𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟑.𝟏𝟐 - 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

 "Dumbledore? What does Dumbledore want to see you for?"

You marched down the corridor in the same direction that McGonagall had pointed you down, eager to get whatever this was over with and return to class. Harry insisted on following you, worry present in his piercing eyes.

Balling your fists at your sides, you only quickened your pace. "Let's see," you said. "My parents are Death Eaters, I'm engaged to the only son of a family of renowned pureblood supremacists, and I'm almost always in the presence of the boy whose destiny is to kill the Dark Lord. If I had to guess, I'm being expelled."

"Expelled?" Harry parroted, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Or questioned at the very least!" you backtracked. Your nerves had been on fire ever since you were approached in the library, your mind racing with the infinite possibilities. You'd never once been called into the Headmaster's office in your three years of attending Hogwarts. As far as you were concerned, the last time you had ever spoken to the old wizard was when you were both standing over Harry's body in the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore called you brave and strong then. You felt neither of those things now.

"Let me come up with you," Harry demanded, eyeing the end of the corridor where the statue of a winged gargoyle protected the only entrance to the Headmaster's Tower. Its stony gaze bore down into yours, making you feel tiny in comparison.

"She said I better go alone," you remembered, slowing your steps as you drew closer to the massive statue. "I don't want you to get in more trouble than it's worth."

"Right," Harry mumbled. "But-"

"No buts." You pointed your finger back the way you came. "Go back to class, tell the professor where I've gone so I don't get marked down. I'll come by the common room later and tell you what happened."

He studied you for a moment without saying a word.

"Harry!"

"Right, yeah, sorry. Leaving now."

He shot you one last look before turning back down the corridor, your instructions still fresh in his mind. You watched him go, making sure he didn't try and sneak up the guarded stairway behind you. After Harry disappeared around a sharp corner, you regretted sending him away. Now it was just you and the gargoyle and the endless possibilities hidden just behind it.

Gulping, you stepped up onto the raised platform and whispered the password that McGonagall had given you. The stone began to shift and the rounded platform spun, sealing you in and revealing the passageway that led to the very top of the pointed tower.

With every trembling step you took, you advanced deeper into the warm light that flooded down from the landing near the top of the stairs. A red-tinted wooden door stood tall and wide in front of you as you stepped up onto the landing. Behind it, the soft hum of instrumental music could barely be heard.

"Hello?" You called out, pushing open the door and stepping inside. Had McGonagall been mistaken? It seemed like no one was there at all.

The entire room was the shape of a wide oval with tall marble bookshelves that wrapped around the length of the room. An assortment of glittering objects lined the short shelves on either side of a long mahogany desk, but there was no one seated there either.

"Is anyone—" the words got lost in your throat as you stumbled backward. A blazing red and gold creature was perched on a brass roosting pole, just behind the massive empty desk. Its delicate-looking wings flapped idly in recognition as if it too was noticing you for the first time. You knew right away that you were in the presence of a phoenix.

"Oh, you're beautiful," you sighed, reaching out to hook your finger and drag the back of your hand against the bird's neck. It was warm to the touch. The phoenix cooed, accepting your gesture of affection and making a soft sound akin to embers puffing and crackling in the fire.

"Is he not?"

You drew your hand back at the sound of the new voice. Standing beside the door with his hands gently folded was Professor Dumbledore. He smiled down at you, eyes twinkling. It was the first time you had seen him since the welcoming feast, you realized.

"Professor," you greeted, stepping back against the wall. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have intruded."

"Nonsense. I was the one who called you here after all."

You watched with your shoes frozen to the floor as the Headmaster crossed the room and took a seat behind the proud mahogany desk. "You're not in any trouble, Ms. Firethorn. Please, sit."

Not wanting to embarrass yourself any further, you obeyed and sat down in one of the threadbare, overstuffed lounge seats that were positioned right across from him. "If I may ask, sir," you said. "Why is it you've called me out of class?"

"Professor McGonagall has made me aware of an incident that occurred earlier this month involving you and a certain cursed item."

You gulped. "Yes, sir."

"I wanted to see for myself that you were of suitable health."

It was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you exhaled in relief. Of course, you weren't going to be expelled. How could you have ever jumped to that?

"I'm doing just fine, thank you," you nodded, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. You felt a little silly for anticipating your own expulsion.

"Excellent," Dumbledore hummed. He leaned back in his throne-like chair, hands clutching at the claw-foot armrests. The phoenix chirped blithely on its perch and somewhere, a warped record was spitting out the last few chords of an unfamiliar song. "It is, however, a right shame that you should choose not to speak the truth."

You blinked. "I'm...I'm sorry, sir?"

"I take great pride in knowing all of my students on a personal level," he droned, leaning back even further in his seat. "Especially the ones who have something to hide."

"I can assure you, sir, that I am not one of those students."

"Really? Hmm."

Regret washed over you. Speaking with Dumbledore was like taking a lie-detector test. A test you were sure to fail.

"Then explain to me, Ms. Firethorn, the significance of that ring you once wore so loyally around your neck."

Without meaning to, you reached up to the spot along your collar where the offending piece of jewelry once sat. The space was vacant now but you still felt the ghost of the copper band in its place. "An heirloom," you explained timidly.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "Of the Malfoy family, if I am not mistaken. Young Narcissa Black once wore that very ring around her throat in her fifth year prior to her announced engagement to a Mr. Lucius Malfoy."

"Sir?"

"I understand your situation much more than you, my dear. Know this, and be on your way."

At a total loss for words, you shakily rose to your feet. Dumbledore offered you a slow nod of acknowledgment before opening a large, dusty book on his desk. He diverted his attention to the text as you moved toward the red door.

Right as you were about to pass into the stairwell, he spoke for the very last time and made you halt your steps. "And do feel welcome to come back and visit. Fawkes has an affinity for troubled youth."

(A/N: So my Harry Potter obsession is resurfacing and I don't know how to feel about it. On one hand, I'm publishing HP content again. On the other hand, this will definitely control my life for the next few weeks. Who's to say! Catch any mistakes and feel free to comment corrections!)