed this time, though she was impatient as Gellert picked the pieces up, sat himself back on the bench and went through what he had been given. When he had finally sorted them into the order he felt like playing them in, he set the first on the piano, above the keys, and he began to play.
Ariana stood by the piano this time, the tune quicker than the first. It was a waltz, and Ariana made a few movements that seemed to suggest to Gellert that she was imagining being danced with, having a young man lead her through the steps of the dance across a floor with a crowd. Her movements stopped the moment that the song ended, and she looked at Gellert with a frown. He turned to the next sheet, raised his hands to play, but he stopped.
The music was a lullaby for a child, very simple music. Good for a beginner, as far as he was concerned. Ariana’s bottom lip quivered when it seemed that Gellert would not play the song, and her head tilted when he motioned for her to come over. She was hesitant, but she did approach him.
“Sit down,” he said warmly, and she obeyed, sitting beside him on the bench. She gave a soft, distressed gasp when he curled a hand around her hand, but he raised his other hand to touch her shoulder gently. “I’m going to teach you how to play this one.”
She stared at him, silent, and Gellert was not sure she understood. Still, he led her right hand onto the keyboard and separated the fingers, placing them in the correct position to play, pushing her wrist into an arched position. He placed his hand over hers, then.
“We start with this note,” he said gently, pressing on the correct finger, and she obeyed, pressing that finger down so the first note hung in the air. “Now this one,” he instructed, tapping on another finger, and Ariana obeyed again. He began to lead her through the song, though very slowly, keeping his finger on the appropriate knuckle of her hand until it was time to let go of the note, and she adapted quickly to this silent teaching. She looked determined as the song was started again, Gellert still giving her the unsaid instructions, but the tempo of the song was quicker now. Something in her eyes suggested to Gellert that she was recognizing the tune, no doubt something one of her parents had played her and possibly even tried to teach her. There was accompaniment for the song, but that could wait as far as he was concerned. Once she could know the melody without his assistance, then, he considered, he might have her play both parts, might introduce the second part to her. For now, however, he would not confuse her.
A fourth of the way into the third time through the song, Gellert giving less instruction about which note to play and how long to hold it, a sound distracted Ariana. The door to the music room had opened, much less quietly than Gellert had managed to do it, and the young woman looked up and over, eyes wide. She seemed like a child once again, caught doing something that she had been forbidden to do and waiting for punishment.
Two young men stood in the doorway. Aberforth and Albus Dumbledore stood together, looking at the sight of the two at the piano.
“I didn’t know he was here!” Aberforth was the first to speak, rounding on Albus. “You should at least tell me before you bring him over here!”
“Aberforth!” Albus was as angry as his brother, and he looked at the younger man. “I can choose what company I keep, and I can choose when they are over, whether or not I tell you!”
Ariana gave a quiet half-sob, her shoulders quivering as her two brothers prepared to argue with one another. She looked at them and then at Gellert, and Gellert saw the tears in her eyes. Even this slight amount of conflict, of raised voices, had upset her. He was not sure what would come of her being upset, but Albus had always indicated that nothing good could come from Ariana being upset, so he reached out and took her hand again and led it to the piano’s keys.
Her hand shook, but she pressed on the keys. One or two notes fell out of order, and the tempo was entirely wrong, hurried in some places and hesitant in others, but the sound caught the attention of the two brothers, and their eyes moved to the piano, to their sister.
“She’s playing?” Albus whispered.
“Ariana,” Aberforth began, taking a step toward the piano. “You haven’t played since before…” He trailed off when she did not seem to be paying attention. He looked at Gellert, a debate raging inside of him. “You taught her?”
“I’m trying to,” Gellert answered. Aberforth’s voice had hinted that an offer of a truce might be in the near future, but Gellert’s voice was aloof, and his head cocked just a touch. He considered himself Aberforth’s superior even now. He looked at Albus, and it was to the elder that he addressed his next remark, “She picks it up easily.”
“Mother taught her,” Albus replied quietly. Ariana was lost in playing, trying to correct the errors that she knew she made, but she did not look to Gellert for help. It was as if she had forgotten that she was not alone. “She taught her for about a year before it happened. Mother even wrote that song. She used it to put all of us to sleep when we insisted we weren’t tired.” His voice was tinted with sentimentality that Gellert tried to ignore.
