deathtocapslock | Fifteen Years: Reflections on Aberforth (Reply)

In a response to the sporking of DH C2 by oneandthetruth, Hwyla wrote:

Although I think we were meant to believe Aberforth has an unhealthy relationship with his goats, my very favorite theory I ever heard on his inappropriate charms was that he had invented one to make the goats expel bezoars (rather than having to be killed to harvest them) and so had basically a bezoar farm on the side.

One thing I had not noticed until this sporking - the date of this accusation. For some reason, I had just always thought this happened in his youth - probably because it was connected in my mind with Albus saying he didn't think Aberforth could read.

However, fifteen years ago when Harry has just turned 17 means roughly just as Harry turned 2 or so. I've never wondered before what the 'inappropriate charms' might have had to do with the year after of the fall of Voldy. And just WHY, with all the DEs to round up, were the aurors concentrating on Aberforth's goats!

I somewhat wonder whether they thought he was a DE based on the reputation of the Hogs Head and the goats were the only thing they could arrest him on.

*

I started to post this as a response to Hwyla, but it metastasized, as these things do.

I’m getting queasy thinking about the fact that Aberforth was convicted by the Wizengamot of inappropriate use of magic fifteen years before Skeeter’s publicity for her bio of Albus in summer of 1997.

Fifteen years before 1997 is 1982. Anytime January to December 1982 might legitimately be called fifteen years before mid 1997.

Only, see, I know how I refer to times. When I’m talking in late spring/early summer about something that happened two winters earlier, I speak of it as having happened, say, November before last. Or, Christmas a year ago.

Over time, that would get morphed to “Christmas ten years ago” and finally to “fifteen years ago”. I tend to round down, not up, in casual speaking. Fifteen and a half, contrary to formal mathematical usage, usually becomes fifteen, not sixteen.

Okay, but that’s just me.

But we know that Aberforth’s case was tried before the Wizengamot. How efficient does the Wizard judicial system look to you?

When Harry Potter was caught transgressing by a Minister for Magic who wanted his blood (or at least, his silence and banishment), it took about a fortnight between Harry’s offense and his hearing. That’s with Harry’s notoriety and the anxiety of the Ministry greasing every possible wheel to get Harry the earliest possible (biased) hearing.

How long does it usually take before more routine cases come to trial? Morfin was told in midsummer that his hearing would be in mid-September. And that was during peacetime, when there wouldn’t have been a backlog of war crime cases.

In late 1981 and early 1982, as Hwyla points out, the Wizengamot must have been utterly overwhelmed with very high-profile cases indeed of suspected Death Eaters trying to plead innocence, or failing that, the Imperius.

So if Aberforth were convicted of “inappropriate magic” sometime in 1982, there’s at least a good chance that he was actually arrested in late 1981.

Say, in the roundups immediately subsequent to the defeat of You-Know-Who.

And as Hwyla and others so rightly point out, it’s wildly unlikely that the Aurors really would target anyone, at that point in time, for practicing inappropriate charms on an animal. No PETA members in the WW, remember? And not when all available Aurors were so thoroughly engrossed in pursuing larger fish.

So then who did?

*

Setting firmly aside anything Albus might have had to say about his brother, what do we know?

We know that Aberforth moved to Hogsmeade (eschewing his childhood homes both at Godric’s Hollow and at Mould-on-the Wold) and ran a rather disreputable pub there.

We know that this pub seemed a congenial gathering place for Death Eaters over quite a span of time: in the ‘50’s/60’s (whenever it was that Tom begged Albus for a teaching post), in the early ‘80’s (when Severus Snape was on hand to overhear a Prophecy), and in 1998 (when the threat to turn them out made the DE’s agree that the stag Patronus they’d seen must have been a goat).

And we know some other things.

We know, for example, what Aberforth says when he speaks for himself.

And some of that is rather ugly.

I like Ab, if only for his resistance to his brother.

But I’m pretty sure by now that he would never have tolerated the likes of me.

We have three accounts of Percival’s crime, and Aberforth’s tells us both much more, and oddly less, than the other two.

Elphias said, “Alhus had arrived at Hogwarts under the burden of unwanted notoriety. Scarcely a year previously, his father, Percival, had been convicted of a savage and well-publicized attack upon three young Muggles.”

Rita characterized Percival as “the Muggle-maiming father.”

Aberforth told us, “When my sister was six years old, she was attacked, set upon, by three Muggle boys. They’d seen her doing magic, spying through the back garden hedge…. What they saw scared them, I expect. They forced their way through the hedge, and when she couldn’t show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it.”

So Ariana was attacked by three other children, boys, who had been frightened by her and got “carried away” by their fear. They were just trying to “stop” her, according to Aberforth’s understanding, not to do her actual harm. Most people, and the Muggle justice system, would consider these factors all to be mitigating circumstances.

