The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Mr. Scamander

Phoebe sits between Sirius and James, directly across from Mrs and Mr. Potter. The man looked uncannily like his son, down to the messy brown mop of hair. He was weathered, but his eyes sparkled with youth just like his wife.

"So, Phoebe," Mr. Potter starts, drawing her attention. "You are originally from France?"

The Veela smiles and tucks some of her hair behind her ear. "Yes, Sir. I grew up there, but my mother moved to London for work before I began my 1st year at hogwarts."

"Ah, I see. What does your mother do?" He questions curiously, straightening his glasses. Phoebe chews on the inside of her lip nervously and says slowly, "Well, she's a liaison between the Veela and the ministry. Kind of an advocate I suppose."

Mr. Potter nods appreciatively, eyebrows raised.

"Are you planning to follow in her footsteps?" Mia Potter asks kindly. Sirius and James both look at Phoebe, curious as well. Phoebe flushes a little and shakes her head quickly.

"No, I'm not exactly right for that job. I'm leaning more towards magizoology." She says quietly.

Mr. Potter grins and nods. "Lovely," He says warmly. "I happen to know Mr. Scamander."

Phoebe perks up at this, eyes widening. Sirius mutters, "Here we go."

"You know Mr. Scamander?! Newt Scamander?!" Phoebe asks eagerly, sitting up straighter in her chair. Sirius rolls his eyes and meets James' confused gaze.

"She has a crush on the bloke," He explains to his best mate, making James laugh.

"I do not have a crush on him!" Phoebe says indignantly. "I greatly admire his work. He's a pioneer for the field. You know this, Sirius."

"I do know this, because you've told me a million times!" Sirius points out. Phoebe ignores him and turns back the the adult Potters.

"Mr. Potter If you see him, please tell him he has a big fan at Hogwarts," Phoebe says excitedly. "Professor Kettleburn tried to get me a signed copy of Magical Beasts but was at St. Mungos during the book signing."

James smiles at the sight of the vibrant Veela, excitement and happiness practically streaming out of her. He couldn't recall seeing her like this. Perhaps he just hasn't been looking hard enough. His dad laughs and says, "Please, Phoebe. Call me Fleamont. If I see Newt, I'll be sure to tell him about his future colleague."

Phoebe was nearly shaking in her seat at the prospect of Newt Scamander possibly knowing who she was. She was confounded by the support of The Potters, especially since all she'd heard from her mother and grandmother is that she should do something more lady like.

Sirius says teasingly, "You look like you're going to piss yourself."

"Sod off,"

Sirius and Phoebe both turn to James Potter in surprise. He too looks shocked that the words have come from his mouth. He scrambles to cover up his outburst by saying quickly, "Don't say piss at my mother's table."

"You just did," Phoebe points out, a small grin on her face. James bites back his smile and narrows his eyes playfully, saying, "You're new here, Griffin so I'll let you in on a secret. I can say whatever I want at the table."

"Not true," Mia and Fleamont say in unison. Earning laughter from the three teenagers.

As soon as dinner is finished, the boys rush off and up the stairs, leaving Phoebe alone with Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Fleamont excuses himself to write a letter, sending a kind smile and a wink Phoebe's way.

The Veela grins and says quietly, "Mrs. Potter, can I help you clean up?"

"Oh, that's not necessary, darling," She replies easily, scooping dishes into her arms. Phoebe insists, "Please. My mother would kill me if she found out I didn't help."

Euphemia hesitates before nodding, observing the blonde as she stands and stacks dishes, following her to the kitchen.

Euphemia washes with magic, but explains as she hands Phoebe a towel, "The drying spell never quite works the way I like. I think James probably charmed the dishes so I had to do them by hand."

Phoebe smiles slightly at the mirth in the woman's voice. "James is your only son?" Phoebe asks curiously, wiping the dinner plate in her hands with the towel.

Euphemia nods, saying kindly, "Yes. We were quite old when we had him. We'd actually given up trying! And then the universe gave us James...and Sirius as well."

Phoebe chuckles a little, "Yes, I suppose you have two sons now."

Euphemia laughs heartily, taking the dry plate from the young girl's hands and placing it in the cupboard.

"Thank you...for taking care of him," Phoebe adds quietly, glancing up at the ceiling at the sound of the boys boisterous laughter.

Euphemia glances at the girl out of the corner of her eye, taken aback by the honesty and humbleness of the girl. The woman treads lightly when she says,

"Of course. He mentioned that the two of you have a lot in common."

Phoebe smiles wearily. "My mother would never say or do the things that Sirius' does. But she certainly has expects things of me based on blood. That is something that he and I definitely share."

Euphemia resists the urge to hug the young witch, instead taking another dry dish from her hands.

"You're an only child as well?" She asks. Phoebe hums and nods, glancing up at the woman.

"I have many cousins, but they live in France. I don't see them much, but I'm relatively close with a few." The Veela shrugs.

"Well," Euphemia starts, smiling cheekily. "I'm certainly glad you decided to join us, despite your interesting relationship with James."

Phoebe cracks a grin and sighs, "It's that obvious that we don't get along?"

Euphemia laughs, shaking her head, "Of course not. He mentioned that his pretty friend liked to bicker, but I know that my son enjoys pushing buttons. Fleamont and I were the same way."