Phoenix Song
WARNING: This story contains strong language and strong situations. If you are under the legal age of consent for your state, province, territory, or country, or if scenes of violence and strong language offend you, turn back now!
LAWYERS NOTE: I do not own the Harry Potter characters, only my own. If one or all of the characters desire to return to J.K. Rowling's universe, they are welcome to do so at any time.
THREE
A stunned silence followed McGonagall's revelation. Aidan felt his heart sieze within him; if he was not a wizard, then what was he? Angie had seemed so certain that he was that Aidan hadn't even considered that he might not be, yet McGonagall was equally as certain that he wasn't. And, after all, he had not received any owls on his eleventh birthday, like all of the other wizard children, so it seemed as if McGonagall knew the truth of what he was.
Minister Weasley looked positively flummoxed. He stared at McGonagall incredulously for a moment, and she returned his gaze imperiously. Finally the Minister found his voice.
"What do you mean, he's not a wizard?" he asked. "He performed the Incendiary Enchantment, didn't he?"
"What do you want, Percy?" the Headmistress exploded, standing up. "Would you like me to admit that Hogwarts made a mistake, that we let a student slip through the cracks? Well, I won't do it. In one thousand years, we have never yet failed to identify a wizard child, no matter where they were located or what their circumstances were."
"If he's not a wizard, then what is he?" the Minister demanded, also standing and leaning across his desk, the color of his face beginning to match that of his hair as he raised his voice to match McGonagall's.
Aidan leaned forward expectantly.
"I don't know," the Headmistress replied softly, glancing sympathetically at Aidan and sinking back into her chair. Aidan, too, sagged back into his chair, disappointed; he had so hoped that she had all the answers. "I know only that our means of identifying a witch or wizard child have always been reliable."
"Until now," the Minister agreed, sighing. He removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Whatever he is, he's clearly in possession of magical abilities, Minerva. He needs to be educated."
"I agree," the Headmistress replied.
"Good. Then he is your responsibility," Weasley said with a note of finality, replacing his glasses. "See to it that he receives a proper wizarding education."
"I need hardly remind you, Minister, that the term is nearly over."
"Then he can use the summer holiday to catch up with his peers," the Minister snapped, "under your expert tutelage. Equal education for all wizard children, right, Minerva?"
McGonagall stiffened in her seat but merely said, "Very well."
The Minister turned his attention to Aidan. "And remember, you are not to use magic outside of your schooling until you come of age, and even then, you may not use it in front of Muggles. Do you understand?"
Aidan nodded mutely. Neither the Minister nor the Headmistress seemed to like each other very much, but they had just agreed on a course of action that sounded like it would keep him away from Arshield Close for at least a year, and he didn't want to say something that might cause them to change their minds.
"Good," said the Minister, brightening considerably as Aidan and the Headmistress stood. "Thank you, Minerva. I want one more word with Aidan."
The Headmistress nodded curtly. "I shall wait in the other room." She nodded again. "Minister." With a swish of her long robes, she had gone.
"Don't let her know I said this," the Minister said in an undertone, watching her go, "but she's not as bad as she seems. We may not always agree, but she has the best interests of the students in mind, always."
"You didn't keep me just to tell me that," Aidan said nervously.
"No," the Minister said, shaking his head and looking earnestly at Aidan. "It's likely you'll be away from your family for at least year, although students are allowed to return home during the holidays. I don't need to tell you, I think, that you've got two years of catching up to do in the space of one summer. Do you think you can handle it?"
Aidan nodded. "I don't mind."
"Good. Then you need only inform your guardians of your planned extended absence."
"I don't think they'll mind, either," Aidan said softly, remembering the look of hatred on Morgan's face and Elisa's ready acceptance of her husband's story.
Minister Weasley frowned. "You needn't worry about the attack on your adoptive father, Aidan, I'm sure it was quite unintentional, particularly since you've never been properly instructed in the use of your gifts. Their memories have been modified; they won't remember."
Aidan felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders; he nearly collapsed at its sudden departure. "What about the police?"
"When they arrived, they found that Mr. Sears had scalded himself while cooking," the Minister said mildly. "Nothing more. They were a bit put out, I'm afraid, but there was no lasting harm done."
Relief flooded through Aidan, causing him to feel light-headed and giddy. He suddenly realized he was ravenous, having eaten nothing since his party the previous day. "Thank you," he whispered.
Minister Weasley smiled. "A small matter, to be sure. I wish I had more of them. At any rate, you can go home without fear of reprisal. Just don't let it happen again."
Go home without fear? Aidan thought. No, he could never do that, not so long as Morgan was still there, but at least Elisa wouldn't think he was a maniac anymore. He left the Minister's office feeling a curious mixture of happiness and sorrow. McGonagall and Angie were waiting for him.