And Aberforth?

Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain.

“It destroyed her, what they did: She was never right again…. at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless.

“And my father went after the bastards that did it,” said Aberforth, “and attacked them. And they locked him up in Azkaban for it. He never said why he’d done it, because if the Ministry had known what Ariana had become, she’d have been locked up in St. Mungo’s for good.”

Um.

Somehow, what’s conveyed by these words is not unqualified support for the Ministry’s efforts to uphold law and order.

Or chivalry towards those Muggle children, utterly defenseless before an adult wizard’s rage.

“The bastards that did it”?

Um, but you’ve just told us that the perpetrators were terrified children who didn’t mean real harm, Ab! And what precisely did Percival do to them in vengeance, in this “attack” of his?

Interestingly non-explicit term to use. Did he slap their faces, or what?

Elphias said that the “attack” had been “savage;” Rita called it a “maiming.”

Moreover, we know that Morfin, a repeat offender who violently resisted arrest, got only three years in Azkaban for a painful and public, but easily reversed, attack upon his Muggle neighbor. When he followed that (supposedly) with a Muggle-murder, he got life.

We don’t know what Percival’s sentence had been, but we know both that he died eventually in Azkaban, and that he’d been there well over a year. And it’s wildly unlikely that Percival had risked his family (the family he was trying to protect by never explaining his motive) by dueling with the arresting Aurors, as Morfin had.

So it really seems that whatever it was that had been done to those three children, was what provoked the severity of Percival’s sentence.

And that Percival’s supposed actions {See Swythyv about the point of “supposed”) had met with Aberforth’s general approval.

Elphias told us further, “Some, indeed, were disposed to praise his father’s action and assumed that Albus too was a Muggle-hater. They could not have been more mistaken.”

Maybe. But I bet they weren’t mistaken at all in making the same assumption about Percival’s younger son.

I think that Aberforth became a notorious Muggle-hater, going so far as to relocate to Hogsmeade, the only place in all of Britain where he wouldn’t have their stink in his nostrils.

(Or risk Azkaban by being tempted to repeat his father’s crime.)

No wonder, as Tom started recruiting followers on a platform of ruling over Muggles openly, his followers would expect the proprietor of the Hog’s Head to welcome their custom.

But what the Death Eaters didn’t know was that there was one thing (and maybe one only) that Aberforth hated worse even than the Muggles who’d destroyed his sister’s magic and future: charismatic, brilliant wizard supremacists who propose to subjugate those Muggles by force.

Like, you know, the wizard who’d killed her (whichever it was).

“But he did all right for a few weeks [Albus taking care of Ariana]… till he came.”

And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth’s face.

“Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to, someone just as bright and talented as he was. Looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding Order, and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all Wizardkind, and if one young girl got neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good?

“But after a few weeks of it, I’d had enough, I had….

“And there was an argument… and I pulled out my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me by my brother’s best friend—and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldn’t stand it—“

“…and I don’t know which of us did it, it could have been any of us—and she was dead.”

(I hadn’t noticed before that Aberforth had not only initiated the argument—in Ariana’s hearing, stupidly—he’d also been the first to pull his wand. Escalating from words to potential violence. Nor was Ab sure that it wasn’t his own spell that had killed her. His guilt over the outcome must have been enormous, then; no wonder he worked so hard to displace it all onto that, that, that Grindelwald. Which makes me want to hug him for that careful admission that “it could have been any of us.” Like his acknowledgement that “the bastards” he’s hated lifelong for “destroying” his sister were actually frightened fellow children. It seems that Aberforth’s reaction to the secrecy and lies in which he was raised is to need to tell the truth. Even when it contradicts the story he’s bent his whole soul on believing.)

*

The Death Eaters didn’t know why Aberforth could never join them.

But Albus did.

Except, this time, Albus himself was resisting the newest Dark Lord.

The second time around was different. This time, Albus didn’t need his younger brother to tell him not to fall for the handsome boy’s flim-flam about sacrificing wizards and witches now to secure a future in which no magic-user would need to hide, nor any Muggle ever dare harm or cross them.

The second time around, Albus didn’t need a death to keep him from following a brilliant, charismatic magic worshipper who wanted sacrifices to bring about a new world order.

So… Maybe Albus’s changes really were more than cosmetic. Maybe he had learned to respect the real needs of real people, and to put them ahead of his imagined Greater Good. Maybe that was really why he’d dueled Grindelwald in the end.

Because he’d actually learned not to believe Gellert’s promises that sacrificing real people now would bring about that Greater Good.

So Aberforth passed information to Albus on the sly. And watched his brother.

