The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Dumbledore

Phoebe had never been inside of the headmasters office before. It had taken her a few minutes to understand that the password to reveal the stairs was in fact 'sugarquills.'

She was not prepared for the amount of junk cluttering the space. She wrinkles her nose slightly as she snoops, peering at the portraits and statues and mysterious objects. Phoebe nearly jumps out of her skin when she looks above his desk and sees a beautiful Phoenix watching her passively.

Curiosity gets the best of her and she approaches the creature, recalling her readings on such things. It's black eyes look like smoldering charcoal against the glowing gold and ruby red plumage. She wishes it would sing, having read that their song can bring evil wizards to their knees and provide support and comfort to those who need it.

"His name is Fawkes."

Phoebe jumps again, quickly retracting her hand from where it was reaching out to touch the creature. Quickly turning around she faces Dumbledore, saying hurriedly, "Sorry Professor."

"Don't apologize, Phoebe. I hear you have a great future in Magizoology." The wizard smiles behind his pearly white beard, looking at her calmly. It's the first time he's used her name, and Phoebe feels some of her nervousness slip away.

"I've never seen one up close," Phoebe admits, turning to gaze at Fawkes. The creature holds her gaze evenly, not looking the slightest bit perturbed by her presence. "They're rather difficult to domesticate."

"Indeed," Dumbledore acknowledges. "I believe he's one of two. Lemon drop?"

Phoebe blinks curiously at the man, looking down to see him holding a tin of sweets. She hesitates before she shakes her head. Dumbledore smiles kindly and says, "Your secret is safe with me."

Phoebe smiles a little at his wonders and finally nods, taking two of the sweets before she sits down in the chair in front of his desk. She sucks on the candies happily, momentarily forgetting her promise to forgo sweets if possible. She asks quietly, "I don't want to be rude, Professor...but do you know my mother?"

The wizard nods, taking his own seat. He too pops a candy in his mouth, putting Phoebe even more at ease. He ponders his response before saying, "I've known your mother for some time."

Phoebe listens quietly, waiting for him to continue. She's surprised when he says suddenly, "I'm glad that you and Mr. Black are close. Your parents aren't as different as you may think."

Phoebe bristles at the implication, quick to defend her mother. She would never wish someone dead based on their blood status. She opens her mouth to lash out, but he stops her with a hand.

"By that I mean they hold old fashioned ideals. Wouldn't you agree?"

Phoebe desperately wants to ridicule the man, tell him that her mother is good. But he isn't wrong.

"I suppose."

Dumbledore smiles at her concession, saying calmly, "The standards that your grandmother placed on your mother, that are now placed on you, come from a time where Veela were seen differently. Your ancestry is strong and contains long lines of purity, and purity means sticking to the mold."

"And you disagree with that mold, Professor?" Phoebe asks. He looks at her over his glasses, a twinkle of some emotion Phoebe can't place in his eye.

"Don't you?" He questions, leaning back in his seat. Phoebe ruminates on the question, knowing her answer immediately. She knew that her mother's teaching was out dated. Veela weren't just one way. They didn't have to be graceful or musically talented, or classy and chaste but still alluring to men. The emphasis on pleasing men was an old one that Phoebe would certainly not pass down to her descendants. It was a promise she'd made to herself long ago.

"The reason I'm telling you this, is while I don't necessarily agree with all of the lessons you've been told...I do agree with one."

Phoebe waits expectantly, raising her eyebrows when he says, "Control."

Unable to help herself she recoils slightly. Her whole life had been about control. There was an appropriate response and action for every situation that she was supposed to abide by.

"Your blood gives you magic that no normal witch or wizard has," He explains gently, noting her barely hidden disgust with his word choice. He formulated his next words carefully, "If you can grasp your magic appropriately, then it can be greatly beneficial. Especially in this war."

Phoebe feels the blood drain from her face at his words. She knew the day would come that she had to reckon with the fact that this was her war just as much as anyone else's. She didn't expect it to be so soon.

"Do you recall how you used your charm to help Mr. Potter?"

She nods quickly, hand sneaking out to his desk to grab another lemon drop. The wizard grabs one as well, observing her as she nervously pops the yellow candy into her mouth.

"I'd like you to practice that. Try to utilize your charm, even call forth some fire if possible. I leant Mr. Potter a book about such things that you would do well to read."

"You have James a book about veela?" Phoebe squawks in disbelief, her body flooding with embarrassment. The wizard chuckles and nods, speaking with mirth in his voice, "Yes. He too could do with some understanding of your kind. Unlike Mr. Black and yourself, The Potters have no expectation of their son beyond being kind. It's difficult for someone of that upbringing to understand yours. Especially when you feel and can do things with magic that he can't."

Phoebe frowns slightly, letting out a gusty sigh, "This is a lot for me to take in."

"All I'm asking is that you practice your magic, Phoebe. To protect yourself and others."

She gazes at the old wizard, only seeing kindness and honesty in his face. Priding herself on reading people, she reckons silently that she can trust him.

"How do I practice?"

The headmaster smiles rather cheekily, saying, "I believe your friends lost something of great value. Perhaps Mr. Filch would be willing to discuss it with you."

Phoebe furrows her brow before it dawns on her, a grin working its way onto her face as a light bulb goes off in her head.

"Thank you, Professor." Phoebe says quickly, gathering her things and waving goodbye to both the Headmaster and his Phoenix before disappearing from his office.