Palette

After a pint at the Hog’s Head Albus decided to take a walk. It was a bitter pint, to say the least, and he didn’t feel refreshed afterwards. The pleasant hum of the alcohol didn’t reach his head and didn’t make his blood sing as it used to. Aberfoth was slowly thawing towards him but on the nights like this one Albus couldn’t help but wonder if it was really worth poking the old wounds. Their relationship naturally deteriorated in their youths and the mending process was slow and deeply painful for both sides. Albus knew his brother and knew that there was a heart of gold hidden in Aberforth, the better man out of them two. He also knew there were things Aberforth would never forgive him for, small things. Albus didn’t seek forgiveness for the big things because to get blessed with a forgiveness one must accept it, and he would not. “Should I even try?” he asked quietly, and the thickening twilight around replied with the rustle of the wind in the trees. “Or am I making things even worse? Maybe I should stop torturing us both… Maybe sometimes giving up is a wise thing to do. Not a defeat but a conscious choice.” There was a flash of fire in the darkness, the twirl of colors — gold, red, auburn just like his hair, and claws clutched on his shoulder gently. Fawkes was too big to sit on his shoulder but Albus appreciated his friendly touch. What he didn’t appreciate were the talons that ripped the cloth of his cloak, but that was a small price to pay for companionship and warmth that phoenix so readily provided. People mistook them for a master and a pet because people liked to put tags on the things they didn’t understand in order to simplify complicated concepts. They were friends and equals. Even though sometimes Albus doubted whether he deserved to be called an equal to a creature that wise and old as Fawkes was. “You have been listening, haven’t you?” the wizard sighed. Fawkes clenched his talons a little, agreeing, and Albus continued. “So, I was wondering… maybe it would be for the best to choose the lesser of two evils here and stop trying with Aberfoth.” Fawkes squawked sullenly and ruffled his feathers. “I know. But maybe — just maybe — it would be for the best? For the greater good…” his voice abruptly turned into a shriek of pain and surprise. Fawkes pecked his earlobe, and it wasn’t an affectionate gesture. It felt like a thick needle stabbed his ear. The phoenix screeched angrily, and when Albus touched his ear he realised there was blood on his fingertips. And then he started laughing. “I am sorry, Fawkes… I deserved it completely… You are right, as always, of course… Any greater good draws blood in the end… you are so right… and I am truly sorry.” Fawkes ruffled his feathers again but then chirped melodically which meant the apology was accepted. “You are my better half, Fawkes. You know that, don’t you?” Albus said and Fawkes silently agreed. The walk to the castle was longer than usual. Fawkes entertained both of them hunting small rodents and Dumbledore watched him admiring fiery whirl shining in the darkness.