Eventually, he even joined the Order, and formalized his role as one of Albus’s “useful spies.”

The Death Eaters knew of his blood tie to Albus, but Aberforth convincingly, and quite truthfully, told them he’d been on the outs with his brother since he was a boy. And that what the Death Eaterss proposed to do to Muggles met with Ab’s full approval.

However big fools he thought these Death Eaters for imagining that their Dark Lord wouldn’t batten on them first and foremost.

Gellert had claimed to want domination over Muggles. What he’d accomplished was terror in the Wizarding World, and laying waste to the better part of two generations of magical folk in the countries where he’d achieved power.

And the first, the very first, casualty of his campaign for magical rights had been Aberforth’s baby sister.

Aberforth fully expected the newest Dark Lord to follow the same pattern.

The nice thing about being a cynic is being able, when the worst happens, to pat yourself on your back and congratulate yourself on your foresight.

History did indeed repeat itself. The biggest victims of You-Know-Who’s campaign to assume power were his own supporters, followed in almost equal measure by the witches and wizards most prominently arrayed in active opposition.

No big surprise to Aberforth.

It probably didn’t even come as a surprise to Ab that his older brother had, once more, escaped unscathed the death and ruin that had come to so many of his followers, as to Voldemort’s.

Albus was like that. Throw him in a midden, he strolls away smelling of Amortencia.

But what probably did come as a shock to Aberforth—a big one—was one of Albus’s actions immediately following the Dark Lord’s fall.

At least, if Aberforth had ever trusted, however warily, in Albus’s reformation.

(Rather than reluctantly bringing the information he’d gleaned as barman of the Hog’s Head on DE movements to his brother solely in default of any better contact.)

The fact that Aberforth had done such a damned-fool thing as to let himself be photographed among the members of his brother’s little vigilante army…. Well. Either a rush of fraternal feeling had overpowered Aberforth’s judgment, or he’d done it as a sop to his other set of contacts. In which case Peter was not the only person reporting formally to the Death Eaters on the exact composition of the Order.

And I don’t, myself, quite see that. I don’t see Aberforth in an exact reprise of Severus’s role at a lower level, as an acknowledged double (triple, quadruple) agent. He seems to have fought too hard to stay neutral—dodgy, but neutral. He never took the Dark Mark, however much he made those who had them feel welcome under his roof.

And that he fought shy of the Ministry… Well, Percival’s experiences with the Ministry may have led his younger son to believe the law intrinsically unjust, anyhow. Who’d want to be law-abiding, when the law sent a good man to Azkaban only for defending his little daughter?

(What the hell was Albus up to, anyhow, allowing that picture to be taken—allowing ANY large-scale gathering of the Order—when he already knew, or suspected, that he had a traitor in those ranks?)

So I tend, myself, to read Aberforth as having, for a time, believed that his big brother had indeed seen the light, the error of his overly-bright ways. That Aberforth, for a time, not only worked actively against the newest Dark Lord, but trusted his brother’s leadership in that cause.

Even trusted Albus, to a limited extent. Imagined that Mr. Bright might actually have learned his lesson from Gellert.

A trust which came crashing down when Albus gave Harry to the Dursleys.

No one knew better than the Dumbledore brothers how much damage might be done to a vulnerable magical child by hateful, terrified Muggles.

No one.

And Albus consigned a BABY to that fate.

Sacrificed a child.

To the Greater Good.

Again.

*

You did WHAT, Albus?

*

So what could Albus do, at that point?

He HAD to shut up his brother, to discredit him entirely. It was obligatory. What Albus had done, had had to be done. Albus could not afford questions.

And Aberforth, that known Muggle-hater and consorter with Death Eaters, was in a very precarious position, had he ever stopped to realize that before furiously confronting his brother.

And all Albus had to do, really, was just … just step back a little.

Only that.

*

Remember Albus’s defense of Severus Snape, ending with that ringing endorsement? “I have given evidence already on this matter. Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort’s downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am.”

What did Albus say in his brother’s defense?

Did he hurry to the Ministry the moment Aberforth was detained on suspicion of Death Eater sympathies and proudly proclaim:

“Unhand my brother, sirrahs! Aberforth is indeed a Muggle-hater, and he indeed led the Death Eaters to believe him sympathetic to their goals. However, he never joined them in reality. Instead, and at great personal risk, he has been my spy upon them for over twenty years. My brother has no more ever been a Death Eater than I have.”

Or did Albus say something a little less convincing? And, er, wait a bit, perhaps, before he started saying it?

“My brother is indeed a Muggle-hater, and he therefore naturally found parts of the Death Eater program attractive. But although he let them use his premises freely, I am convinced that he never would have cooperated with them beyond that. In fact, on more than one occasion, I was able to obtain valuable information about their movements from him.”

