[ORIGINALLY TITLED 'THE RETURN OF ARIANA DUMBLEDORE']
ARIANA DUMBLEDORE DIDN'T EXPECT TO COME BACK.
But on the 31st of October, 1974, she woke up in Godric's Hollow--with four words repeating itself in her brain:
"You have seven years."
She had to c...
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter World belongs to J.K. Rowling.
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"GOOD EVENING, STUDENTS," ALBUS DUMBLEDORE said, his voice echoing around the hall in a way that conveyed power, even to Ariana.
Her brother was oldnow, and she couldn't quite tear her gaze from his greyed beard and hair, and his completely different attire.
He used to hate wearing long, drapey robes, but look at him now, standing in front of hundreds of students in exactly that.
Ariana couldn't believe it, really.
"Today, we're welcoming a new student to our school..."
She didn't register the rest of Albus' speech, too drawn in taking everything in. The changes in Albus' voice—it was deeper, stronger, less arrogant...it seemed that Albus hadchanged, as unbelievable as it seemed to Ariana, who had been kind of mean to her when they were younger.
She remembered some short snippets of her past, and although they were confusing, since there were no conjunctions to form coherent memories, but she appreciated that she wasn't completely clueless.
"ArianaLancaster,"
Straightening, Professor McGonagall shot her a pointed glance, gesturing to the entrance into the Great Hall, signalling for Ariana to finally enter.
Straightening her robes, she sucked in a deep breath and entered the hall, feeling the thousands of eyes prickling against her skin, which she ignored.
She heard some whispering—but she disregarded it, knowing that it wouldn't be anything that'd help her.
When she arrived at the front of the hall, stepping up onto the stage, she finally glanced up at her oldest older brother, her lips pressed together tightly, her eyes wide and determined; strong, something she used to never see herself as.
She wouldn't let anybody see the broken form she once was.
She'd been dead and back, she'd figured that much out—and she most definitely wasn't the same person anymore.
Not the same little girl.
"Professor," She said daringly, even as she watched the colour drain from Albus' face as he took in her features—no doubt a face that was all too familiar too him.
Ariana found herself wondering if it was horrifying, for him. To see his dead sister—it wasn't horrifying for her to see him. Not to her, because she didn't witness her own death, didn't have to kneel over her unmoving body after she had been hit.
Albus had had to, and she wondered if this was bringing back some terrifying memories—as their identical blue eyes met and she seemed to see through all the panic running through his mind, even though to the other students in the hall, it would appear like their Headmaster was the definition of constant serenity.
Oh, Albus was notseren, Ariana knew. If there wasn't a thunderstorm going on on the outside, there was one forming inside his mind, and she suspected that was what was happening right now.
"Miss Lancaster," Albus responded, his voice smooth and completely steady, and Ariana noted how well-trained he was in hiding his emotions. He'd added, after a half-second that nobody but Ariana would have noticed, "Take a seat on the stool."
"Thank you," She said steadily as she made her way to the wooden stool that she knew thousands of students had sat upon before her.
She received a brief view over the Hall—at the impatient eyes staring at her, all eager for this to finish and for dinner to begin—before a hat was placed on her head and her vision was obscured.
"My, what a surprise this is,"
Ariana didn't speak, taking in every word the hat said. She didn't know what the hat was, but she knew that this was the Sorting.
She did find herself absently picking at the wood of the stool, though, as the voice continued, "I didn't think I'd ever sort a Dumbledore ever again, after Aberforth."
"You thought wrong, then," Ariana whispered to the hat, her voice as low as she could manage, unsure if the hat could hear her thoughts or if she'd have to talk to it.
"You're different to your brothers, though, aren't you? Your magic is so impossibly wild—that was what they called you when you were small, was it?"
She kept her lips sealed shut.
"My, what anger you hide from yourself. This anger is dangerous, you know? If you ever untie it, it will consume you—and destroy everyone and everything you love."
"Good thing I have no one and nothing to love, then," Ariana said, shaking her head, ready to tear the hat off of her head if it continued to talk about things she didn't need distracting her.
"Are you so sure about that, Miss Dumbledore? There are so many things you don't remember...there was a time when you lost control, did you know? You let your anger free, and it betrayed you—you killed your mother and hurt everyone else who was around you when she just wanted to protect you—,"
Images started to flood her mind—which she'd tried to keep as clear as possible, but now it was impossible—she remembered being so angry, but then losing control and hurting people she never wanted to hurt. She'd never wanted to hurt anyone, but the images flashed through her thoughts...a loud crash, a bright light that she didn't see the colour of before it blinded her, and a scream so loud and full of pain that she felt her very bones shake.
With a horrified, terrible, angry scream she tore the hat off of her head just as it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"
The word meant nothing to her at the time as she panted, trying desperately to catch her breath as she watched the hat land limply on the floor far from the stool, and a professor rush from the table to collect it.
The Great Hall was completely silent as Ariana watched her tie and crest change to represent her House, Slytherin—and she headed down the stage to join the table with students wearing the same House Colours of silver and emerald green.
She was certain her memories were back, now. All of them—about her childhood and how much pain she had caused her family, how she'd done so many terrible things because she had been too weak to control her magic properly.
She had been too weak to hold in her anger and it had caused her to hurt so many people.
Ariana Dumbledore was not going to let any of this get in the way of her mission.
She took a deep breath as she sat down on a free section of the bench, scanning the hall, allowing her gaze to pass through the hundreds of students, most of which were whispering and sneaking glances at her as Professor Dumbledore began the feast.
She was not going to let anything get in the way of accomplishing her mission; saving the Marauders and saving the world from whatever catastrophe that lingered ahead of them.
But then her eyes caught those of a shaggy-haired, grey-eyed boy sitting amongst a river of scarlet and gold, and she quickly averted her gaze back to the plate in front of her.
