Author: Magiquill9Chapter 1 of : The Memories of Aberforth Dumbledore
Ships: Harry and Ginny, Hermione and Ron, Bill and Fleur, and Lupin and Tonks.
Chapter Synopsis: Aberforth reflects on Mundungus Fletcher's banishment, a thrilling tale of Albus's, his new job, and has an interesting visitor.
Story Summary: HBP raised as many questions as it answered. How can Harry find a horcrux? How can he destroy the horcruxes? Everything was laid out, and we were about to jump off the cliff. Here's where the cliffhanger ends and the adventure begins. Join Harry and friends as they struggle to lead the wizarding world out of despair, fight the good fight, and put an end to the evil that is Tom Riddle.
Disclaimer: To my new readers, welcome, to my old readers, welcome back. It is time to venture into another story of mine. I apologize for the Harry/Hermione from last time; I just lost the heart for it. I have found my heart though, in this story. It is going to be Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione of course, but all in good time, all in good time. I do hope you enjoy it. Of course, none of Harry Potter belongs to me, or anything from the Potter universe, although I did make up a couple of spells with the help of a Latin translator, but I digress. Here is chapter one, the post HBP story. Point of View for this story will be all Harry, except of course, chapter one will belong to Aberforth Dumbledore, our goat-loving bartender at the Hog's Head. So here, for your entertainment, is chapter 1: The Memories of Aberforth Dumbledore.
Aberforth Dumbledore sat back, absentmindedly rinsing a dirty bottle, and staring at his pub, the Hog's Head. He looked towards the worn and dusty stairs and saw the door leading out. He noticed the chunk missing from the wall, where he had hit one of the men that had been banned from his pub. He realized that his life wouldn't be that exciting anymore after tonight. After his brother's death, he had become somehow less important. Before, he had always been friendly with the late headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He would relay invaluable information to his dear brother, but now he would constantly find himself thinking back on memories of the past. One night in particular came to mind, the night that changed everything. It had been a cold and rainy night in the Hog's head, many years ago.
Before he could properly remember though, his eyes strayed across the wall. A memory then caught Aberforth and he watched himself through it. He saw a chunk he took out of the wall and remembered Mundungus Fletcher. He remembered throwing him out of the pub and banning him as well. He remembered what happened like it was yesterday. He had a very good memory.
Dung had been sitting there, doing another one of his illicit trades with another man whom Aberforth didn't know. The man was angered by Dung and began to start a fight. Dung quickly stopped the man, but not before he had broken half of the goods in the pub due to his poor wand aim. Aberforth was furious at the man. The other man ran and apparated away, but Dung was caught, and subsequently kicked out. He had vowed to never let him back in, but all that had changed last year. There were a few things Aberforth had needed for a friend, and Dung was in the position to acquire them. He had handed over quite a few things to Aberforth, items that had at one point resided in #12 Grimmauld Place. He had a photo of the Blacks, a music box, a lovely golden locket with a chain, a couple of goblets, and a book that he had needed, a book that contained very dark arts in them, a book about horcruxes, items that would be enchanted to contain a piece of someone's soul.
A murder was required to split the soul and place it in the item, thus giving the user a version of immortality, because his soul would be linked to this realm. The way to create a horcrux was very complicated, as was to destroy it, and it was all in that book, a book that hadn't seen the light of day for quite awhile, but now was forced to reemerge into the chaotic world. These items were all of value to someone. Dung had given them over, but the young Harry Potter had interrupted their trade. Aberforth had walked away, his possessions secure, but Dung was apprehended, and forced to apparate away. Aberforth had put away his newly purchased items and waited. The man was supposed to come sometime soon, unless something happened. Aberforth knew he would be unable to talk to the man once Aberforth took up his post at Hogwarts.
Aberforth was brought out of his memories by a loud noise. He turned around and looked, wondering who had entered his bar. He saw a young man in a cloak approaching his bar and recognized him.
"Aberforth," he growled.
"Hello, how may I help you?" he asked respectfully.
"Do you have my possessions?" the man asked bluntly.
"Yes as a matter of fact. Here they are." Aberforth slowly walked back towards a magical safe in the back, fully aware of the eyes trained on his retreating figure. He arrived at the safe and opened it, withdrawing the items he had bought from Dung. Now in hand, he walked back to the front and handed them to the man in the cloak.
The man began sorting through the items, pausing on each one to ascertain its true identity. He flopped into a nearby chair after pocketing the photo and necklace, and after placing the goblets and music box into his suitcase, began to read, oblivious to his surroundings. Aberforth shrugged, and continued to wash the bottle in his hand. Then, he began to remember when it all started, the first time.
