Chapter 20 – Bird Perspective

(Fawkes POV)

Fawkes shifted uncomfortably on his perch. The feathers on his back were itching, and the worst spot was just in that very place in the middle which he could not reach with either claws or beak.

His feathers always itched when Fawkes started to feel old. He had been a beautiful, crimson-feathered phoenix just a few days earlier, but Fawkes still felt worn out after the battle with that basilisk. He would soon start to age visibly and approach yet another Burning Day. And even though he was by now used to the process, that did not mean Fawkes the phoenix had to like burning.

Furthermore, his favorite human had disregarded him all day. Fawkes felt bored, and he craved attention. So what if Albus Dumbledore had spent half of the afternoon discussing something with a rather tetchy Potions Master - could he not spend some time with his familiar afterwards?

The big bird clicked his beak and stretched his wings. Dumbledore looked up from his work and smiled.

"What is it, Fawkes?" he inquired.

Fawkes again clicked his tongue against his beak, louder this time, and bowed his head. The wizard obediently got up from his seat and started to pet Fawkes.

"You like that, don't you?" he smiled.

Fawked cocked his head to one side and growled softly. He loved that old man, but would never really understand why so many people considered him extraordinarily wise. How could a man be wise if he asked idiotic questions like that?

Nevertheless, Fawkes enjoyed being scratched and petted. He yawned widely, fluffed his feathers out, and made a cooing noise to show how much he appreciated these ministrations.

"You could sit like that forever, hm?" Dumbledore observed.

Fawkes chirped happily.

"I am truly sorry, old friend," the old wizard apologised. "I do not have much time for you this afternoon. Minerva will be here any minute, I have just sent her a note through the floo."

The bird chirped again. A visit by the Deputy Headmistress was alright with him. At least she was a far more pleasant person than that sour Potions Master, even if the lady always smelled vaguely of cat hair.

He stretched his right wing, so that Dumbledore could more easily access the feathers on his side. Fawkes enjoyed all the attention. He had been sitting all quiet for a long time, sensing that Dumbledore would not have wanted any interruption during his talk with Snape.

It had been a strange discussion. At some point, Fawkes had fallen asleep because it had, from his perspective, been absurdly monotonous. Why was it that humans always discussed things by debating the same topic over and over again, constantly saying the same even if they used different words? They had kept going on about subjects like friendship, companionship, and saying farewell; and the whole time the atmosphere had been quite depressing.

But in the end Fawkes had woken up from his dozing, because Snape had admitted something in a very angry voice. And Dumbledore had sighed sadly, and reluctantly agreed with the Potions Master. But Fawkes had seen that certain boyish glint in his eyes, and he was quite certain that his favorite wizard had only pretended to give in to whatever Snape had requested.

Fawkes's head shot up when he heard footsteps on the spiral staircase which led to the office. Seconds later, the door swung open and the Deputy Headmistress entered the circular room. Dumbledore offered her a chair with a casual wave of his right hand, and Fawkes fanned his golden tail feathers out to greet her.

This truly was a strange day. Even Professor McGonagall did not look at Fawkes. Usually she would greet him back by petting him, or giving him an owl treat (on rare occasions, even a piece of chicken bone), but today she just sat down and looked at Dumbledore. Fawkes crowed a loud protest, but only once. He sensed that this would become another important conversation.

"You wished to speak to me, Albus?"

"Oh yes, thank you for coming so quickly. I do hope it is not inconvenient. I just would like to ask you to have a look at the job advertisements I drafted for the Daily Prophet. I simply cannot seem to find the right words."

"Why is that? – You've been doing this for years."

"Exactly," Dumbledore explained, stressing his point with elaborate gestures. "And every year it gets harder to find an instructor willing to take on the position for Defence Against the Dark Arts. People are afraid of that jinx. I feel we need to make the job sound… more attractive."

"Oh, all right," she sighed, "show me what you've written."

Fawkes studied Minerva McGonagall closely. She looked tired, and a little stressed out. Maybe this had to do with the talk Snape and Dumbledore had just had?

Just before dozing off, Fawkes had heard her name mentioned when the two men had discussed their issues earlier; and now, come to think of it… ever since the Great Feast the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor had acted in a peculiar manner.

Whenever Fawkes had seen them together, they had acted overly polite and friendly; like two persons who were at serious odds with each other, but unwilling to quarrel openly. This in itself was already a rather curious development, usually they almost seemed to enjoy their constant verbal skirmishes.

