Chapter 2: The Part that Comes After the Part Where We Started, and Long After the Part Where We Started Started
Dumbledore gazed at the child sitting in the small chair across from him. She bore no resemblance to her supposed father, though that was to be expected given her nature as a pseudo-homunculus. Artemis Flamel was the first artificial human. The first known artificial human, anyway.
She cocked her head at him, waiting for him to speak.
He cocked his head back. Curious. She was adventurous and curious in equal parts, if the Sorting Hat was to be believed. Dumbledore chuckled to himself. He was curious about her curiosity.
The girl was baffling, from an academic perspective. She displayed evidence of a personality, despite having to prior experiences to draw from in the formation of that personality. Artemis Flamel would flip the Nature Nurture debate on its head. But that wasn't why he had called her to his office.
Dumbledore noticed her leg beginning to bounce up and down, moving faster and faster as they continued to observe one another. She broke her gaze first, moving to look at the room and its many baubles. Her hand began to tap out a rhythm at her side. Perhaps she was bored. Perhaps she found him boring.
Dumbledore blanched at the thought. He knew it was the ultimate fate of the elderly, to slowly lose touch with the youth before retiring to their quaint little houses, where they would do old-people things for the rest of their lives. Like baking. And gardening. He smiled to himself. Perhaps old age wouldn't be so bad.
The promise of retirement. Of rest. It grew more tempting with every passing day. He would miss his adventuring days, but surely trading them for peaceful ones wouldn't be a mistake...
His focus returned to the girl in front of him.
No. He had responsibilities now. He made a promise. Multiple promises.
Rest was a luxury reserved for the fortunate.
Dumbledore took a breath. "We live in extraordinary times, Miss Flamel." He thought about the events of the past few weeks. Dark forces were stirring. Voldemort sought the philosopher's stone. Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts. Nicolas Flamel had passed in his sleep, and the two of them had accidentally created a living, breathing, person.
That made her his responsibility, didn't it?
"We live in extraordinary times, Miss Flamel. Though that aspect of life is, in and of itself, rather ordinary." Artemis blinked, before scrunching up her face in confusion.
Ah. He was speaking in riddles again.
It was a rather unfortunate habit, one that he had picked up after spending several years with the Oracle-Sphinx of Thebes. He shook his head, pulling himself out of his memories.
Dumbledore reached for a silver bowl, holding it out to her. "Sherbet lemon? They're a kind of muggle sweet that I'm particularly fond of." He picked up two candies, popping one into his mouth. "I first stumbled upon them after our Caretaker seized the contents of a Belching Briefcase as contraband. I may or may not have helped myself to a large number of the sweet inside."
He smiled, standing from his desk. He crossed the room, moving to greet a red and golden bird, regally perched in a corner. Dumbledore reached a hand up to the bird, offering the second candy. "I am told that sherbet lemons are not healthy for a phoenix."
The bird plucked the candy from Dumbledore's hand, throwing its head back and tossing it into the air before swallowing with a gulp. "I must confess," he moved back to his seat. "I've never understood how the term applies. A creature that does not know death would not distinguish between healthy and unhealthy foods."
He scratched the bird under its beak. "Fawkes enjoys them as much as I do, so I spoil him from time to time." The bird belched a gout of flame, ruffling his feathers.
"He's meant to do that."
Dumbledore turned, slightly abashed, before refocusing on the student before him. Back to business.
"You situation is not a common one, Artemis. Fortunately for us, I am quite familiar with the uncommon, and have taken the proper steps to ensure your stay at Hogwarts will be a comfortable one."
Artemis blinked. "Eh, thank you. Sir." She wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but was grateful nonetheless.
Dumbledore nodded. "The Sorting Hat tells me that you're developing a tendency for adventure."
"I suppose. But my experience in the field is rather lacking, professor."
He smiled. "I will not stop you from attempting to gain experience, then. I just have one request."
Dumbledore leaned forward, holding her attention in an iron-clad grip. "Under no circumstances should you enter the third-floor corridor on the right hand side. It presents an incredible danger to all who enter, even more so to you in particular."
Artemis frowned. "May I ask why, Professor?"
Dumbledore smiled. "You may."
Artemis took a breath, but was cut off. "However, I will not answer. Not as of yet, anyway."
She pouted, looking crestfallen and suspicious in equal parts.
Dumbledore stood from his desk, moving to look at the many portraits at the back of the room. "There are many, Miss Flamel, who would attempt to use your... unique position in life for their own advantage. It would be best, I think, if you were to keep the nature of your existence a secret for the time being."
Artemis nodded. "I understand, Professor."
Dumbledore smiled. "Quite good. You'll find all the supplies you need for this year inside a trunk. The House Elves will be bringing it to your dormitory now. Sleep well, Artemis."
She stood, heading for the exit of the room. "Thank you, professor."
A/N: Thank you to the people that have read this story so far. Everything I've written up until now has been for my eyes only, so I'm both excited and incredibly nervous about publishing these. I'll admit to not liking the way this chapter turned out. It doesn't feel fun to me, but I also feel like it needed to happen if I want the story to work. I have no idea about the quality of my own work. To be quite honest, I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. I have no plan whatsoever. Hopefully it turns out well.