HP North Star's Radiance

Never mind, I couldn't take good care of Ariana last time, I can't do it this time... Aberforth stood among the guardians of Hogwarts, watching in a daze as his brother fell, like a bird struck by an arrow, gracefully plummeting to the ground.

Everyone was crying…everyone, but Aberforth didn’t. He thought he would never hate Albus again—but he never did, he hated Albus to death.

Throughout his life, Aberforth was constantly losing people: first his father, then his mother, then Anna… but these were all accidents. Only Aberforth, only he, chose to die.

Hermione and Ron came over to comfort Aberforth, but he just scoffed, "Who's going to feel sorry for that shameless bastard?"

"That's your brother!" Ron was extremely surprised and didn't understand why. If it had been his brother who was in trouble, he would have been heartbroken.

"Just because he's Albus!" Aberforth roared, veins throbbing on his forehead. "He did it again! For that damned 'greater good'! For more people! Doesn't he have a heart?!"

"He kept it from me... He's been scheming all along, and I was part of his plan! I hate him so much! How could he! How could he just leave me here in this world where I have nothing!"

Why? Why did you have to wait until I forgave you before abandoning me again? If I hadn't forgiven you, I wouldn't be so...so heartbroken...

Aberforth unleashed his fury on the later chaotic battle with the Death Eaters, wishing he could twist off the heads of those dark wizards and use them as footballs.

……

Voldemort is dead. It's all over.

Aberforth sat down on the ground next to Theseus, who nuzzled the little dragon's head, employing encouragement: "Great job, great job, our Busu did a great job today!"

Busu looked dejected and nudged Abufus with his head.

"Kid, you've mistaken me for someone else," Aberforth said gruffly. "Not all white beards are the same!"

"I didn't mistake him." Theseus sighed. "He smelled your similar scent to Dumbledore and was trying to comfort you."

Aberforth rolled his eyes: "That's why he's a kid—he doesn't understand anything."

Just then, Harry walked over from a distance.

"You're going to comfort me too?" Aberforth was utterly baffled. "You're sitting at the same table as that kid, Long!"

"Dumbledore is still alive," Harry said.

Albus was still alive, but it would have been better if he were dead. He looked at his radiant brother lying in St. Mungo's like a forgotten statue, more horrible than a tombstone.

Aberforth hated it even more.

He hated Albus's half-dead state, which reminded him of his sister's helplessness during her illness. He hated this hopeless hope, which prevented him from mourning or finding peace. He hated that he still cared; if he didn't care, he wouldn't be in pain.

He hated that Albus was dead, but he hated even more that Albus was still alive.

He damnedly hated that damned Albus!

The door to Pig Head Bar was pushed open.

Aberforth turned around from behind the bar, ready to shoo away customers with his usual rudeness, but met a pair of familiar blue eyes.

Albus Dumbledore, his brother, stood at the entrance of his pub, not wearing any of those glittering, fancy robes, but only an ill-fitting travel cloak. He looked old and frail, but he stood there undeniably before him.

A long, suffocating silence.

Albus glanced down at his clothes and said with a smile, "I was in such a rush, I borrowed them from Sirius."

After having his first meal after waking up at Harry's house, he rushed to the Hog's Head.

Aberforth sneered through gritted teeth, "So rushed, are you in a hurry to get to..."

His voice trembled, and he swallowed the word "death" that he hadn't said. He had never chosen a day or considered omens when cursing people his whole life, but now he didn't dare to say "death."

"I was eager to tell you I was back," Albus said.

Abu Fusi truly hates Abu Si!

It's so easy to stop hating him.

He abruptly turned his back, his body stiffening, and roughly scrubbed the counter with a rag, shouting fiercely, "What are you standing there for! Wait for me to invite you in!"

Harry and Prarese stood on the street, and he was truly happy for Dumbledore: "He's inside!"

“It would be strange if we couldn’t get in,” Praris said calmly.

