The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Chocolate frogs

"Go on up dear,"

Phoebe turns to the professor with wide eyes.

"You aren't coming with me?" She asks nervously, watching Mcgonagall smile kindly. She just shakes her head and gestures for her to walk up the stairs. Phoebe takes a deep breath and then does as she's told, glowering as she trudges up the stairs. She bursts into Dumbledores office, stomping her way over and flopping down unceremoniously in the chair across from his.

Part of her wanted to make a scene, be bratty and rude. But her mother's words on class fly into her brain as soon as the old wizard makes an appearance. She quickly straightens up and mumbles,

"Hi, Professor."

"Phoebe. I'm glad you could join me."

She eyes him suspiciously as he takes his seat across from her. He studies her as well, both of them silent until he says calmly,

"Chocolate frogs."

Phoebe raises a brow, feeling slightly confused.

"What?" She asks, tilting her head as the old man smiles.

"Chocolate frogs. Would you like one?"

He holds up the container that held lemon drops last time. She nearly tells him to piss off, but she hadn't had a sweet since Christmas dinner. Phoebe sighs and snags one of the boxed chocolates quickly, like he'll change his mind and take it away.

The headmaster watches her unfold the box and let out a gusty sigh. She can't stop her eyes from rolling when she brandishes the collectable card from the sweet, Dumbledores picture and bio on display:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.

"Really?" She asks exasperatedly. The headmaster has the decency to look the slightest bit bashful.

"My greatest accomplishment," He says with mirth. Phoebe smiles a little before she can stop it and pockets the card, taking a tiny nibble of the chocolate as he continues,

"I see that your friends have witnessed your use of fire?"

"Yes, Sir." She feels slightly nervous now. Would she be expelled? There was no way, not after the things they'd said to her

"Professor, I—"

"I'm well aware of the circumstances, Phoebe. No need to fret."

She takes another anxious bite of chocolate, chewing thoroughly and swallowing before asking,

"Why am I here?"

He smiles faintly, and Phoebe can suddenly see how old he really is. He has smile lines deepened from time, though covered now with a tired and worried expression that makes her feel sympathy for the wizard despite her previous rage. She wonders, before he can answer her first question,

"Did you know that my mother was dead? Before you told me?"

He didn't stray from his calm emotions usually, so she is taken aback slightly when he leans forward in his chair and says earnestly,

"No, Phoebe. I did not know. I knew there was a chance, but I did not know that she was dead."

She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding and says quietly,

"Thank you. I'm sorry I was so...disrespectful last time we spoke."

He waves it aside like it's nothing, so Phoebe decides that if he can let it go, she can too.

"I've asked you here because the world is only getting more dangerous. Hogwarts is safer than most places, but Voldemort's ideals have infiltrated the school."

"You mean Slytherin?"

He smiles at her question and cautions, "Not all in Slytherin are bad, wouldn't you say?"

She instantly thinks of Regulus. He wasn't bad. Maybe he wasn't good, but he certainly wasn't bad.

The headmaster continues, "And not all that are bad are from Slytherin."

Phoebe wrinkles her nose, trying to picture a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff or Merlin forbid a Gryffindor hating someone based on blood.

"It's coming. Soon, isn't it?" She asks softly, almost afraid to hear his answer. He nods once, eyes constant on hers behind his half moon glasses.

"I'm afraid so," He speaks sympathetically, looking almost sorrowful. "I wish I had better news. But I believe you and perhaps your friends may have a bigger role to play."

She raises her brows in surprise, asking hurriedly, "What role, Professor? You mean in the war?"

He smiles and breezes past her question, humming contentedly, "You enjoyed your holiday with the Potters?"

His tone leads her to believe that he won't answer further questions about the impending war. She huffs, "Yes. They're lovely."

"I hear that they regard you in the same way. James certainly does."

She flushes at his words. He smiles mischeviously and asks,

"I suppose your mother wouldn't approve?"

Phoebe laughs before she can stop herself, replying easily, "No, Sir. My mother did not favour Sirius. She most certainly would not care for my relationship with James."

"I wonder if she would have surprised you. She did send you here after all. That's quite a break from tradition."

Phoebe ponders the thought for a moment, considering if maybe her mother would've liked James Potter. Even when Phoebe hadn't loved him, she'd never hated him. He was too bloody charming not to like.

"Maybe," She says finally. Her face falls, the old wizard taking notice but not prompting her to share. He's almost surprised when she does, whispering,

"My mother didn't deserve to die that way. Used and tossed away like nothing. She was never the best mother, but she was good at her work, good at being fair. She was the very best of my grandmother. The best of her sisters as well."

Dumbledore sighs and peers down at her through his glasses. His blue eyes are calm and peaceful. They don't show an ounce of his age. They seem spry and mischievous and young. Phoebe feels a great deal better looking in to them.

"I have to hope that there will be a chance for justice, Phoebe. For your mother."

Her throat feels thick with emotion. So she just nods, and despite the obvious opportunity to leave she and Dumbledore both reach for another chocolate frog.