Author's Note: Hello again! Now, apparently it's against the rules to answer reviews in an author's note, so I won't. I will, however, provide some answers to questions which simply popped into my mind, that I thought some of you might be wondering about. I could be completely wrong, of course, since I just randomly thought up these questions, but hey!

Clarification is a wonderful thing, and makes reading a story much better than when you have no idea what's going on. First of all, yes, Part I, which is this fan fiction, is about Albus Dumbledore's father. Percival is Albus Dumbledore's father. That's not a secret, so I'm just going to say it. Obviously Albus Dumbledore isn't born yet, as Percival is only sixteen at the moment. :P

Secondly, the chapter you're about to read takes place in 1825. Since it's late in the year, the next chapter will take place in 1826. I honestly didn't mean to have my updates coincide with the time of the year that the chapters take place in, it just worked out like that, interestingly enough.

If you go to my livejournal, you'll find a (partial) Dumbledore/Clarkend family tree. I'm posting it because I know that all the various relations can be terribly confusing, especially as there are a lot of girl cousins currently about. Check out the family tree if you're confused about who's who.

If you're ever confused about anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask. The question might magically pop into my head all on its own and the answer may very well wind up here. Of course, if you really want to know something, you can always just comment in my livejournal, and I can answer you in a more direct and speedy manner. But I'm not giving out any spoilers!

Enough with the author's note! This is the last update of 2005, so I'll see you all in the new year!

Dumbledore (Part I – The Phoenix)

Chapter V – The Scheme

-

A little after four thirty in the morning on December the twenty-seventh, a young lady attempted to leave the Clarkends' house in London by a back door. A servant, who recognised her as Louisa Clarkend, detained her. It was apparent that Miss Clarkend was in a great deal of pain, but it took three servants to subdue her and lead her back upstairs. She kept insisting that she needed to leave the house on an urgent errand, and became very distraught when she realised that she had been thwarted.

The physician was summoned immediately. At five o'clock he took Louisa's parents aside and spoke with them privately. By half past five everyone in the house who was awake knew that Louisa was with child, and was giving birth.

At a quarter to six in the morning, Mr Dumbledore awoke, and went out into the corridor, where he was met by a very dishevelled young lady coming out of Terrence's bedroom. Both stared at each other, shocked, until Terrence emerged as well. He looked at his father and the girl, and his face went pale. Mr Dumbledore took both of them by their wrists and led them into a nearby sitting room for questioning, none of the three having any idea of what was occurring in the rest of the house.

At six o'clock, Percival awoke with a foreboding lump in his throat. He could always instinctively tell when something bad was happening. The still, icy air hinted at disaster, and all the little creaks and rustlings and muffled footsteps in the cold morning whispered of misfortune.

He lay in bed for several minutes, trying to ward off the sense of dread that seemed to hang in the air all around him. When he heard someone scream he decided that he had better not put it off any longer, got out of bed, got dressed, splashed his face with cold water, and went out into the corridor.

The broken flower pot was still on the floor, and he wondered why no one had cleaned it up yet. He could hear raised voices coming from the sitting room. He went inside, and found his father, who looked livid, Terrence, who looked defiant, and a very upset young lady.

"Good morning," said Percival.

"Leave, Percival," his father glared at him. Percival did not think this very sporting; after all, Terrence was the one in trouble, not he.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"None of your business," Terrence grumbled.

"Oh," said Percival. "But last night it was my business, was it?"

"What do you mean 'what's going on'?" Mr Dumbledore replied. "What's going on is that I'm trying to get a straight answer out of this young lady as to what she was doing coming out of my son's bedroom this morning."

"Well," said Percival helpfully, "I should think that would be rather obvious."

"Percival!" his father shouted. "Out!"

The girl was crying. "Look, you're only upsetting her," Percival told him. "What's the difference? You caught her coming out of Terrence's bedroom, not going into it. There isn't much you can do about it now."

"When I want sarcastic remarks from you, boy, I'll – "

"I only came in here because I heard somebody scream," Percival said at the same time.