“Well, erm, yes. Yes, upon persuasion. Still, I am fully assured that my brother never actually joined Lord Voldemort’s followers. He’s far too… independent a soul to be a good follower, as the Ministry knows.”

“Look, he’s a barman. All he did, really, was welcome paying customers and offer them a discreet place to meet. You don’t plan to prosecute Madam Puddifoot for having setved Evan Rosier cups of tea, do you?”

“Well, yes, I do appreciate the difference. But I assure you that my brother poses no danger to society now—other than, of course, unhygienic conditions for his customers. But if they’re not complaining, why should we? “

“Well, if you indeed think there’s evidence enough that he was a true follower of Lord Voldemort, it’s my own duty to join you in punishing him as such, my brother or not. But our evidence, as I see it, indicates merely that my brother served the Death Eaters Firewhiskey and sympathy, and agreed with some of their goals. Not commendable, not to be encouraged—I’ve made no secret of my differences with him on these matters—but not actually illegal. If you believe it necessary to punish him publicly, don’t do so on the grounds of sympathies that some entirely innocent people also share. Find an actual crime he’s committed, however trivial, and punish him for that. He’ll understand the real reason, and think twice about whose custom he welcomes in future.”

“Actual crime? You have a choice, I should imagine, if you look hard enough, But I should pick one far removed from the real issue of making the Hog’s Head a haven for … well. unsavory sorts. After all, we don’t want actually to dissuade his other customers from going there, do we? So long as they do, the Ministry always knows where to look for them, right?”

“Since you ask, I should recommend investigating his goat. In the past seventy years he’s shown infinitely more regard for those animals than for any human. And his current pet is suspiciously frisky for her age.”

*

“Aberforth, I did what I could, but they all believed me to be upholding you out of fraternal feelings. They believe you to be at least a Death Eater sympathizer, and your anti-Muggle sentiments are too well known to make my protests convincing. You played your part too well there—well, that much hadn’t been a part, had it? And, forgive me, your own… anti-authoritarian attitude doesn’t help you with the Wizengamot. The best I could manage was to get the Wizengamot to agree to prosecute you on a lesser charge, and I think I can get them to accept time served and a fine as your punishment.”

*

“My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high, and went about his business as usual. Of course, I’m not entirely sure he can read, so that might not have been bravery….”

Well, Aberforth would hold his head high if that damn Ministry was really persecuting him for not bowing and truckling to them enough to satisfy them he wasn’t one of those damned fool Death Eaters.

Of course anyone hearing that charge, and no details, would think they knew what kind of “charms” Aberforth must have been practicing. Nudge nudge, wink wink.

When Ab’s crime might have been merely practicing veterinary medicine without a license.

(Note that most governments have laws making it illegal to break government-endorsed monopolies, as well as those outlawing behavior that’s considered self-evidently wrong in that culture. You know, WRONG. Like murder. Or like stealing another man’s property by helping his slaves escape. Or like having sex with a consenting adult of the wrong shape. In the jurisdiction in which I live, gays can legally marry. But not distill liquor, or grow tobacco.)

Only, anyone hearing about the charges, and that the Wizengamot refused to specify them further, would be quite, quite certain about what Aberforth had really done.

Well, not the specifics. One wouldn’t want the specifics, in such a case. Unless one were as big a pervert as the criminal.

And no one, ever, would ever listen to someone convicted (in the court of public opinion) of bestiality about an issue like suitable guardians for a child.

Even if he was right, and scrupulously honest in his accusations.

*

And if Aberforth had always felt Harry to be, like Ariana, another of his brother’s child-victims, that explains why he eventually bought that mirror off Dung and tried to “keep an eye” on Harry, despite never having bought the Kool-Aid drinkers’ “Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him.”

Aberforth didn’t ever choose to protect and help Harry because he expected Harry to save him from big bad Voldemort. Instead he insisted, “The Order of the Phoenix is finished, You’Know-Who’s won, and anyone who’s pretending different’s kidding themselves. … So go abroad, go into hiding, save yourself. Best take these two with you.”

Nor did he protect Harry because he felt driven to honor his brother’s wishes.

“My brother, Albus, wanted a lot of things,” said Aberforth, “and people had a habit of getting hurt while he was carrying out his grand plans. You get away from this school, Potter, and out of the country if you can. Forget my brother and his clever schemes.... you don’t owe him anything.”

Rather sweeping pronouncements, Ab, especially the last. You know this how?

But it’s clear enough now why Aberforth had really been helping these:”unqualified wizard kids.”

Not for self-preservation; and not in deference to his dead brother.

He’d simply wanted the last of his brother’s innocent child-victims, unlike the first, to escape alive.