Albus had been sitting with him one day, sharing a firewhiskey, as he told a story. Albus, Aberforth noted, was a very good storyteller. Especially when the subject matter was highly entertaining. The year had been 1945. The war was over. Grindelwald was defeated. Aberforth asked Albus how he did it. And that's how the memory started.
"What happened Albus?" Aberforth asked, eyes burning with excitement, as if he was asking for a particularly delicious treat.
"Well, we had been tracking his movements for quite sometime-" Albus began simply.
"We? You are a Transfiguration teacher! What else are you involved in?" Aberforth was still shocked as well, but curiosity got the better of him, so he paid attention.
"As I was saying, we attempted to track down Grindelwald over a number of occasions. I joined to help, for personal reasons, of which you yourself know."
Aberforth fell silent, remembering the other story Albus had told him, of how Grindelwald had murdered their parents, and forced Albus to watch them be killed and it wasn't only their parents, but also Albus's wife. That had been over 30 years ago. After that, he had never fallen in love again, and that was a mistake that Albus would always regret for the rest of his life. A mistake that Albus constantly complained about. Aberforth then paid attention to the story. Albus had given a respectful silence, waiting for his brother to collect his thoughts.
"When we found him in Germany, the aurors charged. I noticed something different about Grindelwald though, something that I had never felt before. It was almost like he wasn't – human. He had changed. The rumors then, were true. He had done the unthinkable, he had created a horcrux." Albus allowed for the significance of his statement to sink in. It was a powerful charge to make against someone.
"A horcrux Albus? Are you certain?" Aberforth asked, astounded that someone had actually gone that far to do that. Because, to create a horcrux, one must not only kill somebody, which is bad enough, but must then split his soul, something that went against all the beliefs of the time.
"Yes. And when they killed him, he refused to die. His spirit lingered and he attacked. An interesting attribute of having a horcrux is you lose your identity, in some sense. You have no whole soul, therefore your soul, like an element such as oxygen, attempts to combine with another soul to become whole. Therefore, his soul is capable of possessing animals, or even people. That was how I knew he had not died. I sensed his spirit, in essence. Now, when he killed our parents, I noticed him casting an interesting spell. He first marked our father, and something appeared on him, which marked him as the kill to be used to create the horcrux. Then, after the death, he pointed at the object in his hand, gave an incantation, and the object glowed, then became still, as had Grindelwald. I had been petrified at the time and was forced to watch. With a start, I realized that he had created a horcrux, and I knew exactly what it looked like. He had used a staff, which now had a mark on it to show it was a horcrux. So I knew exactly what to look for as well. And I found it. He had hidden it in a place of high significance to him: his place of birth. A book that I had also uncovered on very dark arts, and the element of horcruxes, was instrumental to me. I knew how to destroy it." Dumbledore took a breath and then continued.
"However, there was a catch. A horcrux, when the item is destroyed, will release the piece of soul it holds. That piece will then attempt to recombine with the original soul, if it is near. If it is not, then it will attempt to possess the nearest person or animal. So I knew, that when the horcrux was destroyed, that his soul would attempt to possess me. In the worst-case scenario, it would enter my body, and I would be forced to destroy whatever it entered, if I wished to be able to kill the owner of the soul. Otherwise, the soul would have just stayed within me, merged with my own over time, and the possibility would exist that his soul would be able to take control of mine. But Grindelwald would stay immortal until I died and released the soul. Because when the person dies, the soul is released and goes to the veil. Then, say for example it had entered my arm, I would be forced to use a complex spell, which would in essence kill, my arm. The unfortunate side effect however, is that the death of my arm would stay with me. It would slowly eat away myself, until I died. The best defense I would have would be to of course, put a stopper on death, but I know of no one as of yet who would be able to accomplish that. And even then, that would just prolong the inevitable. The other option I had of course was when the soul came out to destroy the soul itself. That would be with the same complex spell I would have to use if it entered my body. Aside from that spell, short of having a dementor kiss me or creating a horcrux of my own, the soul would be free. Making a horcrux of my own would only rid it from myself, not destroy it, so that would not work. A dementor kissing me was also unacceptable, because I would be gone as well. Although the dementor would suck out Grindelwald's soul and destroy it, my soul would be sucked up and destroyed as well, which is something that I would not want to have happen to me." Dumbledore made another pause, as he reflected on his words.
"So the spell was my only chance, my only defense. After a simple reductor curse to destroy the object, the soul came out of the horcrux I had just destroyed, and I quickly waved my wand in one circle, followed by a stab through the center, and a sweep of my wand, with the nonverbal incantation attero animus, a difficult spell to complete at the best of times, under no pressure, and the spell must be cast nonverbally, otherwise, it won't work. I quickly did the circle, followed by the jab. The soul began to descend upon me, and I was able to finish the sweep, followed almost simultaneously by the incantation, and destroyed it because of my fast reflexes and able limbs. Had I been older, I shudder to think what would have happened. I was able to destroy that piece of his soul, without suffering any side effects or having the soul enter me."
