Written For:

The Houses Competition, Year 1, Themed, Gryffindor, Understanding, [Speech] "Just look me in the eyes and tell me he is not the devil, please."

Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments: Assignment 5, Term 8, Muggle Art: Task 2, "Write about something good happening on a starry night", Gryffindor

Word Count: 2384

In a twist of fate that was maybe ironic, but probably just cruel, Albus first read the Tale of the Three Brothers with his own brother and sister. For the rest of this life, he would remember that day clearly - a sunny summer Saturday where all three siblings were together in happiness, before his family was torn apart.

He was seven, and already reading books that Hogwarts first-years struggled with. He was halfway through a book about the Goblin Wars, written by Bathilda Bagshot in the years far before she was famous.

Aberforth had been reading too. Or looking at pictures, rather. Comics featuring Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle were strewn in the grass around the three children, their orange and red covers clashing horribly with the green shrubbery and white flowers. If Aberforth was too old to still be struggling over Martin Miggs, nobody cared.

Bees hummed, and Albus closed his eyes, sinking further into the hammock.

"Al-us!" His sister pronounced his name like "Alice", to Aberforth's endless amusement. But Albus didn't mind. Ariana was an adorable, excited toddler, with brown hair the color of his favorite chocolate and the sweetest smile Albus had ever seen. While the neighbor's children fidgeted, Ariana listened to his stories of goblin rebellions and potions he was someday going to make, blue eyes wide and enraptured.

He loved his brother, and he loved his parents. But Ariana was a part of him in a way even they weren't. Some part of him, a part he couldn't come close to understanding, already craved an equal, a best friend. And he saw that in his mischievous, adoring sister.

"Al-us!" She plopped down beside him, a book in her hand. "Read to us, Al-us!"

At this, Aberforth looked up, clearly interested.

Ariana pressed a small leather volume into his hand, one he quickly recognized as The Tales of Beedle the Bard from the creased parchment and worn bindings. He smiled, flipping the pages to Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump—their favorite.

But this time, Ariana shook her head. "Read the last one, Al-us!"

His mother and father, Albus then realized, had never quite gotten to reading the Tale of Three Brothers to him. Shrugging, he began. "There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…"

By the time he was finished, he was thirsty and his voice was hoarse – it was far longer, he thought, than the rest of the Bard's tales. Maybe that was why Kendra never read it. He slid off the hammock, nearly landing on his poor brother, and headed to the kitchen, his siblings following.

"Could I have some water, Mum?"

Both parents, both clad in full wizarding robes, smiled as their children entered. "Of course, darling." Percival swished his wand, conjuring and filling a glass. "Been reading to your brother and sister?"

Albus nodded. "Why did you never read us the Tale of the Three Brothers, Father?"

But before he could answer, Ariana piped up. "I'd want the wand!"

Aberforth, whose pet cat had died the previous month, scowled. "Don't be daft. I'd want the stone."

Drinking heartily, Albus cast his siblings an exasperated look. "Weren't you listening? You're supposed to take the cloak!"

Because even back then, Albus understood the Greater Good.

That night, his father takes Albus on a walk. They go up the ridge behind the village. It's a clear night, and silent except for the occasional hoot of an owl. The waning moon casts little light, meaning the stars are a million silver pin pricks around them.

"Always gave me shivers, that story you read today."

Albus nods, because in truth it disturbed him too. "I agree, sir."

"The Cloak is a wise choice." Percival puts his arm around his son, and they gaze into the valley below.

Albus nods again. He doesn't think of it as a choice, really. It's good, and correct.

He knows about the Greater Good. Even then.

Percival sighs. "Me, though? I'd choose the wand. Could really protect my family, with a wand like that."

At this, Albus turns and stares at his father. "Why would you need it?"

Percival meets his son's eyes, but his focus is elsewhere. "You have different responsibilities, as a father." And then suddenly his focus is fully on Albus, so overpowering the boy steps back. Percival grips him powerfully, almost uncomfortably. "You're a good child, Albus. Smart. Strong. Anyone hurts you or your siblings or your Mum and I wouldn't need a wand to kill them. The good protect the weak, Albus."

