Some things cannot be forgotten, was Albus's thought when he realized when they were. And seeing your best friend kill your baby sister because of a freak case of accidental magic was definitely one of those things.

There were many things throughout his lifetime that he had regretted, but that was by far the worst.

He remembered it being a whirl of color all centered around his sweet Ariana. He remembered how things had broken around them while his sister had screamed her fury at them. He remembered his surprise at her anger, and he remembered his shock at her actions, but what he had not remembered was why it had all started.

And now he knew.

His sister, his wonderful forgiving, loving, permanently haunted little sister had withstood his less than stellar treatment of her person for far longer than he would have in her place. For weeks, he had ignored her in favor of his projects—his and Gellert's machinations. For weeks, they had ignored her problems, her existence, her fear of all things magical. For weeks, for months, she had only been that girl that lived in his home; not the sister that he made his home with. For months, Merlin had it been years, really? For many months on end, he had made his home with his lover, and she had been forgotten about in the back corner of his house, in the far reaches of his distant awareness.

When the elder Albus looked out onto what he had let his sister become—a recluse, a closeted being, a mere shell of her former beautiful self—he had shaken in anger at his foolish younger counterpart.

"James, some things should never occur," he stated in a barely controlled voice as they watched the scene unfold before them—all over again, at least for him.

"Like?" The ghostly figure seemed strangely calm.

"Like living one's life at the expense of another's," the older Albus whispered, still struggling to keep his emotions from dripping down his face.

"Like the Dursley's did with my son?" The strangely calm James asked, looking him straight in the eye for the first time in many days.

Albus's eyes widened at the comparison.

"Surely it wasn't that bad—," he tried, only to be cut off by a stern look from his companion.

"You saw him as a baby. You saw him as a toddler," James pointed out between gritted teeth. "Tell me that you don't see the similarities between him and Ariana!" The ghost shouted at him, pointing a deathly white finger towards the mess that had continued to explode before them.

Albus fell silent. Before them, Ariana had continued to scream out obscenities that he had never thought he'd hear come from her mouth.

"You can't make me stay here like this anymore!"

Ah, the true crux of the issue.

"And what would you do—go and live like a common filthy muggle?" His younger self had screamed back.

"That's exactly what I'd do," had been her response. "Oh how it would kill you to see me live out my days as such!"

Albus watched as the room began literally tearing itself apart around them. His sister had been so adamant about removing herself from the situation, and in contrast, he had only been a pigheaded bigoted fool.

"Ariana," he whispered during the pandemonium still raining down around them. "My sweet, precious Ariana," he said woefully, tear tracks becoming evident on his face the longer they watched.

Not aware of doing so, the older Albus began walking forwards, straight into the heart of the destructive mess. Around them, a vortex of splinters, glass and metal shards blew angrily; only getting bigger and more violent with each cruel verbal exchange.

The younger Albus only had eyes for his sister, but the older Albus knew better than to watch only her. He felt himself being drawn into the drama, his non-existence be damned all to hell.

"Stop, please," he pleaded, his words easily drowned out by the maelstrom swirling at the edges of their vision.

"Please don't hurt her," he begged of Gellert, knowing his pleas would go unanswered. After all, they had been ignored then; why should he expect his lover's actions to change the second time around?

"Don't do this!" He screamed in horror as he saw the only man whom he had ever loved begin raising his wand again. Hadn't watching his sister die once been enough already?

He wasn't sure why he did what he did next. It wasn't as though he could do anything to change the past, right?

"Avada—," Gellert had began, his wand pointed at Albus's still shrieking sister.

"No!" He screamed.

"No!" His younger self had screamed, only to be left watching in silent horror as his sister was struck down by his lover.

But this time, this time he didn't just watch her die. No, this time things were different.

"Protego!" The older, somewhat wiser Albus shouted; raising his wand only a moment before Gellert finished his casting of the unforgiveable.

Be it luck or be it fate, whatever the cause or reason behind it, this time—this time—when Albus fought to protect his sister, he somehow managed to do exactly that.

Unfortunately for Albus, it would be sometime before he realized exactly what he had done. When his spell met Gellert's curse, the air between them crackled with a force and will of its own previously unknown to either wizard.

And in that brief time between spells and eternity, two people disappeared from that when.

. . .

"Daddy!" Little Harry woke up screaming from his nightmare.

Seconds later, he found his Tall Man's warm arms around his body and he sobbed his relief out on the man's shoulder.

"Child, talk to me," his daddy asked imploringly to him.

"He's back!" Harry wailed, not even noticing how still his father's body had gone underneath his own.

"Who?" His daddy asked a few frightening heartbeats later.

"Da old man, the scary one dat said mean things about you!" He hiccupped tearfully.

"Dumbledore? The headmaster?"

"Uh huh," the small boy said, his thumb going into his mouth automatically as he curled against his daddy's warm chest. He felt, more than heard, his daddy sigh, and unconsciously he tightened his hold on the man.

"Peace, little one," his Tall Man rumbled in his ear soothingly. "He shall not hurt you. I won't let him."

. . .