"I then of course went back after Grindelwald, and noticed he was currently possessing a man who had been kissed by a dementor in an earlier attack. It was highly interesting, if I had the time to think about it. But I didn't have time. I had to act. My hand had been forced, and it was my move. We circled each other, staring, glaring, taunting. I was forced to vanquish him. I invoked an ancient magic. It initiated Priori Incantatum first. We were locked in the golden dome, and forced to push the beads of magic this way and that. When I finally forced the beads into his wand, the reverse of the spells he had performed appeared. Bodies began to reappear. I concentrated with all my might, trained my wand on him while nonverbally performing the spell debello atrum senior ex is regnum, and wrenched my wand away at the end of the incantation. I then moved my wand in an arc and stabbed it forward. Then, to my surprise, he began to fight me for my body. He possessed me, in short, as he had before to others. We struggled once more, a battle of wills. But then, my love surged up inside me, and it forced him out and his soul, no longer rooted to this realm, disappeared in a wisp of smoke. I had succeeded in my quest to vanquish Grindelwald. I then collapsed into the ground. It was then that a phoenix, Fawkes, came to me. He healed me. There was one part of the spell that required a sacrifice on my part. Had it not been for Fawkes…I have no idea what he did, but it did save me from having to fulfill my sacrifice. The sacrifice I would have had to make… But it is irrelevant, because none of that matters anymore. I am here and am safe for the time being."
"Wow Albus. What a story." Aberforth was breathless, as was Albus.
"A thrilling tale, wouldn't you say? But it has taken too much out of me. I am off to return the book I borrowed from the Black's, and I shall return to Hogwarts. My students need me. Good day Aberforth."
"You too Albus."
Aberforth returned back to the present, and stared at the man reading the book that his brother had returned to the Blacks, so long ago. He stared at the man in the black cloak, who was still reading the book. Eventually, he stood up, and seemed to look around, as if trying to decide what to do. Aberforth watched him as he walked up the stairs, pausing at the prophecy room, as Aberforth had christened it, and walking back and forth, almost willing himself to remember something, it seemed like. Aberforth looked on, interested at what was taking place. The man seemed to shake his head from time to time, and then barricaded himself in the room.
Aberforth gave a sigh and continued once again on the bottle. The door to the pub swung open once again and permitted a woman to enter.
"Minerva, what a surprise. Would you like something to drink?" Aberforth asked cordially.
"No thank you Abe. I'm perfectly fine. I was just coming to ask you, -"
"If I would be willing to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?"
"I, how did you know?"
"Albus had asked me almost a year ago. I had of course, readily agreed. But it seems as if you are also going to be lacking a Transfiguration teacher as well."
"Yes, that's true. Well in that case, did you have someone in mind?"
"I'm sorry Minerva, but I don't. What about you?"
"Well, there is one person I had in mind…"
"And who might that be?"
"A Miss Fleur Delacour, soon to be Weasley. She attended Beauxbatons."
"That sounds like a splendid choice. Go ahead and ask her then."
"Oh alright. I hadn't wanted to but it seems like I don't have much of a choice. It is so hard to find new teachers; I don't know how Albus did it. I am glad to know my staffing problems are complete then. I will also need a head of Gryffindor house…" McGonagall mused out loud.
"It normally comes with the Transfiguration post doesn't it?" Abe asked.
"Well, yes, but-" McGonagall began hesitantly.
"Then give it to Fleur if she takes the job." Aberforth said, as if it was the simplest decision in the world.
"But- oh alright. That's settled then. I'm off to go ask her. Take care of yourself Abe," McGonagall replied, smiling slightly.
"Sure thing," Aberforth said and gave her a polite nod on her way out.
After that, Professor McGonagall left, the door swinging shut behind her. Aberforth stared expectantly upstairs and saw the man in the cloak come back down. He walked towards his suitcase and picked it up, then walked back up to his room again. Aberforth heard a loud noise, a bang, and then heard something fall to the floor. He sighed and strolled purposefully upstairs to check on the man and saw his wand pointing skyward, and the man on the floor, knocked out. He gave another sigh and muttered "you know, you do deserve this for doing all that on your own. I should just leave you here. But I won't," Aberforth said to the air. He cast an enervate and looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
"We're good. Thanks a lot Aberforth."
"Anytime, it's the least that I can do. Up you get now." He helped the man to stand and walked back to his bar, his earlier anger forgotten.
The man came back down the stairs, every other stair creaking, and his cloak swept behind him. He nodded once to Aberforth and walked towards the door.
"Good day to you Aberforth. Please, do stay in touch."
"I will. Good-bye, Regulus."
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