CHAPTER 202: CHAPTER 202

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"No, it’s just a form of time magic," Veratia said softly. "A spell that allows me to be frozen in time, so I can travel a hundred years into the future to find Harry."

"I see," Aberforth nodded, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. Then, he suddenly jerked his head up. "Wait, what did you say? Harry? Which Harry? You mean that Harry? Harry Potter?!"

His voice rose to a shocked roar. "Merlin’s beard, isn’t he Lily and James’s son? How could he just..."

"Hey! Goat boy!" Phineas’s voice snapped from the portrait frame. "I’m warning you, if you keep shouting like that, I’ll deduct points from Gryffindor!"

He was clearly half-asleep, still under the delusion he was Hogwarts’ headmaster.

Harry seemed unfazed, as if he’d grown accustomed to such outbursts.

"If you’re asking which Harry Potter," Harry said calmly, "I’m indeed that Harry Potter, and also this Harry Potter."

"Merlin’s beard..." Aberforth leaned forward, still struggling to believe it. "Good heavens, are you really that legendary wizard? I grew up hearing stories about you..."

The situation was, admittedly, a bit overwhelming.

Picture this: a white-bearded old man, his face creased with wrinkles like a weathered map, telling a clearly thirteen-year-old, wide-eyed boy, "Hello, I grew up on your stories."

"Er, I’m not..." Harry’s gaze flickered nervously toward Gellert, who was standing nearby.

The problem was, compared to the scar-headed boy, Gellert suddenly found this "goat boy" rather charming in his own rugged way. Instead of bailing Harry out, Gellert opted to sit back and enjoy the show, practically munching on imaginary nuts.

Still, Gellert had already thought up a quip to rescue Harry, something like, "Hey, goat boy, Scarhead’s no goat!"

"If you can travel through time," Aberforth said, his throat bobbing as he shot a venomous glance at Gellert before turning to Harry with a pleading look, "could you... could you save Ariana?"

Having seen Dumbledore’s memories, Veratia knew of Ariana, but she wasn’t privy to the depth of Aberforth’s bond with his sister or their family’s circumstances. She asked gently, "Mr. Dumbledore, if it’s not too much trouble, could you tell us about your sister?"

Dumbledore, seated in his chair, looked up. For the first time, Harry saw a faint trace of sorrow in his eyes.

Aberforth let out a soft sigh, as if gathering his thoughts—or reluctant to voice them.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"It all started when my sister was six..."

"The story is infuriating, to be honest. Back then, she was attacked by three Muggle boys. It sounds absurd, but they saw her performing magic through the hedge in our back garden. She was just a child, unable to control her powers. You know how it is with young wizards at that age—they can’t harness their magic. They feel it, are driven by it, but they can’t command it."

"You know how Muggles in those days felt about wizards. They thought Ariana was a monster, a freak. They pushed through the hedge. She couldn’t explain how she did magic—they might’ve been jealous, or maybe it was something else, but they wanted to stop the ’little monster’ from using it again."

Aberforth’s eyes reddened, his fists clenched so tightly it seemed he’d cast an Unforgivable Curse without hesitation if those Muggle boys appeared before him now.

Harry, too, felt a pang of sympathy. He remembered how he’d reacted when he learned Veratia had been bullied—he couldn’t help but step in.

Instinctively, he reached out and took Veratia’s hand.

Veratia returned a gentle smile, pulling Harry into an embrace and subtly channeling a bit of magic to comfort him.

Aberforth noticed their gesture, and seeing the age gap between them, his brows furrowed sharply.

But now wasn’t the time to address that. He continued, "That’s how it happened. Those bastards destroyed Ariana—completely destroyed her. She never recovered. She refused to use magic, but she couldn’t escape it. It turned inward, driving her mad... When she couldn’t control it, the magic would erupt from her."

"Like Credence?" Newt asked softly. He didn’t know the Dumbledores’ story, but he was familiar with Credence’s.

Credence Barebone, Mary Lou Barebone’s adopted son, was actually Aberforth’s son, Aurelius Dumbledore.

As he spoke, Newt wondered if Obscurials ran in the family.

Credence was an Obscurial. So was his aunt, Ariana...

"Yes, just like him..." Aberforth covered his face, breathing heavily.

"He’s...?" Veratia looked at Newt, curious.

Newt explained, "He’s an Obscurial, and Aberforth’s son. An Obscurial is a young wizard who, due to severe trauma related to their magic, suppresses their power out of self-preservation. Without guidance, they fail to control it, and it manifests as a parasitic force—a dark, unstable magic called an Obscurus."