“Neither of you play?” He looked at Aberforth for a moment, but the question was still directed at Albus.
“I never had a knack for it,” Albus admitted. “Aberforth never had the patience.”
“I tried to learn,” Aberforth muttered, though he knew that neither of the other two young men would care. “I tried to learn after what happened to Ariana. I thought music might help her. I knew it would.”
“Yet it seems,” Gellert murmured, a trace of a smirk crossing his features as he paused, “I succeeded where you failed.”
Aberforth thought about replying, but he held himself off. It would do no good to pick a fight where Albus was sure to take Gellert’s side and Ariana would merely get upset. He seemed to decide that it was best to let the other say what he wanted, as long as Ariana had found something that made her happy.
“You’re doing well,” Gellert said to Ariana as she finished playing the song. It had been badly played, but it had been recognizable at least. He raised a hand and ran it through her blond hair, and she smiled at him again. “I’ll come back tomorrow and we can keep working on it. Would you like that?”
She nodded slightly and rose, taking a frightened look around the room, at the three young men there, and she walked past her brothers as quickly as she could without running, and her soft footfall was heard ever so lightly on the stairs. A moment later, a door closed somewhere up on the second floor.
The three young men, left alone, looked at one another.
“I don’t like you being around her,” Aberforth stated. “I don’t like you being in this house or around Albus, but I especially don’t like you being anywhere near Ariana!” His voice raised considerably, but Gellert regarded him with a cool look.
“You have little say, don’t you?” Gellert replied, rising from the piano bench and stalking toward Aberforth. Albus considered speaking, it seemed, but he said nothing. “You are not her guardian. That position is allotted to Albus. Albus obvious thinks I’m good company, and it seems your sister likes me as well. What authority do you have to try and tell me not to be near her?” Every step he had taken, Aberforth had taken a step back, until the younger man was against a wall. Gellert left a foot or two of space between them, but Aberforth would have preferred more.
“Gellert,” Albus spoke when his friend had taken another step toward his younger brother. He looked into Gellert’s eyes, and the other relented, stepping away from Aberforth. “You are welcome to spend as much time as you would like to spend here. Neither Aberforth nor I have found a way to calm her down that much, and--”
“Because, of course, you’ve tried so hard,” Aberforth muttered under his breath, but Albus pretended not to hear him.
“And,” he resumed, “we are both grateful that there is something that she seems to take pleasure in, rather than just finding a situation where she’s least afraid.”
“Albus, would you be so kind as to walk me out?” Gellert requested, and Albus accepted with a smile.
“Good,” Aberforth said to himself. “About time you got out of here.” Neither of the older boys responded, the two already in the hall and heading for the door.
Albus and Gellert stopped at the door of the Dumbledore home, and Albus did not immediately open the door. Instead, he looked at Gellert. “I want to thank you, again. I’m sorry about leaving this morning, but I didn’t want Aberforth to delay in getting his books. I am very glad that you and Ariana seem to get along. I don’t remember the last time she didn’t hide from a visitor.”
“She was a delight to meet,” Gellert assured Albus. “I understand why you want to protect her so much; I’m sorry I didn’t quite understand before. I,” he hesitated, looking at his friend, right in the eyes, “I hope I will not be out of line saying that I plan to consider her my own sister from now on.” He smiled, an expression more sincere than the majority of the ones that Albus had seen on him. “I see why you want to protect her,” he repeated, “and we will make the world safe for her. You and I.”
Albus opened the door and followed Gellert out onto the porch. As Gellert descended the stairs, Albus offered him a smile and a wave, saying quietly, “I look forward to that day.”
Two Months of Insanity
Author/Artist:
DHFiccer aka Lynn
Rating:
PG-13
Pairing or Character(s):
Gellert Grindelwald/Albus Dumbledore
Disclaimer:
Not mine, naturally. Owned by J.K. Rowling, though I hope to do them justice.
Chapter Nine
Ariana’s Song
The midmorning sun hit against Gellert Grindelwald’s eyelids and forced them to open. He sat up in the bed and stared at the window. He could not figure out why he had never noticed that his great-aunt’s house faced east. As he looked around the room and the last bit of sleep was swept from him, he realized his mistake. He was not in his great-aunt’s house; he had spent the night with Albus. That brought another thought to mind: he was alone in bed.
