The Secrets of the Marauders

Six

Six

Harry normally remembered Professor Dumbledore to be somewhat... OK, he wasn't quite sure what, but he knew that something was different about him now. Perhaps it was the fact that here he was, sitting in the same room as Dumbledore from nineteen years ago, or maybe it was just him.

He didn't know.

Dumbledore took a small bottle out of a little cabinet above the perch. Harry looked at it strangely for a moment, but thought it better not to say anything. He instead focused his attention on the reborn phoenix, who was now craning its neck for a good look around the room. Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight. He'd always loved phoenixes. In fact, this phoenix had saved his life twice in the same battle in his second year, so yes, he had a reason to like this one in particular.

Dumbledore, smiling, the twinkle in his eyes fading, but not quite disappearing, took the seat at his desk again with the bottle clutched in his long fingers.

Harry turned to him, and didn't think about privacy or rudeness at all as he watched - with annoying curiosity - Dumbledore uncap the bottle and hold it to his lips.

Only now was he conscious that Dumbledore might not want Harry watching him, so he quickly - though it wasn't all that easy to do so - tuned the Headmaster out - rather wrenched his gaze from the Headmaster, actually - and let his vision scour the rest of the room. He hadn't quite realised how much he had wanted to do so since he entered the room.

The silver instruments glinted at him through the glass cabinets, making him feel as though he were being watched. With building unease and awkwardness, he shifted his gaze to the door, which he almost longingly gazed at for a second, before quickly turning back to Dumbledore to check whether he had noticed. Harry grew extremely embarrassed when he found that Dumbledore was studying him intently, and he looked away sheepishly.

His eyes once again rested on the baby phoenix, who gave a tiny squawk before shaking off the soot from its feathers and jumping back onto its perch, where it wobbled a bit, but managed to keep its balance. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"I see you've taken an interest in my phoenix."

Harry inwardly jumped, but managed to stop his surprise from showing physically. He turned slowly and met Dumbledore's charitable smirk. He started speaking again and Harry somewhat felt like he was receiving a life lesson from a teacher - which, in theory, he was.

"His name is Fawkes," Dumbledore continued humbly. "I found him on an expedition a few years ago, gained his trust - it is very difficult to obtain a phoenix's trust. You need to do something for it before it can trust you completely. Phoenixes are also quite rare, I met Fawkes on a mountain plane - in a forest. He had quite literally flamed onto the branch of a tree above me... I dare say I got ash in my hair." He chuckled.

Fawkes abruptly gave a perfunctory hoot. With a growing pinch of interest, Harry turned to the source of the noise. Fawkes tilted his head at Harry, and Harry smiled, feeling a similar connection to the bird he knew. Enticed by the phoenix's elegance, Harry noticed the neon gold of its plumage shining in the sunset emanating from the circular window. The red feathers shone scarlet as the shadows cast over the darker colour. Fawkes' eyes hit a beetle black exuberance. His posture was sophisticated as ever but he moved his head lethargically, as if he was really laying in the sun.

Without realising what he was doing, Harry felt his arms push him up from the arm-rests and the back of his knees push the armchair back. He walked towards the bird, the sunset casting red and purple shadows over his face, though he did not notice. He brought his hand up and carefully approached the bird with outstretched fingers.