"It’s powerful but wildly unpredictable, moving swiftly, detaching from its host to attack others," Newt added, glancing at Gellert. "Your brother once tried to control Credence to harness that dark power, even deceiving him..."

Veratia said nothing, but an invisible hand delivered a sharp smack to the back of Gellert’s head.

"Sister!" Gellert protested indignantly.

Veratia ignored him, casually glancing at Fawkes, who was preening its feathers, perhaps grooming itself for a treat.

Fawkes let out a clear chirp and fluttered to Veratia’s side, seemingly trying to win over his "mother-in-law."

After all, Fiona was, in a sense, Veratia’s daughter.

Aberforth, seeing Gellert get smacked, let a smirk of schadenfreude cross his face.

He went on, "Ariana... she wasn’t to blame for what she became. She could be strange, even dangerous at times, but mostly she was sweet, timid, harmless."

"My father went after those bastards," Aberforth said, his eyes glinting with unshed tears. "He was furious, gave those Muggles a thrashing, and ended up in Azkaban for it. He never told them why—because if the Ministry knew about Ariana’s condition, they’d have locked her in St. Mungo’s for life."

"They’d have seen her as a severe threat to the International Statute of Secrecy. Her magic would burst out uncontrollably when she lost herself."

Veratia reached for Harry’s hand again.

"That’s how the Ministry is," she said softly.

Newt nodded, muttering, "Yes, and it’s still the same—utterly incompetent."

Aberforth rubbed his face, trying to steady himself. "We had to keep her safe, keep her hidden. So we moved, claimed she was ill. My mother took care of her, tried to keep her calm and happy."

"She loved me best, not Albus," Aberforth said, his voice softening with fond memories. "Albus was always upstairs in his room, reading his books, counting his awards, corresponding with ’the greatest magical minds of the time,’" he scoffed. "You know, Albus didn’t want to bother with her. But Ariana loved me... When Mother couldn’t get her to eat, I could coax her. When she had an episode, I could calm her. When she was quiet, she’d help me feed the goats."

"Goat boy..." Gellert muttered under his breath, barely audible, clearly unimpressed by Aberforth’s pastoral hobbies.

"Then, when she was fourteen..." Aberforth’s eyes shimmered with tears. "I wasn’t there. I was at Hogwarts, couldn’t get back in time. If I’d been there, I could’ve calmed her."

"Her condition was dire—she couldn’t suppress the Obscurus anymore. It was worse than Credence’s ever was," Aberforth said with a heavy sigh. "You know—Newt, you’d know what Credence is like when he’s angry. No one could stop him..."

"Because you’re incompetent, goat boy," Gellert interjected mercilessly. "I could easily subdue your Obscurial son..."

Aberforth didn’t respond verbally, but a Cruciatus Curse shot from his wand.

Fortunately, Gellert was prepared for the consequences of his sharp tongue. A swirl of blue flames devoured the curse before it could land.

"So, my mother died," Aberforth said, glaring at Dumbledore. "Accidentally killed by Ariana. If Albus had stayed to help Mother care for her, she’d still be alive. But no, he was too busy planning to travel the world with Doge—Elphias Doge."

"But because of Mother’s death, he had to abandon those plans."

Gellert looked up.

Elphias Doge?

Albus had a friend like that? Someone he planned to travel the world with?

Dumbledore’s face betrayed a flicker of guilt.

In truth, Aberforth’s words rang true. If he’d set aside his grand ambitions to care for his family, their mother might still be alive.

Aberforth shot a mocking glance at Dumbledore. "I told Albus I’d stay home, look after Ariana. I didn’t care about school—I could teach myself."

"But he insisted I finish my education, said he’d take over from Mother. A bit of a letdown for the great Albus, caring for a half-mad sister, stopping her from blowing up the house every other day. No one was handing out awards for that. Still, he managed for a few weeks... until he showed up."

Aberforth’s smile turned icy as he pointed at Gellert, who lounged nonchalantly in his chair.

"Grindelwald. That summer in Godric’s Hollow, Grindelwald came to our home... and finally, Albus had someone to talk to, someone as clever and talented as he was."

"And because of him, caring for Ariana became unimportant. To him, she was just a burden."

"They spent all their time plotting a new wizarding order, chasing the Deathly Hallows, pursuing their grand obsessions... What did it matter if a little girl was neglected? For the greater good of the wizarding world, right? The great Albus was working for a greater purpose!"