The young man leaned backwards, arching his back until he heard a pop, and he gave a final yawn. He took another look around the too-tidy room and noticed a piece of paper with writing on it left on the desk. After he dressed, the clothes he had worn to come over in a small pile near the foot of the bed, Gellert rose and went to the desk.
‘Gellert-
Had to go to Gringotts. Aberforth needs new robes, and the goblins won’t let anyone who isn’t of age get money out. Shouldn’t be gone long. Make yourself at home.
Albus’
“Cad,” Gellert muttered to himself, but he chuckled. He took the note, folded it, and placed it in his pocket.
The young man left the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself out of habit, and he entered the washroom. A glance in the mirror allowed him to tame his hair slightly, the locks still wild from the previous night, and he splashed his face with cool water to fully wake himself up. Albus had said to make himself at home, but that wasn’t something that Gellert felt comfortable to do without Albus here. Still, he considered, a bit of food might be in order.
Gellert left the washroom and walked down the stairs, taking a short tour of the downstairs of the house, never having gotten the chance to do so before. There was no sign of Aberforth, and Gellert hoped that he was still asleep. He did not want to deal with that annoying child.
Only one door was closed, and Gellert stared at it for a few moments before he heard a sound from behind it. A piano. He knew the sound even though only one note had been played. A moment later, a second note was played, and the young man outside the room decided that there would be no harm in entering the room. Albus had said to make himself at home, and he felt like seeing what was in the room.
The room that was revealed was a fairly large room, much more open than others, where books lined the walls. Curtains hung over the windows, blocking out the morning sun, but the lamps were lit. There were places to seat, a divan and an armchair, but the main attraction of the room was a beautifully carved piano in the center of the room. Most remarkably, there was someone sitting at the piano, pressing her slim index finger onto a different key every moment or two, a small frown etched onto her features.
She was a pretty young woman, Gellert had to admit. The way that Albus always spoke of Ariana had made the German imagine, even though he knew she was fifteen, a small child of perhaps seven or eight. She had not heard the door, her blue eyes focused on the piece of music in front of her. The young woman had light blond hair, and Gellert could imagine how it would shine in the sunlight if the curtains were open, and her thin frame was clothed in a white dress that was without any ornamentation.
Gellert walked up behind Ariana quietly, looking at the music she was looking at, as if she expected it to show her what key to play. After hearing her try again and fail to find the starting note, Gellert reached out, taking care not to startle the girl, and pressed the correct starting key, five keys away from where she had last tried.
She gave a soft gasp, and her head turned quickly to look at him, eyes wide. There was something in them, Gellert saw it. There was something that hinted that she could have been as brilliant as her older brother, if not for the misfortune that she had suffered, the misfortune that had driven her into her own mind.
“No, please,” Gellert murmured, seeing the girl scoot on the piano bench, slightly away from him. She looked ready to scream or cry or otherwise upset herself. “I’m a friend of your brother, of Albus. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She gave no verbal reply, but she seemed to understand. She rose from where she sat and moved away from the piano bench. One of her thin hands raised and pointed at Gellert before gesturing to the piano. When he did not move, her bottom lip seemed to quiver, and she repeated her actions, the motions a bit frantic. Gellert watched her carefully, and her intentions hit him.
“You want me to play?”
Ariana nodded, and Gellert saw her smile just slightly when he sat at the piano.
“This song?” He motioned to the sheet music on the piano, and the girl nodded again. As Gellert moved his hands into the position to start, Ariana smiled a small bit more.
Gellert took only a moment to look over the new music. He then lowered his head and repeated the starting note that Ariana had struggled to find and moved on, following the written music. It was not a particularly difficult piece of music, but Gellert thought he understood why Ariana liked it. It was a very gentle piece of music, flowing and soft. As he played, the young woman retired to the divan, her movements much more at ease than before the music had started.
She sat on the couch as he continued to play, and he sneaked a few looks at her. Her entire countenance had changed with the introduction of the music. She sat upright, her hands folded in her lap, a very regal position. Her head was tilted slightly, and her eyes were calm. She looked very much like a portrait of some princess or another. As she was, she looked the whole of fifteen years, possibly even more, unlike the scared, childish look she had possessed when he had played her first note before she knew he was there. It was the sight of her so entranced by the music that made Gellert appreciate what the Wizarding world had lost when she had been subjected to those Muggles. Had she grown up without interference, she would be this lovely and, he was sure, as talented as her brother. She would have been a further reason to associate himself with the Dumbledore family, but that was not to be. He had seen her as she was without the influence of this song, and she was unable to be saved, unable to be brought back to their world.