Harry was confused: "But Ron said that after Dumbledore fell, Aberforth wasn't sad at all, and even scolded him."

“Not everyone expresses sadness by shedding tears,” Prarese said with a knowing tone. “When someone is in so much pain from love, they can only believe it to be hate.”

Harry recalled Rita Skeeter's recounting of Dumbledore's past and seemed to understand something.

In the end, two Dumbledores emerged from the Hog's Head—Albus and Aberforth. Aberforth temporarily closed the pub, and his expression was unusually less grim.

Albus, along with his brother, Harry, and Prader, embarks on a journey to Godric's Hollow. It was his former home, and Harry's former home as well.

"Why did you bring me along?" Praris asked with a look of disgust.

Albus winked playfully: "Doctor, aren't you going to stop the patients from running around everywhere?"

Prarese said, "If you keep talking nonsense, the doctor will send you back to St. Mungo's to lie down."

Albus smiled calmly and said, "The future belongs to you, doesn't it?"

This war showed Dumbledore that Slytherin was not ununitable. At least several Slytherins remained at the time of the final battle, and Prasris was the unsung leader of the younger generation of Slytherins.

“Horace is retiring,” Albus said gently. “The future of Slytherin holds many possibilities. What do you think?”

After Dumbledore awoke, Prarese was already hailed by the Daily Prophet as the youngest Potions Master, qualified enough to be exceptionally admitted as a Potions Professor, and even becoming a Headmaster wouldn't be out of the question.

"Give up," Praris said calmly.

“The school infirmary has two healers now,” Albus said, anticipating her rejection. “At St. Mungo’s you would be overseen by the Potions of the Frontier, but not at Hogwarts.”

Prareus raised an eyebrow and looked at Dumbledore.

“You now have enough influence to do so,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “A Potions Master, a member of Wizengamor, and with a wide network of allies, you can influence the outcome of trials and the decisions of the Ministry of Magic.”

Indeed, Praris can influence the Ministry of Magic, Wizengamot, and the Daily Prophet if she needs to, which is why she is confident she can help Harry in his time of need.

"But is that enough?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Influencing allies means you'll always have to make deals, compromises, and pay the price. But back at Hogwarts, you'll be the future Head of the House... Your influence in Slytherin won't change once this batch of officials is replaced."

Slytherin children are usually still Slytherins. As long as there are descendants, Slytherins will still need Headmaster Slytherin.

"We'll see," Praris said indifferently.

Dumbledore added, "Your role as Severus's assistant is quite good. I'm thinking of suggesting to Minerva that we select teaching assistants for the deans from among the upperclassmen, what do you think?"

“You have really recovered quite a bit,” Praris said. “It is truly my fault.”

Dumbledore 4 (Side Story)

Dumbledore neither confirmed nor denied Prasris's words, and went on to promise and fulfill many things he had not paid for before: a portion of the Flamel couple's alchemy notes, some of Prasris's specific requests at Hogwarts (to be fulfilled by Professor McGonagall), attending Prasris and Draco's future wedding as a gesture of goodwill, and Draco becoming the professor of alchemy as a bonus... and so on.

Anyway, the original alchemy professor was still more than a decade away from retirement, and the course was often closed due to insufficient enrollment. By the time Draco became the professor, it was uncertain when that would be—Dumbledore habitually made empty promises.

"Are you two done talking?!" Aberforth shouted irritably. "If you have business to do, go back to London and talk!"

Praris smiled with satisfaction: "It's almost there."

Aberforth began to doubt how he could have thought this witch was so pitiful and obedient; he must have been blind.

They Apparated to the outside of Godric's Hollow, and Dumbledore pointed to a tree not far away: "I rose from the graveyard and rested here—but someone wouldn't let me rest."

Someone sneered, "You're free to stay. Do I have the right to stop you?"

