Tristia [Aurelius Dumbledore/Credence Barebone]

IV. Praeteria: winter of 1899

The dim winter night has enveloped the village and accepted the rows of irregular houses into its arms. There was still a little light left when they were departing from the house, but now Aberforth felt the shadows sticking to his skin and clogging his sight. The forest was even darker, with eerie branches of the trees shielding off the moonlight. He was trying to make his way forward in the soft pink dress he had borrowed from his sister a few hours ago, but the fine fabric and rebellious laces kept creeping up on him from nowhere, restricting his movement like a strait-jacket. The thorny bushes, falling in love with this ogre maiden, kept stretching their fingers toward him like insistent suitors unable to let this rare sight leave their grasp. Aberforth cursed and looked up from the snowy ground.

Ariana was moving effortlessly through the forest in front of him, light steps carefully dancing amongst the broken figs and pieces of barks peeled off the trees like diseased skin. She kept stopping regularly to turn to face him with a mischievous smile, then she laughed in high-pitched voice and continued her forest ball. It was as if she was a lantern in this place of deep and crying shadows, her hair attracting and absorbing the faint remnants of moonlight that had been able to dodge the arms of the wooden guardians. There was a small ball of white fur by her legs, following her every whirl, jumping up and down in goat excitement.

Aberforth was fighting his way through, putting aside every bit of a womanly grace as he repeatedly cursed and hissed at the forces of nature. When he finally lifted the hem of his dress above the knees in shocking and unwomanly fashion to make several freed steps forward, he froze. Ariana was not in front of him anymore. He could still hear her laugh, however faintly, but she was nowhere to be seen. He hastened his steps, heart racing in his throat, prepared to burst into a splash of fear. He felt the violence the thorns had done to the back of his hands as he tried to push them away, leaving his fingers marked with dark red stains.

Suddenly the forest ended, spiting him out into one of the streets. He looked around in a sheer panic, one hand lifting the dress, the other holding the hat in its rightful place. Luckily, there was no sign of the march. Unfortunately, no sign of Ariana either. Aberforth bit his lip and leaped into the neighboring street, trying his luck. A woman silhouette was walking in the direction away from him. He lit up with hope only to sink back into despair when he realized the figure was wearing a dark purple dress, a color that remotely reminded him of an eggplant, and walked too slowly and too stiffly to be his sister. Aberforth had decided to take his chance anyway, caught up with her steps, and grasped the woman's shoulder rather too aggressively.

The figure turned to face him, capturing him in her eyes in an instant. Black was seeping through the pupils, spilling into her irises and mercilessly penetrating his heart. He was stricken by the two black holes, pulling him into the void of the alluring night absent of any stars, making him feel like he was standing in the graveyard of the sun and light, utterly trapped. The girl blinked. He took a deep breath and pulled himself away a couple of steps. She was not pretty. True, he was not one to be enchanted by beauty easily, nor he was, in fact, interested in the ephemeral nature of beautiful things, but he still thought himself to be able to tell apart the beautiful and the ordinary. He considered her face to be uncommonly wide and her cheekbones were forgetting their place, unnaturally unfolding across the face. Her lips tightened as she glared at him sternly from under the hat.

He was staring at her in his woman dress and bruised by the inhabitants of the forest. He could feel the hat slowly slipping down from the messy curls while the lifted hem of the dress revealed the crooked legs to the decent eyes before him. His husky voice skipped out several times when asking: "Have you seen a girl here? About this big. Blonde hair, light blue dress, and white coat. And she has a little goat with her."

"This is horrifying," she exhaled and Aberforth realized she was not a woman yet, just a maiden, although oddly sophisticated and mature for her age. He suddenly felt like explaining himself to a schoolteacher after being scolded.

"I am showing my sister the decorations in the village tonight," he responded, breathless and impatient. He felt like an angry bear in a dress. Or goat.

"You do not seem to strain yourself by adding convincing details," she scoffed.

"Truth is always simple."

"That is not a very popular opinion, is it?"

Aberforth did not have time for this. "Have you seen her?"

"I saw someone walk by the church when I was walking from the Church Lane. I cannot guarantee it was her."

"I see. Thanks," said the boy vigorously, patted her awkwardly on her back in a boyish gesture of an inexperienced gentleman and set out for the church. Halfway there, he swung back. "What is your name?"

"That would not be much of fair trade, would it? I suppose you will not tell me yours."

He shook his head and rushed off.

Ariana was standing by the church gate, small and innocent, fragile shoulders in the embrace of the white coat decorated with fur. The goat was sitting next to her, chewing either snow or just chewing from the habit of it. Aberforth approached her silently for fear of frightening her with his usual heavy steps. He felt as if nearing a rare animal, looking out for her face. Ariana's chin was up, eyes resembling bright gems focused on the monumental building glittering under the veil of snow. The church seemed pure under the shade of white, pale flowers and lit candles placed all around the base. She was breathing softly in astonishment, not saying anything. Aberforth decided to keep quiet as well. After a moment, his brute body leaned toward one of the flower bouquets, picking the blooming flower. He held it in his rough and soiled hands for a moment before sliding it behind one of the girl's coat's buttons.

The sounds of the returning march emerged from the silence behind them. Aberforth took Ariana's slim hand into his. "It is time for us to go," he whispered to her sadly. She nodded obediently and let herself be gently pulled away. Her gaze, however, lingered on the church until the very moment they arrived on the street's edge. Aberforth was walking as slow as he saw physically possible, letting Ariana soak in the last moment of the peaceful scene. He looked behind them one last time, catching a glimpse of the dark figure standing there still, in sharp contrast against the snow. He could feel those black eyes watching him like a pray.