"Of course, sir." Their eyes meet, and an owl screeches again.

"It's a lot to ask, of a boy so young."

But Albus is ready. He would never disappoint his father. He lifts his chin and stands straighter, no longer flinching under the man's scrutiny.

"Should anything happen to me... Son. Protect our family."

For a few moments, Albus doesn't speak. When he does, his voice is steady. "I understand, sir."

It was Gellert who first told Albus to forget about the Greater Good, to be selfish. Ironic, really. Or maybe just cruel.

Albus wanted to be selfish, wanted it so much that it came out in resentment and righteousness, earning him the scorn of his ungrateful, unrefined brother.

Gellert grinned, sinking into Bathilda's armchair, the mischievous glint in his eyes reminding Albus so much of Ariana. The old Ariana. The one who wasn't painful to look at, who was supposed to grow up and be Albus's best friend and worshipper, everything Aberforth wasn't—not this shell of a person. The shell of a person who only had eyes for the brother who hated Albus.

Gellert's golden locks contrasted beautifully with the crimson of Bathilda's living room, reminding Albus of home…

...of the Gryffindor Common Room, which he tried to remind himself wasn't his home, Godric's Hollow was. "You've given up so much to tend to Ariana, for Merlin's sake! Surely you could spend one weekend with your boyfriend?" He snapped his fingers, and a plate of ginger cookies materialized on the small table between them. "And have a biscuit." Smiling with satisfaction, he chewed.

Shifting guiltily, Albus shrugged. "I can't ask Aberforth to leave school. Even for a weekend. He's my younger brother and he must finish his education."

But Gellert shifted tactics easily, carelessly helping himself to another cookie. "We need time to plan, Albus. You want to find the Hallows as much as I do. Think what we can accomplish without—"

"Tea, boys!"

Bathilda sauntered in, steaming kettle and teacups hovering after her. The smell of scones wafted in from the kitchen. Albus smiled appreciatively, even as he felt Gellert stiffen, annoyed.

Gellert's foul mood put a damper on the tea, Bathilda trying and failing to engage them in conversation until the grandfather clock chimed four, signaling Albus's departure.

"I ought to check in on Ariana. Thank you so much, ma'am." He strode from the sitting room, scarlet robes billowing after him.

Gellert caught him at the door, clearly irritated. For half a second, the anger in his eyes scared Albus. But it was gone instantly, and the two men brushed fingers.

"I'm sorry, Gellert. It's for—" For what? The Greater Good? At some point, Albus had believed that. But he and Gellert were seeking a good beyond his family.

A world where nobody would be hurt as Ariana had been. Shouldn't he be able to sacrifice Ariana for that? One Ariana for thousands of Arianas.

"It's just for me, I guess."

Gellert pulled him onto Bathilda's front porch, closing the door behind them. "Is it Al?" He pressed him against the wall, hands gentle as he stroked Albus's hair. "Is this really for you?"

Aberforth, who had been desperate to stay with Ariana instead of returning to Hogwarts, is furious that Albus wants him to leave for a weekend. But Headmaster Dippet grants the favor immediately, and Albus tries to pretend that the joy on his siblings' faces as they see each other doesn't hurt.

He and Gellert stay in the mountains near Hogsmeade, close to Hogwarts in case Albus is needed. They spend the first morning pouring over scrolls and duel records, searching for Percival's favorite Hallow. They laugh about invented spells and take turns using Polyjuice to transform into one another, although Albus isn't quite sure he likes the feel of being Gellert.

They conjure up a fire to cook supper, and sit by it long after. It's a beautiful night.

Gellert's skin is soft, and he smells of pine and ash. They kiss, and Albus forgets everything but their sweet love. Then Gellert whispers in his ear, soft and mellifluous. "For the Greater Good, Albus. Always."

"I understand, Gellert." They kiss again, arms wrapped around one another. "I – I love you, Gellert."

Ironically, it was Aberforth who made Albus understand just how much he was capable of love.

