The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Partners

{{I think you guys are gonna like this one}}

"Please," James begs, tugging on Phoebe's arm.

She rolls her eyes, scolding, "James, no!"

"You're my fiancé. And fiancé's are supposed to help each other," James argues, scowling playfully as Phoebe sighs and shakes her head, insisting, "I will not help you prank Kreacher!"

James and Phoebe both jump when the house elf appears with a resounding 'crack.' He stares up at Phoebe with wide eyes, asking croakily, "Does Miss Phoebe want some tea? Kreacher is happy to help."

Phoebe smiles warmly as James scoffs, Kreacher turning his beady eyes on James and hissing, "Blood traitor. In mistresses house."

"Kreacher," Phoebe warns, laying a gently hand on the elf's shoulder. James just crossed his arms and scowls as she kneels and says kindly, "I would love some tea, if you don't mind."

"Kreacher serves Miss Phoebe. Miss Phoebe is a being like Kreacher," He crows proudly, nodding once and then hurrying out of the drawing room. Phoebe grins up as James sighs disgruntled young, opening his mouth to argue some more. Instead he's cut off.

"Oh good, you're both here,"

James jumps in surprise, quickly reaching out grabbing Phoebe's arm as she shrieks at the sudden voice. They both spin around, James grunting at the sight of Dumbledore, "Merlin, you could knock."

"Yes, I suppose I should. I've heard the things that go on behind closed doors around here," Their old headmaster's words are blunt, his eyes twinkling with amusement as Phoebe flushes pink. James snickers, earning a glare and a pinch to the side from the Veela.

"Did you need something, Albus?"

It's James' turn to look at Phoebe like she's gone mad, addressing him as Albus. She just furrows her brow at James before facing the old wizard.

Dumbledore smiles and says, "Yes, Phoebe. I was hoping I could interest you and Mr. Potter in investigating something for me. Today."

Phoebe's grey eyes light up with excitement. A mission. Another chance to do something good. She glances up at James, seeing him look equally excited. It had been some time for both of them, and they hadn't realized how badly they wanted to do something until they were presented with the option.

James asks cautiously, "What are we investigating? Should we be prepared for a fight?"

Dumbledore chuckles quietly at the question before answering, "I don't believe you will find a fight where you're going, Mr. Potter. However, best to treat it as if you will. Alastor, Minerva, and I believe it to be an abandoned camp. One in the Hebrides Islands. There were once plans to place a prison there, and I believe death eaters were in the region for sometime. For what I'm not sure."

He turns to Phoebe, warning, "While the MacCusty clan tends to them in some parts of the island, you must be vigilant and aware that there are the Hebridean Black. I trust you know what to do in case of an interaction with such a creature?"

Phoebe nods eagerly, eyes widening. A Hebridean Black. She'd kill to see one in the wild. She might just get the chance. She smiles slightly, wondering if she can find any broken shells for Charlie. She'd have to wait and see.

James glances down at her for confirmation, smiling slightly at the tiny nod she gives him before he looks at the older wizard and replies, "We're in."

Dumbledore nods, pulling a pice of cloth from his robes. Phoebe peers at the object as he unwraps it, wrinkling her nose at the sight.

"A marble?"

Dumbledore looks at her knowingly before responding, "Unfortunately i've run out of gold coins. They make good portkeys, don't they Miss Griffin?"

She feels the air leave her lungs as she looks at his wise face. He knew. He knew that she'd turned her coin from Regulus into a portkey. And that same portkey took her to him, a death eater. She's not sure what she expects. James' hand slides to her back, supporting her. In all ways, he supported her. They both wait for Dumbledore to ridicule them or kick them out of the order. James even wonders if they'll be arrested. Instead the wizard just smiles and extends the cloth with the marble, saying simply,

"This will not return you to Grimmauld Place, so you must apparate. If there is danger, danger that won't allow you to leave fast enough, then head north to Portree."

James and Phoebe nod, locking eyes with each other. She hesitates, asking him quietly, "Are you sure?" James grins and nods, retorting, "Of course I'm sure. Don't be a chicken, Griffin."

Her eyes narrow at his cheeky words and she sighs, grabbing onto his hand before they both reach for the port key, instantly sucked into the air. Phoebe closes her eyes, finding that while portkeys were easier on her, they still made her ill. That much was clear when she begins retching as soon as they land.

James holds onto her, quickly assessing their surroundings as she forces herself to be quiet as she pukes. She spits, shuddering once before standing upright. James looks at her with concern, eyes flitting over her face before he asks lowly,

"Good?"

Phoebe nods, grasping his hand. It's dark, the light of the crescent moon their only guide. They refrain from using lumps, the light to obvious in the great ravine they were in. Phoebe looks down at the tall grasses that reach her knees, the cool air whipping them back and forth. James squeezes her hand and whispers,

"Look. Just ahead."

Phoebe peers in the direction he's looking, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Up the side of the ravine, carved into the cliff is a familiar symbol. A skull with a snake coiling from it's mouth. She feels ill again. Voldemort and his followers were brazen, unabashed. They had no need for discretion here, their mark stamped into nature. Her eyes drift down where there's a mess of wood and stone. Ruins.

She and James begin to move forward, listening carefully as they go. When they reach a smaller crest, James grabs her waist and lifts her, smiling slightly when she turns and reaches down to offer a hand. He grasps it and scrambles up after her, the two of them mostly obscured by the yellowing grass.

They move closer, keeping their voices low and their breathing even. When they finally make it to crumbling stone that still resembles a house, Phoebe whispers,

"Let me go first."

James frowns, going to vehemently say no, when she quickly argues,

"If something bad happens then you'll have my back. Better you than me, Potter."

He weighs the options carefully. If he went first, something or someone might come up on her from behind. He sighs before nodding his head and following her inside the leaning structure.

Phoebe looks around slowly, wand outstretched. Just in case. She can feel James just behind her, his hand reaching forward to gently touch her shoulder every time they turn a corner, reminding her that he has her back.

Something creaks in the hall they've just left and James whirls around, wand flying up. Phoebe realizes who it is just in time, quickly reaching up and grabbing James arm. James shrugs her off, wand raised and eyes narrowed. But no one moves, not James. Not Phoebe.

Not the boy with grey eyes.

"Regulus," Phoebe breathes, her wide eyes locked on his.

He's alive.