"I’m sorry, Aberforth," Dumbledore sighed. "It was my fault, I admit."

Aberforth’s words cut like a knife, laying his heart bare and raw.

But Aberforth wasn’t ready to accept the apology. He pressed on, "A few weeks later, I’d had enough. I was about to return to Hogwarts, so I told them—both of them, face-to-face, just like this." His eyes blazed at Dumbledore and Gellert. "I told Albus, if he wanted to care for Ariana, he’d better abandon his ridiculous plans now."

"I called him a hypocrite, selfish," Aberforth said, glaring at Dumbledore. "He promised to look after Ariana, told me to focus on my studies. But at the same time, he was planning to leave, to abandon Ariana, who’d come to rely on him. He saw us both as burdens—just like his dear friend Grindelwald saw us as nothing but ordinary."

"I never thought that, Aberforth," Dumbledore sighed.

"Didn’t you?" Aberforth asked coldly. "If you didn’t, why were you so obsessed with chasing the Deathly Hallows alongside Grindelwald, dreaming of mastering Death itself, of wielding ultimate power?"

"I only wanted a world where wizards could live openly," Dumbledore said softly. "A world where other wizard children wouldn’t suffer like Ariana did."

"You don’t understand," Gellert interjected. "Listen, goat boy, you and your sister held Albus back. Someone of his brilliance shouldn’t be stuck in Godric’s Hollow—he should be fighting for the wizarding world!"

"Go to hell!" Aberforth snapped, drawing his wand again. "If you had any shred of decency, you wouldn’t be here at Hogwarts. Who’re you planning to manipulate this time? The students? Come on, I won’t let you succeed!"

"That’s when it happened—Aberforth and Gellert got into it," Dumbledore said. "Just like now. Their argument grew heated, Gellert’s words struck a nerve, and he cast the Cruciatus Curse first. I couldn’t stand by and watch my brother and my best friend fight, so I joined the duel... and Ariana died."

"Because of you two," Aberforth said, his voice trembling with rage as he glared at Dumbledore. "If that bastard Grindelwald hadn’t come to Godric’s Hollow, none of this would’ve happened. But you can’t pin it all on him, can you, Albus? Don’t you think you bear some responsibility for Ariana’s death?"

"Admit it, Albus. There’s no shame in it," Aberforth pressed. "In your eyes, the greater good was more important than your sister, wasn’t it? Your little sister was expendable, but the greater good, the good of the many—everyone’s disposable for that, right? Including her."

"After that, Grindelwald fled. He had a record in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, after all... And you, Albus, you must’ve felt free, didn’t you? No more burden holding you back. You could become the greatest wizard—President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First Class. But..."

"Who loves you, Albus?"

Aberforth slumped into his chair, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Poor little Ariana... gone forever..."

The headmaster’s office fell silent.

"Aberforth," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with regret.

"From that moment, my heart has been in constant torment," he said softly. "Every minute, I regret not noticing Ariana’s condition sooner."

"Regret?" Aberforth snapped. "Does regret bring Ariana back? You’re still the same, Albus—always thinking of yourself. Now that I know Grindelwald’s at Hogwarts, I won’t let a dark wizard wreak havoc here! Albus, if you insist on keeping him, I’ll go to the Ministry—or the Wizengamot!"

"Hey, I don’t even want to be at Hogwarts," Gellert said lazily. "If it weren’t for my sister’s insistence with Albus, I’d probably be in Nurmengard, watching the snow. Not that snow’s bad, mind you—being an assistant teacher just gives me a bit more... freedom."

"Your sister’s insistence?" Aberforth scoffed, turning to Veratia. "Is that true, Miss Grindelwald? Honestly, I’m not inclined to trust a Grindelwald, even if you’re friends with that Harry Potter."

"He stole from my vault, Aberforth," Veratia said calmly, unfazed by his words. "He took two million, seven hundred sixty-three thousand, two hundred fifteen Galleons I’d saved over the years, along with alchemical materials and clothes I bought for Harry... like that starry-moonlit robe."

Dumbledore’s eye twitched noticeably, though he masked it well, staring intently at his teacup.

What a fine cup...

"You filthy beast!" Aberforth slammed the table, his fury reignited as he rounded on Gellert. "What have you done?! Stealing your sister’s hard-earned savings? You’re despicable!"

He paused, as if something else had occurred to him.

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