The Marauders: Year One | #Wattys2016

Honeydukes

Honeydukes

"Come in."

Professor McGonagall pushed open the great wood door to the Headmaster's office and stepped inside. Torches flickered all about the room, and Dumbledore sat behind his ornate desk, a roll of parchment in his hand, his feet up on a hassek that stood alongside, his stockinged feet warming by the fireplace. His large toe stuck out of the pair of socks, which were old and unevenly knit. He sat up a bit straighter, adjusting his glasses and dropping his feet to the floor as McGonagall entered the room. "Welcome, welcome," he murmured, putting down the parchment.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, walking across the room and setting herself into the chair before his desk. The crushed velvet was purple with silver swirls. Everything in Dumbledore's office was purple or silver or magenta or fire-ball orange, it seemed, including the large bird perched by the window. A phoenix named Fawkes, Dumbledore's prized pet, who tilted his head at McGonagall in recognition. "Fawkes looks lovely today."

"He does. His colors get remarkably more splendid so soon after a burning..." Dumbledore smiled fondly at the bird, "He burned just last Wednesday, you know."

McGonagall nodded, staring at the bird with a benign smile.

Dumbledore looked at her, "I'm sure you did not come up all those flights of stairs, bewitched or no, just to talk with me about my bird, did you, Minerva?"

"No, sir," McGonagall replied, "I didn't. I came to speak to you about James Potter."

"What of Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the desk and he placed his chin on the fists of his hands, listening intently. He seemed so young and childish when he sat this way, thought McGonagall, and it was odd for her, to see the Professor to whom she had looked up to all her life, look so young in spirit but old in body as he did then.

Minerva McGonagall took a deep breath. "Well, Professor -- er, Headmaster," it was still too easy to call him Professor, it seemed, "James came to me yesterday, after class, and asked me about becoming an animagus and what exactly the process of such was." She hesitated, "I'm worried that he may be thinking of practicing without supervision."

Dumbledore sat back and smoothed his beard against his lap. "I see. And you fear he may accidentally give himself a beaver tail or an ostrich neck or something of the sort, I presume?"

"Precisely," McGonagall replied.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers in thought. "I would keep an eye on the boy," he said, "But I would not worry myself too much on the matter just yet. Perhaps he was simply inquiring on the subject..."

"But, Headmaster --"

"Minerva, do not worry your head," Dumbledore cut her off, holding up a hand to politely silence her. "There are a great many purposes that one might ask about information such as James has done, and while a large portion of those purposes are of seedy nature, there are some which have a meaning of greater good and if my hunches are correct, then James's inquiries are of the latter. Until we have reason to feel concern, we shall not worry ourselves." He smiled, a twinkle of mystery in his eyes.

"What greater good could James Potter possibly be reaching for by asking me about becoming an Animagus?" McGonagall asked, confused.

"What greater good indeed," murmured Dumbledore. He took a deep breath. "Suffice to say, my dear Minerva, that the price of friendship is a cost few are willing to pay so grand a price as the boys of Gryffindor House. Keep an eye on James Potter, but perhaps not too close of one; and most importantly, do not fret on the topic. Please, let me show should there be further inquiries, but do not worry yourself about it. I am sure that any purposes James Potter has for asking you about animagi, it will be for a greater good."