"You look a bit peaked," the Headmistress observed. "When was the last time you ate?"
Angie clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I completely forgot--you haven't had breakfast! I'm so sorry," she said fervently to Aidan.
"It's all right," Aidan said. "I wasn't exactly hungry before."
McGonagall looked at Angie sternly. "Still, you might have asked," she scolded. "Even the Minister can wait for thirty minutes while the boy has a decent breakfast. Come along," she said to Aidan. "There's a commissary on the lobby level."
"I'll come with you," Angie said swiftly. "To the next level," she amended, seeing the steely glint in the eyes of the Headmistress. "I've--got to report in anyway."
They took the lift down to the second level, where Angie said a hasty good-bye. Aidan, although he felt more relaxed than he had been in the past twenty-four hours, was nonetheless uncertain about spending the next two months with the stern Headmistress, no matter what reassurances the Minister of Magic might give. McGonagall was like the formidable grandmother he never had, and he was afraid to ask what she had in mind for him, lest she snap at him, too.
The lift let them off at the lobby level, and Aidan was hard pressed to keep up with McGonagall as she strode across the small hallway toward two doors on the wall opposite the one he and Angie had entered earlier in the day. Through one door, Aidan saw a glimpse of a long hallway, with fireplaces staggered at intervals on two walls, and a golden fountain spouting water in the distance. McGonagall took the second doorway, which led them down an even smaller hallway and into a large room, rather like a medieval banquet hall, with tall windows high up on the far wall allowing slanting shafts of sunlight to filter down onto the many polished wooden tables and accompanying benches arranged in three rows on the marble floor. Another enormous, exquisitely-wrought golden chandelier was suspended from the arched ceiling over the exact center of the room, and the ceiling itself seemed to fade in and out of existence as they walked, changing to resemble the sky outside, bright blue with the occasional puffy cloud scudding by overhead. Aidan was distracted from marveling at it all by the smell of food wafting to his nostrils, causing his stomach to rumble insistently.
"Take a plate," McGonagall instructed him, pointing to a marble sculpture on one the nearby wall, which had been carved in the likeness of a beautiful woman with flowing hair and gown. In its outstretched arms was a golden plate, on which a fork, a knife, and crystal goblet and a glossy purple napkin had been neatly arranged. Aidan saw that there were several such sculptures scattered down the length of the wall, each carved in a different likeness (one reminded him strongly of Master Yoda), but all with outstretched hands on which a golden plate rested.
Aidan approached the statue of the woman, who looked so lifelike as she smiled benignly down at him, that he hesitated for a moment before taking the plate, nearly spilling its contents as another, identical plate immediately appeared in its place. McGonagall took this one and led him to the closest table, which was unoccupied. Aidan sat on the hard wooden bench and she sat across from him, placing her goblet and implements on the table and draping her napkin across her lap. Aidan did the same, looking around expectantly for a waiter or waitress, but there seemed to be none, only a few other witches and wizards eating and talking quietly or sipping coffee while reading a newspaper. He turned back to McGonagall, nonplussed.
"You may order anything you like for breakfast," she told him, "just speak slowly and clearly."
Aidan stared at her blankly. Speak slowly and clearly to whom?
"Come, now," she said, a touch of impatience in her voice. "What do you usually have for breakfast?"
"Um, cereal and milk?" Quite suddenly, a bowl of what appeared to be corn flakes materialized on the table, accompanied by a tall glass pitcher of milk. Aidan blinked. Plates and goblets, and now food--how many things just magically appeared on a whim in the wizarding world, anyway?
"Coffee," McGongall said to her plate, "black." A steaming mug of coffee appeared. "I've already eaten," she told him, clasping the mug in both hands, "but I daresay I'll need more of this before the day is through. Either this, or a tall brandy." She nodded at Aidan's cereal. "Eat."
Hesitantly, Aidan poured milk over his bowl of cereal and scooped some of it into his spoon, eyeing it dubiously. Did wizards eat something as mundane as corn flakes?
"It's not poison," McGonagall said impatiently.
Cautiously, Aidan swallowed the spoonful of cereal and found out that wizards did, indeed, eat something as ordinary as corn flakes; they must, for the corn flakes tasted just as corn flakes should, and, as near as Aidan could tell, possessed no magical qualities. He snorted, nearly choking on the cereal as he realized the absurdity of anticipating magical corn flakes, but he didn't really know what to expect, after all. The whole wizarding world was completely new to him.
"You should probably have some juice, too," McGonagall remarked, watching Aidan scarf down a second bowl of cereal after it had magically refilled itself, "just to round it out a bit." Obediently, orange juice bubbled up into Aidan's goblet. He took a long drink and sighed contentedly.