He'd been Transfiguration professor only a few years, keen to build something meaningful within the walls of Hogwarts. A few days before Yule, he set out to finish his Christmas shopping. By then the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade were covered in thick snow, faint footprints and sleigh tracks already fading as more flakes fell.

It was late evening by the time he left Honeydukes, hands full with ten different types of chocolate. The last vestiges of sunset could be seen above the rooftops.

"For someone special, Albus?"

It was old Madam Marbeth, pointing at the colorful boxes in his arms.

He nodded. "Someone." It was for Madam Lowell, the Arithmancy witch.

Gellert would have preferred something more powerful than candy, anyway.

Madam Marbeth accompanied him to the end of the village, Albus concerned that her cane would give way at any moment. But she insisted she wanted "the fresh air", and Albus saw what it meant to her. But by the time he reached the outskirts of the castle grounds, it was dark. A tawny owl soared overhead as Albus bid Madam Marbeth a good night.

Another man might have walked on, oblivious or content or maybe just enjoying the serenity. But Albus knew his brother.

"How long have you been following me, Aberforth?"

His brother said nothing in response.

"Would—"

But he knew his brother had no desire to join him for Yule. They had been down that road before. What could he say? I'm sorry, Aberforth. It was always too late.

"Think they're yer family, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"I see ya." Aberforth moved out of the shadows, right beside Albus. "Buyin' 'em all presents. Helpin' old ladies cross the street."

Were they his family? In a sense, yes. Maybe the closest thing he had to one. He did love them, as much as he might allow himself to. But…

"You are my family, Aberforth."

Aberforth laughed emptily. "Do ya still love him, Albus? Because if ya do? Yer no family to any of us."

And then his brother was gone.

Albus saw a tear fall from his nose into the snow. "I understand, Aberforth."

Back in his tower, he paces beside Fawkes's perch, Ariana's picture in his hand.

Always in his hand.

"Can you forgive me, Ariana?"

But he's asking a photograph. A Muggle photograph, at that.

"Just…"

And he feels disgusted with himself for even asking it of her. And her eyes are so like his own.

"Just look me in the eyes and tell me he is not the devil, please."

He thinks about the Stone.

It was Harry who taught Albus about death. There is no irony, there. He told himself he wanted to protect the boy, and he did, he wanted it so much he ached with the pain of it. But he had himself to protect, too.

By then, he'd had a hundred years of regret. A lifetime of fighting evil, and his own failings were still burned under the cursed ring on his finger.

Ginny Weasley made her way to the Gryffindor table, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. Harry grinned as the redhead sat down, true happiness lighting up his face. Harry always had a smile for the ones he loved.

The children dug into their meal, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley joining the couple. Then the sausages and eggs vanished, and Harry took a last drink of pumpkin juice as the golden goblets disappeared. And Albus barely touched his own food.

Minerva touched Albus's shoulder, chiding. "Honestly, Albus. It's a beautiful morning."

She, he knew, worried after Harry a great deal. They all did.

Severus shot Albus a far darker glance, not bothering to Occlude the hatred he felt for the older man. Well, Albus supposed that was deserved. He'd told the man to send Lily's son to his death.

He'd sent Ariana to her death. He'd sent Gellert to prison. Gellert had written to him, once. A letter that had gone into the fire along with his tears. Gellert was dead, and nothing, not even a Resurrection Stone, could call back the man Albus loved, the man who had never existed.

Harry caught his eye as the sixth-years filed out of the Great Hall. And he smiled.

He blessed Albus with the look he reserved for the ones he loved.

The headmaster left the staff table last that morning. He peered at his picture of Ariana, tears blurring his glasses.

"Just look me in the eyes, Ariana. And tell me I'm not the devil. Please."

He stuns Harry, his last action to save the boy.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The last thing he sees is Severus's loathing.

Under a starry sky, Harry Potter returned to the forest.

Albus thought of that night so long ago, when his own father had commanded him to take the wand.

I open at the close.

Harry Potter, the Master of Death, called his loved ones to him.

Albus watched him. Green light, and then nothing.

Harry turned from his mentor, ready to return to the world of the living.

And then Albus finally understood.

It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.