Chapter 600 - Potter’s Cottage Ⅱ

Finally, down a few small roads on the edge of town is a two-story cottage with a small gate, tall hedges, and more importantly hidden from muggles, and those alike. Stopping at the gate, Albus feels the powerful warding in place, before carefully opening the gate and allowing himself inside.

Albus trudges up the path and knocks on the door. The door is quickly opened to reveal a much shorter aged wizard with wispy unruly hair, hazel eyes, and knobby knees, Fleamont Potter. (The utter irony is that Albus Dumbledore older than Fleamont Potter, but still looks younger).

"Welcome, Professor. Please step inside," Fleamont politely replied with a guarded expression. He had received a letter during the summer from the Headmaster requesting his aid in securing a protected property against both wizards and muggles alike. And after much thought and contemplation, he had finally relented upon seeing the actions of the Auror's during the summer. A game must be afoot, and the Headmaster was a player.

"Thank you, Potter," Albus Dumbledore said, before stepping inside and entering the recently cleaned cottage. The cottage was sparsely furnished, but it was clean and had plenty of space for all intent and purposes. But more importantly, it was secluded and would be the perfect place to use as the new Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

"This will do rather nicely, Potter," Dumbledore said as Fleamont shut the door behind them. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing except returning the property to the Potter family after it ceases to be of use," Fleamont truthfully answered. He did not wish for the Professor to be in his debt and nor did he wish to be any further involved beyond that.

"That shall not be an issue," Dumbledore earnestly replied as he studied the house and nodded in approval. It would be easy to defend if necessary, and more importantly there plenty of vantages of view to spot any intruders should the wards and Fidelus oath be broken.

Fleamont takes out a golden key and property deed from his inner robes. "The key and deed, Professor, I am certain that you will know what to do with it," Fleamont firmly replied as Dumbledore carefully accepted the two items.

"Thank you, Fleamont, you have made my life a great deal easier and have made a great contribution that cannot easily be repaid," Dumbledore said as he pocketed the two items. "Though I must confess Fleamont, I am puzzled as to just what changed your mind? I feared that you had declined my offer considering the many months without a reply."

Fleamont eyes flicker to the side as he recalls the letter from Reginald Prince. The two of them had always disliked each other but each bore a trickle of grudging respect towards each other. And for Reginald to put aside his pride and request that he be his grandchildren's godfather showed the love and the lengths that Prince would go to protect his family. And he could do no less for his own family.

"An old rival changed my mind," Fleamont finally confessed. "And I could do no less." Albus Dumbledore seems puzzled by the response but does not further pry.

"It is late, Professor, and I must depart now, Euphemia is waiting for me at home," Fleamont replied as he adjusted his cloak and robes about him.

"It is indeed getting late," Albus confessed. "Safe journey, Mr. Potter."

"And to you as well, Professor," Fleamont added, before departing out of the cottage. He made his way past the property boundaries, before apparating at last home, where a cup of piping hot tea and scones awaited him.

Albus briefly peers around the property, before locking the door firmly with the golden key, and departing. Past the secure wards of the former Potter Cottage, Albus apparated to the edge of Hogsmeade. A brisk chilly breeze is felt on his face announcing the fact that the chill of autumn had finally arrived.

Fingering the golden key and deed in his pocket, Albus hesitates for a moment, before making his way to the Hogs Head Inn. The Hogs Head Inn is full of rowdy laughter and loud voices as he made his way around the back. The spotted goat by the name of Butter lets out a loud neigh and squeezes its head out between the wooden pen bars. (Butter, the goat liked to eat freshly churned butter to the great irritation of Aberforth, and hence gained its name.)

A chuckle escapes from Albus as he gently scratches Butter behind the ears and on the chin. Before Albus has even finished the wooden door is slammed open to reveal the owner of the Hogs Head Inn, Aberforth Dumbledore. With neatly trimmed gray hair and beard, Aberforth glares at his older brother with vivid blue colored eyes hidden behind spectacles.

"Albus," Aberforth sharply said, "to what do I owe this unexpected honor?"

"A private word, please Aberforth," Albus quietly remarked.

Aberforth furrows his brows and sneers but does not protest. Gruffly he moves aside and says, "Hurry up and come on inside. I've got customers waiting, and I've got a living to keep."

"It won't take long, I promise," Albus replied as Aberforth sneered at this brother's words. Albus had once made such a promise to Aberforth and had all but broken his word. No Aberforth did not put his trust even in a single knut when it came from his older brother, Albus. (And that was somewhat of a lie if one considered the fact that Aberforth was a member of the Order of the Phoenix and had allowed Albus to host said meetings temporarily at the Hogs Head Inn.)

Albus is heading to their usual meeting point when Aberforth roughly grabs him by the elbow and gruffly says, "In there," he gestured with a tilt of his head.

Albus blinks in surprise as Aberforth had never permitted him to enter his personal quarters. Curious, Albus did not protest and entered the room as requested. The parlor is sparsely decorated with an old bookshelf and old furniture. Everything looked cleaned recently, but more importantly Albus gasped at seeing the portrait hanging over the mantelpiece. It the portrait of a girl with chest length golden hair neatly pulled back as her bright blue eyes stared straight ahead and all the while cradling a book in her arms, Ariana, his younger sister.

Aberforth loudly slams the door shut behind him causing Albus to startle out of his gawk and reluctantly tear his gaze away from the portrait. "I thought-," Albus fell quiet, before speaking, "I thought there were no living portraits of Ariana."

Aberforth sneered in reply, "You must have looked terribly hard, Albus."

Albus steps back as if slapped, before melancholically staring at the gaze with something akin to longing. "Does she ever speak to you?" Albus's voice wavered as he stared at the portrait willing it to move and speak to him.

Aberforth glances at the image of his beloved younger sister which causes his expression to soften. "At times," he admitted.

"I see," Albus quietly remarked, before forcefully tearing his gaze away. Giving himself a minute, he finally composes, and says, "I am sorry about the intrusion this evening, Aberforth but I merely wished to inform you that I have found permanent quarters for the Order. I am grateful for all that you have done and especially patiently hosting us. Thank you."

Aberforth curtly nods his head at Albus with his arms folded over his broad chest. "Is that all, Albus?"

"Yes, that is all."

"Good, then you know the way out."

Albus gazes one last time at the portrait as if willing it to speak to him, before departing. Aberforth remains standing there for a moment staring at the portrait, but the portrait does not react or move. It would seem that Ariana was far away lost in distant shores found within her own mind. And only with time would she ever return to them again. (A trait leftover from her the obscurial, and seemingly impossible, but the magical painter had managed to capture it against impossible odds.)