"Thanks."
McGonagall nodded briefly and sipped at her coffee. "After this, we will visit your home so that you can pack your clothes," she said. "And we will inform your guardians of your planned absence."
The contented feeling left as quickly as it had come. The last thing Aidan wanted to do was go back and face Morgan. "Must we?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench.
"Surely you didn't think we were going to whisk you away without letting your adoptive parents, who no doubt already miss you, know where you were going."
"I don't want to go back," Aidan said in a small voice, looking away.
McGonagall frowned. "Why not?"
Aidan opened his mouth to reply, but the same lump that had prevented him from admitting his shame to Elisa choked his voice now. Because I don't want to be anywhere near Morgan, he wanted to say, because he's a sick, perverted bastard who preys on his own adopted son. Say it! he urged himself, but the words would not come.
"Whatever difficulties you and your adoptive father may have," McGonagall said, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow, "I expect you will afford him at least a minimum of courtesy, which includes telling him where you plan to spend the next year of your life."
Aidan nodded reluctantly, anger and frustration seething inside of him. His magical side--he still had a hard time believing it--was a whole new aspect of himself, one which Morgan did not know about and consequently could not defile, as he had done to every other part of Aidan's life. He did not want Morgan to be a part of it, but the problem lay in expressing this; he could not bring himself to admit it underneath the Headmistress's iron stare. "Can we at least not bring magic into it?" he asked, almost begged, the Headmistress. "I don't think they could handle it."
"Very well," she replied. "Not everyone's parents can. We will simply inform them that you've been accepted at an elite boarding school; that is close enough to the truth without being overly specific."
Aidan relaxed a little. He was not looking forward to seeing Morgan again, but at least the man would not now be able to touch him or that one part of himself that was still whole.
McGonagall downed the last of her coffee and stood, placing a few odd-looking coins on her plate. "Finished," she announced, and their dishes vanished from the table. "Let's gather your things," she said briskly. "We still have a lot to do today."
It was with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that Aidan returned to number five, Arshield Close. The Minister had loaned them the same car and driver that had brought Aidan to the Ministry, and as they coasted to a silent stop outside the Sears house, Aidan felt a surge of panic. He would have stayed in the car had he been able, but McGonagall, who had, with a wave of her wand, changed her long robes into a black suit and skirt, gestured at him impatiently to get out, and he did so with a growing feeling of dread.
"It will be over with soon enough," she told him, smoothing her perfectly-pressed suit. "I'll do most of the talking while you pack." Together, they strode up the walk, McGonagall's heels clicking briskly against the pavement. Before she could ring the bell, the door swung open and Aidan found himself being crushed in Elisa's fierce embrace.
"There you are!" she cried, cutting off Aidan's oxygen supply. "Where have you been?"
"He has been meeting with me," McGonagall replied as Morgan appeared in the open doorway.
"Yeah," Aidan wheezed as Elisa stepped away from him. "I told you about it this morning. Don't you remember?"
"No," Elisa said slowly, frowning. "But my memory's been a little funny lately," she added, trailing off, her eyes sliding slightly out of focus. Aidan wondered about the side effects of memory modification and he made a mental note to ask McGonagall later.
"If we might come in?" McGonagall prompted.
"Oh," Elisa replied, her eyes snapping back into focus. "Forgive me. I'm Elisa Sears," she said, holding out one hand.
"Minerva McGonagall," said the Headmistress, taking her hand. "And you must be the boy's father."
Morgan nodded. "Morgan Sears," he said. "And yes, won't you come in?" He stepped aside, allowing the two of them to pass through the doorway. Aidan suppressed a shudder as he came within inches of the man. "What's this all about?" Morgan asked, closing the door behind them.
"My acceptance at a private school," Aidan said, adding, as he saw Morgan frown, "far away."
"I don't remember that," his adoptive father said. "Please sit down," he added to McGonagall, indicating the leather couch in the living room with one outstretched hand.
"Thank you. We sent a letter in early January," McGonagall said as she perched herself on the edge of the couch. "I have a copy here, if you'd like to see it." She withdrew a piece of paper from a portfolio that Aidan was certain she had not had when they came in, handing it to Elisa.
"'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sears,'" Elisa read, "'we are pleased to inform you that your son, Aidan, has been accepted at the Athenian Institute for Advanced Learning, due to his outstanding academic showing in the preceding term.'" She glanced at McGonagall, startled. "Athenian? As in Greece?"
McGonagall nodded.
"Let me see that," Morgan said, taking the letter from his wife's hands. "'The Athenian Institute is a private school dedicated to the pursuit of advanced subjects in math and science. Only two percent of all applicants are actually accepted.'" He frowned at McGonagall. "I don't remember applying."