She said sarcastically, "Harry, there was a kind man who used to suffer from night blindness. He would sneak into the village in the dark in the middle of the night to dig up graves, but some people complained that the kind man wouldn't let him rest."

Harry looked this way and then that way, feeling caught in the middle. He looked troubled, but he was actually quite happy—this time Dumbledore had taken the initiative to tell him what had happened to him.

"Are some people leaving or not?!" Aberforth glared, "They're dragging their feet and talking more nonsense than Professor Binns."

They entered the village, and Albus pointed out to Harry the shops they used to frequent as children ("It's amazing that the famous Albus Dumbledore still remembers!"), an old wizard who seemed quite concerned about Albus ("Yes, you're the most popular, unlike me, who's disliked!"), Bathilda Bagshot's house (Harry said, "I was attacked here." Aberforth sarcastically replied, "Or rather, someone's house!"), the Potters' gravestones, and the ruins of their former home...

At least half of the group were taking turns mocking Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was shameless enough... Aberforth gradually found Prader much more agreeable.

Harry stood before the ruins of the Potters' house and said softly, "I should have come here with Sirius and the others."

“You have plenty of time to do this,” Prarese said, just as she had finally taken Severus to Southend-on-the-Sea.

Finally, there are the Dumbledore families.

Seeing the scene before him, Albus stopped in his tracks: "I thought this place..."

“What do you think?” Aberforth glanced to the other side and said with a hint of resentment, “You’re too self-righteous.”

This house, which should have been uninhabited for a long time, looked no different from the other houses around it, and was even cleaner than the Pighead Bar, with little dust in sight.

Albus was too ashamed to return, but Aberforth's heart never truly left their home. He cared for it diligently, just as he cared for Ariana's portrait day after day.

This was the Dumbledore family home, and it wasn't appropriate for a guest to open the door, but Aberforth showed no intention of opening it. He stood to the side with his arms crossed, watching as if waiting for something.

Albus stood before the door, gazing at it for a long time. He understood what lay behind it—his mother, his sister, the version of himself that had made a mistake, his regret, and his ambitions and youth that had been abruptly cut short.

Finally, he ended nearly a century of escape and wandering, reached out and pushed open the door, facing the pain and crimes of the past with an ordinary body that had almost no strength.

The moment he pushed open the door, Albus Dumbledore truly turned nineteen. Aberforth silently forgave his brother completely, and Albus finally allowed himself to forgive.

As he once told himself, this was not punishment, but a gift from fate—a pair of fluffy wool socks.

They stayed in Godric Valley for a week.

Harry ran around the village all day long, and the other wizards and villagers were happy to see him, telling him what a clever and lively young witch his mother, Lily, was.

“I thought my mom was very gentle!” Harry shared his experience in surprise. “But the lady told me that someone was making fun of her because of her acne, so my mom made that person get acne too, so he could experience what it’s like to be mocked for having acne.”

Praris asked, "You want to learn? I will."

"Is that the point?" Harry said.

“You have too many illusions about your mother,” Praris said. “Do you think someone who dared to stand in front of Voldemort to protect you is weak? Your mother is at most gentle to you.”

Harry suddenly realized: "You're right—I also found out about your mother. That lady said your mother skipped class because she divined that the day would be unlucky. Then, she was summoned by Professor McGonagall."

“I suppose the divination was inaccurate?” Harry said vividly. “That lady said, not really… didn’t your mother get scolded by Professor McGonagall the other day?”

Praris couldn't hold back his laughter this time: "What's so funny?"

Harry said he would write down all these interesting things and tell Ginny about them one by one when he got back.

"Did you go out and talk to Ginny?" Praris asked.

Harry scribbled away, saying without looking up, "Ginny supports me; she wants me to rest a bit longer."

Unlike Harry, Prader stayed at Dumbledore's house, reading through Albus's old notes and books, and occasionally asking the old man questions.

Meanwhile, the Dumbledore brothers sat together, chatting about random things, creating a rare harmonious atmosphere.