Fawkes cocked his head to one side and watched Dumbledore hand two parchments to his Deputy.

"Here they are. Do you think we should advertise in the Quibbler as well?" he asked.

McGonagall shook her head.

"No, of course not," she answered automatically while a small crease on her forehead indicated that she was thinking about something else. She looked at the parchments without bothering to read them.

"Did you say two job advertisements?" she then asked, stressing the plural.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"But who…? Of course we need to replace Lockhart, and Konrad is retiring. But I thought we had decided that Hagrid would become the new Professor for Care of Magical Creatures? Has he changed his mind?"

"Oh no, he is quite keen on the job," Albus answered quietly. "We will also need a new Potions Master."

There was a sudden and complete change of mood in the office. Fawkes watched the Deputy Headmistress closely. She usually did not show her feelings, but now her expression changed visibly. Her eyes widened just a little bit, the thin line of her mouth became slightly thinner, and her lips grew pale.

"Severus?" she asked in astonishment. "Severus wants to leave?"

"I am afraid so."

"But why… where to… he doesn't have anywhere to go!"

"Apparently he does not feel much concerned about that."

"You can't just let him go," she argued frantically. "What if you ever need him again? You've always said that this war is not really over, and that You-Know-Who will return someday… think about what has happened in the last two years!"

"I don't need Severus here at school to rely on him. It's convenient to have him close by, but his presence at Hogwarts is not mandatory. Not any more."

"I don't understand…"

Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair, with the air of someone who felt sad and confused but did not want to show it. Dumbledore put his quill and paper away and rose from his chair. He walked to the window and looked outside.

Obviously he thought it more polite not to observe his friend too closely. Fawkes decided that etiquette did not demand the same of him.

"Why does he want to leave?" she asked after a few moments, speaking in a very controlled manner.

Dumbledore turned back around.

"Personal reasons," he explained in a very sombre voice.

Too sombre, in fact. Fawkes saw the old wizard smile at him for just one instant, and he blinked back. He had not yet quite understood what was going on, but apparently Dumbledore was enjoying his little game.

"And did he, by any chance, tell you what kind of personal reasons?"

"That he did," the Headmaster said kindly. "Although it took me more than one hour to make him speak. I almost had to threaten the combined use of a full body bind and Legilimency before he confessed. Oh, and I might have mentioned Veritaserum. Naturally, I would never have used that, but..."

Dumbledore smirked, as though the absurdity of that threat was enough to amuse oneself mightily, and all afternoon long. McGonagall glared at him.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

Her voice was angry, but Fawkes saw that she was also wringing her hands in a helpless manner. The bird considered flying to her and offering some comfort, but then decided against it. She was not yet ready to accept a kind move, and he did not want someone that excited to ruffle through his feathers.

"I do not think that Severus would want me to repeat his words," Dumbledore said apologetically. "As a matter of fact he made me promise not to tell you. Or anyone else. But, I am afraid, especially you."

Again, he looked at Fawkes as though the phoenix was his accomplice, and once more Fawkes saw that twinkle in his blue eyes.

"So," the Headmaster continued brightly, "what do you think of my adverts?"

Fawkes had an excellent sense of hearing, but he was not fluent in Gaelic. Maybe this was for the better, because the response Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath sounded like a particularly insulting expletive.

The phoenix was almost impressed. He had not known that the well-mannered Transfiguration Professor was capable of such language. Dumbledore appeared to be less surprised, and Fawkes suspected that he had both heard and understood what she had called him.

"You know, Minerva, I think if you asked him, he might tell you," Dumbledore said seriously.

"We haven't really been on speaking terms lately," she replied stiffly.

"Haven't you? – Oh dear, I am growing old," the old wizard sighed. "I had received the false impression that the two of you have not quarreled even once since I returned to Hogwarts. In fact, I thought your demeanour was extraordinarily cordial."

"I don't want to speak about it," McGonagall said in an unusually rude manner.

"That is perfectly alright, my dear girl. So, about my adverts –"

"Don't call me girl!"

Dumbledore sat down again, and Fawkes saw that he now did not even attempt to hide his smile any more. Fawkes whistled loudly. This was really getting interesting. Sometimes humans were rather funny to watch.

"Forgive me, Minerva. You have been telling me that for – oh, I should say at least fifty years."

"Then maybe it's about time that you listened to me," she snapped.

"Oh, I could not possibly. Not now, when you act like an stubborn fifth-year."

