The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

Shooting Stars

James made his way up through the castle after walking Macy and Sarah Struthers to Sarah's next class - Charms - pausing to nod at Flitwick so the girls would be excused for being tardy. The staircases were just as unpredictable as ever, but he remembered where each of the trick steps were and he grinned to himself as Peeves the Poltergeist trailed along behind him all the way up to the fifth floor corridor, blowing raspberries that corresponded with each step he took on the stairs so that it sounded as though his feet were making the noise, punctuated by the poltergeist's cackling laughter. Peeves mysteriously disappeared, though, when James stopped before the gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster's office.

James fished about in his pockets for a moment before coming up with the parchment that read the Headmaster's current candy preference password and he trotted up the moving staircase inside, impatient for the stone steps to carry him up themselves. The landing was cluttered with the usual wellies and umbrella stand. 

"Come in, Mr. Potter," called Dumbledore from inside before James had even had the chance to raise his hand to knock. James wondered how Dumbledore always knew when someone approached the door... and usually the Headmaster knew precisely who it was, too. Did he have some sort of charm cast on the stair, James considered, or perhaps the gargoyles?

Stepping into the office, James looked around. It would always be instinct, he realized, anytime he found himself here in the Headmaster's office. A part of him would always check for the ghost of Regulus Black - even though he knew better than to expect to see him lingering in the office while he was there. If Dumbledore had been speaking to Regulus before James had arrived, of course he would have sent him away long before James arrived at the top of the platform. He'd witnessed that much in the vision that Mopsus had given him on the beach. But still, he couldn't help but glance at the corners of the room, wondering how long it was before Regulus had started becoming more transparent, before the boy had begun feeling the longsuffering of the repeated recall. James's eyes even swept over the papers and trinkets on Dumbledore's desk, half expecting to see the black stone on the desk. But Dumbledore was pouring over what was clearly Ministry paperwork -- James recognized the letterhead. He balled his hands at his sides, fighting back the anger that thinking about Regulus's time spent at the hands of Albus Dumbleore inevitably rose in him. He was here for other matters - though no less frustrated with the old man for these matters than he was for that. But he had to admit, it was hard to be agnry with the face of the version of Dumbledore who sat behind the desk now, smiling up at James through halfmoon glasses, looking so kindly. 

"Ah, hello Mr. Potter, welcome." Dumbledore smiled and waved for James to take the seat across from him. "I was just thinking that I needed to have a talk with you. Marvelous timing you've had in coming to visit me!" he clapped his palms together merrily. "It was your first class today, wasn't it? How did it go, my boy?"

How did he manage that? James wondered. How did someone with such a cruel streak manage to smile with such a sparkle in his eyes as what lingered there now? How did he manage to speak in such circles that anyone listening might think that he was the kindest, wisest man in the world?

"It went... mostly alright, sir," James answered, lowering himself into the seat that Dumbledore indicated, once again noting the way it set him lower down than the chair Dumbledore sat in made him sit, so that he was forced to look up to the headmaster as he spoke. "But there's a couple things I wanted to discuss with you."

Dumbledore nodded, "Please, then, let us discuss your concerns."

"First off, I'd like to replace the school issued brooms these kids are learning on."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, "Oh? Is there something wrong with the current brooms?"

"Yeah," James answered bluntly, "They're in absolutely horrible condition... completely manky! The kids were getting splinters off the handles, the wood is all roughed up from use and they are terribly slow and honestly the kids deserve better. Especially since there are kids that use these brooms for try-outs and even matches sometimes. They can easily be outstripped on these things by even the most baseline model currently on the market and even in my time, Dumbledore, it wasn't very easy to make a team using the brooms the school supplies. Many families can't afford anything better for their kids and some of the best players with the greatest skills are being shunted off the teams because of their brooms. I won the cup with players like that, mind, from their sheer talent making up for the mankiness of the brooms, but gods alive, Dumbledore, that was what? Two years ago now? And the brooms are even worse than I remember them! Perfectly great players could be missing their chance - alright fliers could be legendary fliers - like Derek Bell was, sir, but they're limited by their parents' resources and forced to ride those horrid old things you've got and - and that's hardly fair, is it?"