Still, under he and Albus, she could be protected, and they could keep her story from repeating itself with another young woman.
Gellert finished the song, and the spell was broken. As soon as the last chord faded into silence, Ariana’s adulthood had vanished, and her childish nature was back. She rose from the divan and went back to the piano, kneeling down and looking up at Gellert, her eyes narrowing until he rose from the bench. Once he was off, she placed her hands on the bench and raised the top, pulling out other sheets of music and spreading them out on the bench once its top was replaced. She looked up at Gellert, motioning to the ten or so songs that she had pulled out.
“Of course,” Gellert said quietly. “I’ll play as many as you want.”
Ariana beamed this time, though she was impatient as Gellert picked the pieces up, sat himself back on the bench and went through what he had been given. When he had finally sorted them into the order he felt like playing them in, he set the first on the piano, above the keys, and he began to play.
Ariana stood by the piano this time, the tune quicker than the first. It was a waltz, and Ariana made a few movements that seemed to suggest to Gellert that she was imagining being danced with, having a young man lead her through the steps of the dance across a floor with a crowd. Her movements stopped the moment that the song ended, and she looked at Gellert with a frown. He turned to the next sheet, raised his hands to play, but he stopped.
The music was a lullaby for a child, very simple music. Good for a beginner, as far as he was concerned. Ariana’s bottom lip quivered when it seemed that Gellert would not play the song, and her head tilted when he motioned for her to come over. She was hesitant, but she did approach him.
“Sit down,” he said warmly, and she obeyed, sitting beside him on the bench. She gave a soft, distressed gasp when he curled a hand around her hand, but he raised his other hand to touch her shoulder gently. “I’m going to teach you how to play this one.”
She stared at him, silent, and Gellert was not sure she understood. Still, he led her right hand onto the keyboard and separated the fingers, placing them in the correct position to play, pushing her wrist into an arched position. He placed his hand over hers, then.
“We start with this note,” he said gently, pressing on the correct finger, and she obeyed, pressing that finger down so the first note hung in the air. “Now this one,” he instructed, tapping on another finger, and Ariana obeyed again. He began to lead her through the song, though very slowly, keeping his finger on the appropriate knuckle of her hand until it was time to let go of the note, and she adapted quickly to this silent teaching. She looked determined as the song was started again, Gellert still giving her the unsaid instructions, but the tempo of the song was quicker now. Something in her eyes suggested to Gellert that she was recognizing the tune, no doubt something one of her parents had played her and possibly even tried to teach her. There was accompaniment for the song, but that could wait as far as he was concerned. Once she could know the melody without his assistance, then, he considered, he might have her play both parts, might introduce the second part to her. For now, however, he would not confuse her.
A fourth of the way into the third time through the song, Gellert giving less instruction about which note to play and how long to hold it, a sound distracted Ariana. The door to the music room had opened, much less quietly than Gellert had managed to do it, and the young woman looked up and over, eyes wide. She seemed like a child once again, caught doing something that she had been forbidden to do and waiting for punishment.
Two young men stood in the doorway. Aberforth and Albus Dumbledore stood together, looking at the sight of the two at the piano.
“I didn’t know he was here!” Aberforth was the first to speak, rounding on Albus. “You should at least tell me before you bring him over here!”
“Aberforth!” Albus was as angry as his brother, and he looked at the younger man. “I can choose what company I keep, and I can choose when they are over, whether or not I tell you!”
Ariana gave a quiet half-sob, her shoulders quivering as her two brothers prepared to argue with one another. She looked at them and then at Gellert, and Gellert saw the tears in her eyes. Even this slight amount of conflict, of raised voices, had upset her. He was not sure what would come of her being upset, but Albus had always indicated that nothing good could come from Ariana being upset, so he reached out and took her hand again and led it to the piano’s keys.
Her hand shook, but she pressed on the keys. One or two notes fell out of order, and the tempo was entirely wrong, hurried in some places and hesitant in others, but the sound caught the attention of the two brothers, and their eyes moved to the piano, to their sister.
“She’s playing?” Albus whispered.
“Ariana,” Aberforth began, taking a step toward the piano. “You haven’t played since before…” He trailed off when she did not seem to be paying attention. He looked at Gellert, a debate raging inside of him. “You taught her?”