Fawkes cackled and swished his tail feathers from one side to the other. This was great entertainment. Something about Minerva McGonagall had always made him think of a cat, and now he almost saw fur bristling with electricity and a bushy tail.

"A. Stubborn. Fifth. Year," she repeated incredulously. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, what are you talking about?"

"Minerva… I said Severus had personal reasons to leave Hogwarts. Now what could be so personal? Lass, you don't need my advice to tell you what is going on. You know."

"No, I don't know."

This time, her voice was more sad than angry.

And this time, Fawkes did fly to her and sat down on the armrest of her chair. Absent-mindedly, she started to stroke him and he cooed softly. For a second, he considered preening her hair with his beak, but then decided against it. Most of the children liked that way of showing affection, but with the Deputy Headmistress it might not be a good idea to mess up her hair.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Dumbledore asked, gently, although there still was a fair amount of amused chuckling. "This is about… about one person only. One member of the Hogwarts staff, and Severus thinks that he cannot any more bear to see that person every day."

Fawkes studied her face, and he noticed something like a weak flicker of hope while she tried to figure out what Dumbledore could have implied. And then there was sadness again.

"I still don't understand it," she said quietly. "Lockhart is at St Mungo's, and will stay there for a while. He could not possibly annoy Severus any more."

Fawkes considered scratching her arm – just in a very gentle manner, but to let her know that she was being stupid. Even he had by now understood what his favorite wizard meant to say, and he was by far no expert on humans.

"Minerva, look at me."

"What?"

"I am certain you are quite aware of the fact that I do not want Severus to leave this school."

"Mm."

"But I have found no way to hold him back."

"So you've told me."

"I should like you to go and speak to him about that matter. Just keep in mind that... what you already know about him."

Still there was that puzzled expression on her face. Fawkes shook his head. Wizards and witches truly did have strange ways of communicating.

"Severus thinks himself unworthy of friendship, and yet you became his friend," Dumbledore explained, choosing his words very carefully. "He is unable to imagine that anyone would care about him. In his world-view, there is not one being out there capable of loving him back."

Dumbledore smiled dreamily for another five seconds, but then he leant forward in a very business-like manner and took the two parchments that he had earlier given to his Deputy.

"So you think those advertisements are alright?"

"Oh. Yes, perfectly alright," McGongall replied mechanically. She had not even looked at them.

"Excellent. But I think it is too late for today, I will owl them to the Daily Prophet tomorrow."

The old wizard took an envelope out of a drawer and started to prepare the letter with slow and meticulous movements. McGonagall looked out of the window and bit her lower lip. Fawkes could see that she was thinking hard.

He nudged her with his head and she started stroking him again, but the phoenix could tell that she was not really interested in him. This time, his natural skill to convey solace was not needed.

Fawkes clicked his tongue and cocked his head from side to side. There had to be something else he could do…

"Ouch! – Good Merlin, Albus, Fawkes just bit me!"

The witch rubbed her left arm and glared at Fawkes, who tried to contrive being the picture of innocence. He fanned out his beautiful tail and tapped his feet on the armrest.

"Maybe he's trying to tell you something."

"Like what?"

"Like 'You're still here', for example," Dumbledore said seriously.

Fawkes chattered loudly and flapped his wings.

"Still here?"

"Yes. You are still here in this office – and it's certainly not that I do not enjoy your company," Dumbledore went on, "But you really ought to be speaking to someone else."

"Oh. Yes. Of course."

Professor McGonagall got up from her seat and straightened out her robes. Fawkes flew to Dumbledore and sat down on his desk.

The tall witch turned around and went to the door, where she paused again. Once more she looked at Dumbledore, as though she was trying to figure out whether she had really understood everything correctly.

The old wizard put his quill aside and looked up, smiling broadly.

"Green suits you, Minerva," he said warmly. "You do look very beautiful tonight. Now would you please go and speak to our Potions Master? I truly hope he will decide to stay here."

There was a nervous smile on Professor McGonagall's face, but she nodded and left the office. Dumbledore leant forward and scratched Fawkes's back, and he immediately found just in that very favorite spot where the phoenix liked it best.

"Well done, Fawkes," he declared. "Well done. I believe our assistance will not be required any further. What do you think about visiting Aberforth? I am quite certain he will have one or two chicken legs for you."

Fawkes whistled happily and flew to sit on Dumbledore's shoulder. This would after all become a nice evening.