The Raven's Call

New Bonds

Saturday, 7th of September, 1996

The air in Dumbledore's office always feels different—like it carries the weight of countless conversations, decisions, and secrets. It smells of old parchment, polished wood, and something faintly sweet, like sherbet lemons. The glow of the many trinkets and devices scattered around casts shifting patterns on the walls, making the whole place seem alive. I can't help but feel small here, standing before the Headmaster's desk, waiting to hear what exactly he's called me for.

Dumbledore sits with his usual calm, hands folded atop his desk. His blue eyes twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles, but there's something more behind them today. A thoughtfulness. A decision already made.

"Ah, Atticus," he says warmly. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Of course, sir," I reply. My voice is steady, though curiosity buzzes under my skin. It's not every day one gets summoned by the greatest wizard of our time.

Dumbledore gestures to the perch beside him, where a magnificent bird sits, feathers glowing with embers of red and gold. Fawkes. I've known him since my second year, when he swooped into the Chamber of Secrets and saved us all. I owe him more than I can say, and seeing him now brings back memories of that desperate escape, his song lifting us out of the darkness. Fawkes regards me with intelligent, ancient eyes, tilting his head as if he's already sizing me up.

"I imagine you are wondering why I have called you here," Dumbledore continues, reaching out to stroke Fawkes's head. The phoenix trills softly under his touch, a sound both soothing and deeply powerful. "I find myself in need of some assistance."

My brow furrows. "With Fawkes?"

"Indeed," he says, nodding. "I will be traveling often in the coming months—matters of great importance require my attention beyond the castle. Unfortunately, I cannot always ensure that Fawkes will have the company he deserves."

I blink. "You want me to look after him?"

"Precisely."

I stare at the Headmaster, certain I've misheard him. Me? Taking care of a phoenix? Fawkes, of all creatures?

"Sir, are you sure?" I ask cautiously. "Wouldn't Professor McGonagall, or even Hagrid, be better suited?"

Dumbledore chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Both are quite capable, yes. However, I believe Fawkes has taken a liking to you. He is quite particular about those he trusts."

As if to emphasize the point, Fawkes hops down from his perch and lands gracefully on my shoulder. His claws press lightly against my robe, warm but not painful. I barely breathe as he lowers his head, feathers brushing against my cheek. A strange sensation washes over me—comfort, reassurance. Like he's saying it's alright. Like he's choosing me, too.

Dumbledore watches with quiet satisfaction. "You see? He has made his decision."

I lift a hand hesitantly, allowing my fingers to skim across the smooth, fiery feathers. Fawkes lets out another soft trill, pressing into the touch. I exhale, tension I didn't even realize I had melting away.

"I won't let him down," I promise, meeting Dumbledore's gaze.

"I know you won't," he says simply, with the kind of certainty that makes me believe it, too.

There's a moment of silence, the kind that lingers when something more is waiting to be said. Dumbledore studies me for a long moment, then, with a small, knowing smile, he speaks again.

"And how is Alexander?"

The question catches me off guard. "Alexander?"

"Yes," he says lightly, tapping his fingers together. "I have observed that the two of you are quite close. A bond forged in both companionship and understanding. A rare thing, don't you think?"

I shift slightly, feeling warmth rise to my face. "He's... he's doing well," I answer carefully. "He's brilliant, honestly. One of the best people I know."

Dumbledore's smile deepens. "Ah, how wonderful it is to have someone who understands you. I had wondered if perhaps there was something more between you."

I blink, then shake my head with a small laugh. "No, sir. Alex's like a brother to me. I've been dating Luna Lovegood since my fourth year."

Dumbledore's expression remains amused, but there's a hint of satisfaction in his nod. "Ah, I see. Luna is a remarkable young witch. You are quite fortunate."

"I think so too," I say, smiling at the thought of her.

Dumbledore lets the words settle before turning his attention back to Fawkes. "Well, then, I shall leave him in your capable hands. I trust you and Fawkes will take good care of each other."