Albus opened his eyes slowly, only to discover that he was back in his office. Everything looked the same as it had before; minus a few extra piles of work that he was certain hadn't been there previously. He stood up from his desk slowly, his muscles groaning at the effort. He had to face it. He was old. He was old and the past was once more the past. His mistakes were on his shoulders, and he accepted it.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and put his hands on his desk. Aberforth was right to be angry with him; right to break his nose at the funeral. All of these years had passed, and he finally could see that he had been wrong about all of it. He knew that Aberforth had not been meant for an academic career. He should have let Aberforth take their sister and take care of her like he had wanted.

He had been a fool.

Was he still a fool? Wearily he ran a hand over his face, ignoring any moisture that his fingers encountered.

And his sister? He hadn't seen what had happened after he had inserted himself into the violence of his past. The world had exploded around him; he knew that much, but nothing else was clear.

His sight blurred as his blue eyes filled with tears. And he purposely ignored himself as he sunk to the floor, weeping his woes out to his empty office.

. . .

In the highest tower of Hogwarts, the old Astronomy tower where young couples often frequented, a very odd looking woman sat on the floor, a dazed expression still present on her face. All was quiet around her until something in her mind clicked and she called out one solitary name.

"James?" She asked of the empty space surrounding her.

A flicker and then a ghostly smiling figure stepped forwards out of nothingness.

"Child?" The ghost of James Potter asked of the woman; a slight grin lighting his lips as he looked out onto her still confused face.

"What happened?" She whispered.

His face was a familiar one to her. He had visited her as a child, and then later as a teen and now finally as an adult. At times, the old man (Brian, her mind supplied) had been with him, but more often than not, it had been only James himself.

"The fates have had a change of heart, my dear," he said slowly.

"Where am I?"

"Hogwarts," he answered easily enough. That was the easy part.

"The school that Aberforth and Albus attended?" She asked in surprise; her blue eyes wide.

"Yes," he answered with a playful grin.

"How did I get here? Why am I here?" She wrapped her arms around her midriff, the chill of the evening air beginning to get to her.

"You are here to start over," James answered with a gentle smile. She watched as he closed his eyes and concentrated. A moment later, another silvery white ghost stepped out of the nothingness and joined him at his side.

"Ariana, I want you to meet my wife, Lily."

The woman, Ariana, scrambled to her feet and managed a curtsy for this new and strange figure that had so abruptly appeared before her.

"Pleased to meet you, my lady," she whispered nervously. She knew that she looked a fright, but up until that very moment, she had not cared. She had not cared about anything for so very long.

"Come child," the woman gestured that she follow them and she did. At first, their movements were sedate and somber as they accompanied her down the long stairwell. However, as time progressed, they got farther and farther in front of her, and she began having trouble seeing them.

"Hold on please!" She cried out down the stairwell, moving faster and faster, until she was literally running down the stairs. Every so often, she would get a glimpse of a pale stream of red hair or a laughing cheerful face, but for the most part, she was chasing nothing but the dark shadows that had continued to loom before and around her.

Stone walls and portraits whizzed past her as she ran, but she paid them no mind as she went past them; her hair unraveling as she went, flowing behind her back wildly like water. The darkness that had enclosed around her previously now seemed to welcome her into its folds easily, and before long, she found herself laughing out loud in delight at its childish actions.

"You can't frighten me!" She laughed, still practically flying down the stairs, chasing after the two ghosts in front of her.

As she ran, the nightmares of her life seemed to float and glide past her, lightening her soul considerably as they went by.

And then at long last, she tripped over the last few steps and tumbled gracelessly out into the corridor in a frumpy little heap of legs and bright blond hair. Quickly realizing that she wasn't harmed in the least, she jumped to her feet and looked around at her surroundings. Where once had stood a grown woman, eyes bitter and face drawn with many years of ongoing defeat now stood only a small child.

"James?" Her young voice called out into the hallway, only to be met with silence. And then—was that laughter she heard coming from down the way? She found herself skipping down the corridor as she sought out her joking friend.

The sound of his laughter took her carefully through the hallways until at long last it completely disappeared and she found herself standing in front of a large stone gargoyle. Peering up at it through golden blond hair, the little girl looked at it with a confused expression. Remarkably, she was not afraid of its odd appearance. On a whim, she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed its nose; only to giggle in delight as it opened before her.

If the sight of more stairs bothered the child, then it was not apparent by her actions. She quickly bounced up the steps, watching in amazement as they lifted her higher and higher, until she came upon a door. With very little hesitation, the little girl turned the doorknob and easily let herself in.

The room that met her eyes was the most marvelous thing that she had ever seen, and for a moment, she hardly dared blink as she tried to take it all in. It was only on her second perusal of the wonders around her that she found the man slumped on the floor, his head in his hands as he wept.

Feeling very much like a character from some misguided faerie tale, Ariana bravely stepped forwards and put her hand on the man's shoulder.

"Why are you crying?" She asked in a timid voice.

"I have been very bad," the man answered in a mournful voice. He then happened to lift his head, and froze completely in his movements as he stared at her.

"Where did you come from?" Was his hesitant and trembling inquiry.

"I came from up high," she said, pointing in a vague direction towards the astronomy tower.

Misunderstanding, as most adults are wont towards doing with small children, Albus incorrectly assumed that she meant she had come from heaven. After all, how else could an exact copy of his sister manage to make her way into his life?

She was dead, was she not?