Aidan could have sworn she smiled slightly. "I have a copy of the application as well," she said, withdrawing another sheet of paper from the portfolio. "I believe that is your signature at the bottom, Mr. Sears."
"When did you do this?" Elisa murmured, looking over her husband's arm as he took the second sheet from McGonagall.
"I don't remember," Morgan replied softly, brow furrowed in consternation. Aidan was more than happy to contribute to the man's confusion.
"It was right after you told me I should broaden my horizons," he told Morgan. "Don't you remember saying that?"
Morgan nodded absently, his eyes traveling over the "letter" once more. "'Activities include travel to various historical sights in and around Athens, a weeklong stay in Rome for comparative cultural studies, and an end-of-term excursion to Alexandria, Egypt, site of the famed Library of Alexandria.' How much does this cost?"
"Most of the funds come from private donors," McGonagall replied smoothly. "Aidan will, however, need spending money."
"Will you excuse us for a moment?" Morgan asked.
McGonagall nodded. "Pack your things," she said quietly to Aidan as Mr. and Mrs. Sears retired down the hall, talking in low, urgent voices. "It will help to persuade them."
"Athens?" Aidan whispered, grinning.
"You said 'far away', did you not?" She sat as rigidly as ever, but Aidan saw the corners of her mouth twitch. The Minister was right, he thought happily, heading up to his bedroom, McGonagall was not as bad as she seemed.
When he came back downstairs, one duffel bag slung over each arm, the entire matter seemed to be settled, although Morgan had a slightly glazed look in his eyes as he handed over a large sum of money to the Headmistress, which made Aidan suspicious. McGonagall's wand was nowhere in sight, however.
"This just feels so sudden," Elisa was saying. "I know we've been planning it for awhile, but it still feels strange." She turned to face Aidan as he entered the living room, and the sorrowful expression on her face caused Aidan's insides to burn guiltily. He would gladly have left if Morgan had been the only one involved, but Elisa actually cared about him, and he suddenly found himself having second thoughts.
"Not to worry," McGonagall said soothingly, pocketing the money Morgan had given to her. "Aidan will be in the best of hands. And he will be allowed to return for the holidays."
"Must he leave now?" Elisa inquired earnestly. "I thought term was nearly over."
"He needs time to become accustomed to his host family," McGonagall said. "Not to mention the enormous amount of homework he will be expected to complete before the fall term even begins." Aidan's stomach lurched at the way McGonagall emphasized "enormous"; he felt certain she was referring to the amount of work he would have to do between now and September if he was to catch up with his fellow classmates.
"Oh," Elisa said. She suddenly walked over and hugged Aidan even more fiercely than she had when he arrived. "You're growing up so fast," she said tearfully. "I know you didn't like that picture on your birthday cake, but--"
"It's okay," Aidan interrupted, feeling very uncomfortable.
Elisa grasped his arms firmly, stepping back and surveying him carefully, as if memorizing his every detail. "Now I expect you to write often," she said, trying to sound stern and failing. "And mind you get good marks," she added with a sniffle. She shook her head. "I don't know why I'm getting all soggy on you," she said apologetically. "I mean, we've known about this for ages."
Aidan cast a reproachful look at McGonagall, convinced she had modified their memories once again while he had been packing. She returned his gaze coolly, as if daring him to try and prove it.
He turned his attention back to Elisa. "I'll write," he promised, wondering how on earth he was going to get letters to her from wherever the school was located. He had a feeling owls weren't going to be the answer.
"Best get a move on," McGonagall said shortly, checking her wristwatch. "Our flight leaves in an hour."
Elisa and Morgan escorted them outside, where Aidan saw the car had exchanged its violent magenta coloring for a rich, navy blue, with the Athenian Institute for Advanced Learning insignia now emblazoned on the doors. The driver helped Aidan load his bags into the trunk before opening the passenger door so he could climb inside the car.
As Aidan settled into the back seat, he saw Elisa give a sad little half-wave and waved back, feeling completely wretched. He had never before realized how much he had become attached to Elisa; always, his overriding feelings of hatred for Morgan had been directed at her, too, and he felt sorry now, wishing he had been kinder to her. True, he hadn't been horrible to her, but still his conscience tormented him for the fiction he and McGonagall had invented on the spot and the unfair modification of their memories--of her memory when she had failed to readily embrace it, out of concern for his well-being.
"Was that as bad as you expected?" McGonagall asked, seating herself next to him.
"No," Aidan replied miserably. "It was worse."
The car pulled away from the curb and Aidan glanced backward, watching as the only home he had ever known--and perhaps the closest thing he had ever had to a mother--retreated into the distance.
