Tristia [Aurelius Dumbledore/Credence Barebone]

I. Praesentes dies

The body hanging around his shoulder grew heavier every hour. When they finally arrived at the place he nearly considered his home, he was carrying what he believed was the kid's full weight. The middle-aged wizard had wished to travel back to the Hogsmeade directly, but moving across long distances was straining even for a healthy individual like himself, and he was not willing to take any risks. The distance was, of course, too great to abandon the apparition completely, but once in England, he tried to take the trains whenever possible.

After the second apparition, a sweat had broken on the boy's forehead, and after the third, his eyes had fluttered weakly and closed completely. Luckily, they had already arrived in England at that time, and Abeforth Dumbledore opted for the train ride. He has always enjoyed traveling in the fumes exhausting iron beast himself, but whether the child felt the same, he did not know, for once he had seated him, the weak body slid to the side, panting heavily. Abeforth touched the burning forehead. 

Even if there was a worry weighing him down, no one could tell. The man's face was that of a wall, not a single emotion but grumpiness and irritation coming up to the surface. The scruffy wizard simply took off the steel blue coat and laid it over the exhausted boy, checking his temperature again, before taking off his hat and seating himself on the opposite side, placing the hat in the lap.

The train compartment was empty, its lights penetrating the window and stretching fingers into the darkness outside. The middle-aged man was watching his own reflection carefully, strikingly blue eyes tracing the edges of the picture emerging from the smeary glass. The face watching him back was weary, stern features swallowed by exhaustion. Slowly, the regular thuds of the train rail burdened his eyelids with sleep, his mind drifting away into the fog while listening to the quiet drums of rain mixed with snow falling on the window. 

The train cushion seat was drawing him in, inviting him for a rest, but he never gave way to a sleep, not completely. A feeling of some sort of restlessness urged him on his feet every few minutes just to check the kid's breathing. His heart raced every time the cough scratched its way out of the young man's throat and sunk deep into the hollow pit of fear after every suspiciously quiet moment. Gloom was darkening over them, held off only by the dim light of the train. Aurelius was right opposite him, so close yet so far, curled under the set of coats, face hiding in the soft cushion. Long legs were touching the ground, moving with every bump on the railway. He reminded him of an injured black bird that fell out of his nest, waiting for the fateful last moment to come. Although Aberforth was approaching the situation as matter-factly as he normally would, an uneasiness was enclosing him, pushing on him all the unanswered questions.

At one unfortunate moment, an unfortunate man stepped into the unfortunate compartment. His face held high the self-importance of an official, opening the squeaky doors with the aggressive movement of an inpatient work commuter. Aurelius moved a little as if he wanted to see what was happening, but closing his eyes shut again he changed his mind, face hidden under the strands of sweaty hair sticking to the greenish skin. Aberforth was given an unpleasant fake smile that was trained into perfection first but then got worn out after the years, transforming into a bizarre mask of pretended delight. The wizard indifferently nodded back at the official. 

Unfortunately, the unfortunate man took it as an invitation and made his unfortunate way on the unfortunate train bench next to the unfortunate child. In a different situation, Aberforth might have been amused by the funny man clutching to his dignity at all cost, but now all the events of the past few days started setting in. Aberforth was everything but amused. The unfortunate man launched onto the bench cushion. The older wizard was watching the wide-body dive into the seat, his luggage striking Aurelius with a sharp edge in the process. The kid's eyes flew open in shock, groaning in pain under the stack of coats.

"Youngsters," said the man jokingly, looking at Aurelius. "Folks never know when to stop drinking, ain't right?"

Aberforth, pulled out of the gentle hands of sleepiness by the unpleasant voice, lifted his head and glared right at the man. The wizard's furry eyebrow above the silent eyes tightened, mouth angrily tensed, and the mustache readied for the fight to the death, fuming with rage. He looked as if he was a goat, preparing for the last attack of its meek career, ready to put all its life and rage into the final resistance. He moved to the edge of the bench and leaned forward, not letting the man escape his anger for a single minute. The unfortunate man murmured an unfortunate excuse and stood up, leaving hastily after picking up the shattered dignity, complaining to himself quietly. 

The compartment was empty again and the wizard relaxed. He moved toward Aurelius, lifting his legs onto the unoccupied seat. Aberforth frowned, took off his sweater and folding it in half he raised Aurelius' head as tenderly as he thought himself capable to be. Then he slid the folded sweater under the boy's face in an imitation of pillow. As he was sitting down, he took out the wand, the moving lock of the compartment's door rang through the air and he finally leaned against the cold glass again, warm breath fogging the window and creating a small cloud of condensed water. The regular thuds of the train carried his soul away slowly. To the same place Aurelius was, perhaps.

Once they got out of the warm compartment of the train, the army of soft snowflakes came down at them, seeping into their coats and hair, dissolving a few moments after. Aurelius was now hanging on his shoulder again, and Aberforth doubted he was aware of anything happening around them. The wizard was systematically moving forward, dragging the boy's feet in the snow and creating rail tracks behind them. Meanwhile, the cold breeze kept penetrating the young man's vulnerable lungs, pushing the rest of the warm air out through screechy coughs that usually resulted in momentarily lost balance and a quick stop. Aberforth checked the watch as the tiny hand drew closer to the number two, time racing into the nothingness of the night. Two in the morning. He looked around the village warily. The evening blanket has covered the houses a while ago now, but some of the windows were still as alive as the stars illuminating the road together with the moonlight reflected off the snow. He stole a glance at the boy.

"Nearly there, kid," he whispered out of breath. Aurelius grunted in response.