Ariana: A Harry Potter FanFiction

Prologue

Mould-on-the-Wold, England, 1891

 

            A single, winding dirt road led through a small village. Tiny cottages lined the road, each utterly similar to the next. Every lawn was a vibrant green, every house the same, dull off-white hue. Birds sang pleasantly, nesting in the trees surrounding the homes. Women tended to their small gardens, greeting each other through the hedges around their backyards.

            Beautiful flowers bloomed on the side of the road in a rainbow of colors. A light breeze blew a sweet scent throughout the village, and the air filled with the distant sound of a child’s laughter.

            A young girl raced along the bend in the road, her face lit by a wide smile. Her bright blue eyes twinkled with excitement, and her blonde curls bounced on her shoulders. She wore a blue dress, the skirt ending just below her knees, and little brown boots. Giggling hysterically, she looked over her shoulder without stopping and shouted, “Come on, Aberforth! Come on!”

            The next to come around the bend was a thin boy, around the same age as the girl. He had her same eyes and messy auburn hair that stuck up as if he’d just gotten out of bed. His white shirt and knickers were smeared with dirt. Grinning, he shouted, “Ariana, we must wait for Father!”

            “Father must catch up with us!” she returned, glancing over her shoulder and stumbling slightly. She laughed at herself and sped up.

            She could hear her father’s deep laughter behind her, and felt his arms wrap around her. Her feet left the ground as he lifted her into the air, spinning her around. Cradling her, he looked down at Ariana with the twinkling blue eyes he gave her. “Did you actually think you could win a race against me, darling?”

            “Father!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his whiskery cheek.

            Aberforth stopped at his side, staring up at Ariana happily. “He caught up.”

            “That I did,” he said, grinning at his children. His auburn hair and beard was graying with age, yet he remained youthful and pleasant. “Now, how about we get home to your mother?”

            “Mother was in the garden last we saw her!” Aberforth said, rushing ahead of them. “She was picking ginger roots!”

            “Was she?”

            “She was!” Ariana replied, her voice squeaking. “And peppermint!”

            “Ooh, yummy,” their father said, “I do love good peppermint.”

            “And Mum plants the best!” Aberforth said, racing towards their house. It was exactly the same as the other houses; quaint and pleasant, with a small garden at the side. Kendra Dumbledore crouched over her plants, a basket full of ginger roots and peppermint leaves on the ground beside her.

            As Aberforth approached her, she turned and smiled. “You finally return. I was beginning to wonder if you’d lost your way in the wood.”

            “With my impeccable sense of direction?” asked her husband, “Never!” He let his daughter down and walked to his wife, giving her a quick kiss.

            The eldest of the Dumbledore children sat on the doorstep, a book in his hands. He wore gray trousers and suspenders and a white shirt, and he resembled his father and brother, with a full head of auburn hair and twinkling blue eyes.