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Aberforth Dumbledore stood silently before his son Aurelius's white crypt. The polished marble tomb, crafted by Aurelius’s loyal Phoenix, Ember, stood just outside The Hog's Head, nestled in a small grove of weeping willow trees. The delicate rustling of the tree's long, thin branches seemed to murmur in the wind, a soft melody in tune with the quiet surroundings. The willow, a symbol of survival and rebirth, provided a quiet strength to the place where Aurelius rested.
The willow's presence was fitting; it represented life after death and the resurrection of the soul, something Aberforth never fully believed in, but couldn't deny in this moment. Gladiolus flowers surrounded the crypt in a perfect circle—symbols of remembrance and strength. Aberforth had never been one for symbolism, but the arrangement, chosen by Ember herself, seemed to suit his son’s final resting place in a way words couldn't express.
He hadn't expected to see anyone today, but the sound of someone hushing another person broke his stillness. He turned, and his gaze fell upon Nagini—his son's companion, perhaps something more. She stood a few feet away, her expression a mixture of grief and apprehension.
"I’m sorry," she said quickly, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I didn’t mean to intrude. I only just learned of Credence’s death. I had to pay my respects."
Aberforth gave a quiet nod, his voice gruff but sincere. "You’re welcome. He had few friends, but they deserve to say goodbye." She hesitated for a moment before walking forward. She dropped to her knees beside the grave, her sobs breaking the silence of the grove. Aberforth stood a little distance away, giving her space, understanding the depth of her loss.
Nagini’s grief was clear, and Aberforth couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. She had loved his son, and perhaps losing him hurt more than the curse that had followed her since birth. He didn’t interrupt her until the sound of a soft whimper caught his attention.
Turning slowly, he saw a small child—no older than two—standing off to the side, watching them both. The child looked remarkably like Nagini, with dark, silky skin, but her hair was pale as snow. Her eyes were familiar, though Aberforth couldn’t place them immediately.
Nagini, wiping her tears, called softly, "Snowdrop? Come here, my dear."
The little girl ran to her mother, but upon seeing the grave, her small face crumpled, and she began to cry. "Can we please go back to the tavern to talk privately?" she asked quietly, her voice tiny but filled with sadness. Aberforth nodded, his heart heavy, and led them back to the pub.
Once there, Aberforth offered them some of his stew, though it was clear they hadn’t eaten well in some time. Snowdrop devoured the food eagerly, but Aberforth couldn’t help but notice the frailty of both mother and child. Their clothes were ragged, and their bodies showed signs of malnutrition. He could only assume that Nagini’s curse had made it impossible for her to care for Snowdrop properly.
After Snowdrop had eaten her fill, Aberforth took her upstairs to sleep. When he returned downstairs, he found Nagini sitting at the bar, her expression unusually emotional.
"Do you like her?" she asked, surprising Aberforth. "She's such a lovely girl. I can tell you've had a hard life, too. But I feel you’re here for more than just to pay respects to my son."
Aberforth exhaled slowly, his hand on the edge of the table as he considered her words. "Yes," he replied gently, meeting her gaze. "I thought as much."
Nagini took a deep breath and began to explain. "Snowdrop is Credence’s daughter—and your granddaughter. We only had one night together before we fled the circus. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after Grindelwald turned him against us. I’ve been hiding in Paris ever since, keeping Snowdrop safe. But now, my curse… it’s close to overtaking me, and I can’t care for her much longer."
Her voice faltered as she continued. "I’m asking you to take care of her, Aberforth. She didn’t inherit my affliction, and a healer has assured me she won’t turn out like her father. But she needs love, family—something neither of us had. She’s the only part of Credence left. Please, I beg you."
Aberforth stood still, absorbing her words. Then, without a word, he moved toward her and wrapped her in a firm embrace. "You don’t need to ask. I’ll take care of her. She’ll be loved, and she’ll have a home here."
Nagini wiped her eyes, her relief clear. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."
"Stay tonight," Aberforth said gently. "At least stay long enough to say goodbye to her properly."
Nagini nodded and agreed to stay for a few more nights. A week later, she left Snowdrop with Aberforth, praying for her daughter’s safety and well-being. She looked up toward the sky, her heart filled with a desperate plea. "Please, whatever divine forces exist, protect her. Let her have the life that was denied to us. That’s all I ask."