“I’m trying to,” Gellert answered. Aberforth’s voice had hinted that an offer of a truce might be in the near future, but Gellert’s voice was aloof, and his head cocked just a touch. He considered himself Aberforth’s superior even now. He looked at Albus, and it was to the elder that he addressed his next remark, “She picks it up easily.”
“Mother taught her,” Albus replied quietly. Ariana was lost in playing, trying to correct the errors that she knew she made, but she did not look to Gellert for help. It was as if she had forgotten that she was not alone. “She taught her for about a year before it happened. Mother even wrote that song. She used it to put all of us to sleep when we insisted we weren’t tired.” His voice was tinted with sentimentality that Gellert tried to ignore.
“Neither of you play?” He looked at Aberforth for a moment, but the question was still directed at Albus.
“I never had a knack for it,” Albus admitted. “Aberforth never had the patience.”
“I tried to learn,” Aberforth muttered, though he knew that neither of the other two young men would care. “I tried to learn after what happened to Ariana. I thought music might help her. I knew it would.”
“Yet it seems,” Gellert murmured, a trace of a smirk crossing his features as he paused, “I succeeded where you failed.”
Aberforth thought about replying, but he held himself off. It would do no good to pick a fight where Albus was sure to take Gellert’s side and Ariana would merely get upset. He seemed to decide that it was best to let the other say what he wanted, as long as Ariana had found something that made her happy.
“You’re doing well,” Gellert said to Ariana as she finished playing the song. It had been badly played, but it had been recognizable at least. He raised a hand and ran it through her blond hair, and she smiled at him again. “I’ll come back tomorrow and we can keep working on it. Would you like that?”
She nodded slightly and rose, taking a frightened look around the room, at the three young men there, and she walked past her brothers as quickly as she could without running, and her soft footfall was heard ever so lightly on the stairs. A moment later, a door closed somewhere up on the second floor.
The three young men, left alone, looked at one another.
“I don’t like you being around her,” Aberforth stated. “I don’t like you being in this house or around Albus, but I especially don’t like you being anywhere near Ariana!” His voice raised considerably, but Gellert regarded him with a cool look.
“You have little say, don’t you?” Gellert replied, rising from the piano bench and stalking toward Aberforth. Albus considered speaking, it seemed, but he said nothing. “You are not her guardian. That position is allotted to Albus. Albus obvious thinks I’m good company, and it seems your sister likes me as well. What authority do you have to try and tell me not to be near her?” Every step he had taken, Aberforth had taken a step back, until the younger man was against a wall. Gellert left a foot or two of space between them, but Aberforth would have preferred more.
“Gellert,” Albus spoke when his friend had taken another step toward his younger brother. He looked into Gellert’s eyes, and the other relented, stepping away from Aberforth. “You are welcome to spend as much time as you would like to spend here. Neither Aberforth nor I have found a way to calm her down that much, and--”
“Because, of course, you’ve tried so hard,” Aberforth muttered under his breath, but Albus pretended not to hear him.
“And,” he resumed, “we are both grateful that there is something that she seems to take pleasure in, rather than just finding a situation where she’s least afraid.”
“Albus, would you be so kind as to walk me out?” Gellert requested, and Albus accepted with a smile.
“Good,” Aberforth said to himself. “About time you got out of here.” Neither of the older boys responded, the two already in the hall and heading for the door.
Albus and Gellert stopped at the door of the Dumbledore home, and Albus did not immediately open the door. Instead, he looked at Gellert. “I want to thank you, again. I’m sorry about leaving this morning, but I didn’t want Aberforth to delay in getting his books. I am very glad that you and Ariana seem to get along. I don’t remember the last time she didn’t hide from a visitor.”
“She was a delight to meet,” Gellert assured Albus. “I understand why you want to protect her so much; I’m sorry I didn’t quite understand before. I,” he hesitated, looking at his friend, right in the eyes, “I hope I will not be out of line saying that I plan to consider her my own sister from now on.” He smiled, an expression more sincere than the majority of the ones that Albus had seen on him. “I see why you want to protect her,” he repeated, “and we will make the world safe for her. You and I.”
Albus opened the door and followed Gellert out onto the porch. As Gellert descended the stairs, Albus offered him a smile and a wave, saying quietly, “I look forward to that day.”