His father stopped abruptly, looking puzzled. "Scream? What on earth do you mean?"

"I mean I heard someone scream," Percival answered, becoming annoyed. "I suppose as it was nobody in this room, I'll just go."

No sooner had he said this than Maria burst into the room, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Lord!" she cried, staring wildly at all of them. "Oh, Lord, I cannot believe this! You will never believe this!"

"Good God," said Mr Dumbledore, rising from his chair. "Maria, what is the matter?"

"Mama wants you in the drawing room," Maria replied between sobs. "You are wanted immediately. Louisa is – she is – "

"Well? What is she?" Mr Dumbledore demanded, face quite red. "Out with it, girl!"

"She's having a baby!" Maria wailed, and then turned and fled the room.

Mr Dumbledore's mouth opened and closed silently. He looked from Terrence, to the girl, to Percival, and then strode out of the room after Maria. Percival, without a second glance at his brother and his young lady friend, went after his father. His cousin could not possibly be having a baby. She was not with child – was she?

He followed his father into the drawing room, where his mother, Maria, Rachel, Jane, and several of the female servants were standing or sitting about in a state of wretchedness.

"Is it true?" Mr Dumbledore asked them, staring around in disbelief. "Is it true, then, that Louisa is... err... confined?"

Mrs Dumbledore looked up from dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief and nodded. "It is true," she said. "Her mother and the physician are with her. Her father is distraught – he left the house half an hour ago, and we don't know where he's gone – we've sent a servant out to find him and bring him back."

"Where is Rosamund?" Percival asked suddenly. Surely she could not still be asleep, after the scream (Percival still did not know who had screamed or why), and the argument in the sitting room, and Maria's wailing.

"Still asleep, I think," Mrs Dumbledore replied. "Jenny," she addressed one of the servants present, "will you go wake up Miss Dumbledore, please? Tell her we are all down here in the drawing room."

Jane Clarkend stood up as well. "I am going to see my sister," she declared. No one felt like arguing with her.

Jane and Jenny left and everyone sat around in silence for a while. Percival stared at various points around the room – the ceiling, the carpet, a chair, a mirror – not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Finally, Mr Dumbledore took out his pocket watch and informed them all that it was nearly seven o'clock.

Five or ten minutes later, Jane entered the room again and sat down in a chair by the fire, looking dispirited.

"How is she?" Rachel inquired.

"She is doing as well as can be expected, I believe," was Jane's reply.

"I cannot believe how stupid she is!" Rachel exclaimed. "Stupid, stupid girl! She was engaged! What, did she think that Mr Stephenson would not notice?"

Jane looked up at her and then gave a strange laugh. "According to Louisa," she said, "Mr Stephenson knew."

A couple of people gasped; everyone else was mostly too dumbfounded to speak.

"It is his child then," Mrs Dumbledore said weakly. "Wicked man!"

"He did mean to marry her, though," Percival pointed out, but no one was listening to him. They were all enthusiastically discussing the wickedness of Mr Stephenson, and wondering how he had tricked Louisa into such a thing. Percival listened bemusedly for a while; it was as if one idea would bounce off one lady, and then bounce off another, and every time it bounced it inflated, so that soon Mr Stephenson was being likened to Napoleon Bonaparte.

Percival was about to ask what time it was, when Jenny came back into the room. She was very pale, was trembling, and was holding a folded piece of paper in her hands. Without a word, she handed it to Mrs Dumbledore, and then stood back, looking petrified.

Poor Mrs Dumbledore had learnt to equate letters with bad news, and opened it with some trepidation. Everyone's eyes were on her as she read it. At first, she did not seem to display much emotion at all, but when she finished reading and began to stand, it was clear that she was shaking.

"Let me help you, madam," one of the servants said, and moved just in time to catch Mrs Dumbledore, who had fainted. There was a great commotion as everyone rushed to be of some assistance. Mrs Dumbledore was not out for long, but when she regained consciousness she was too distraught to speak, and lay on the sofa with her hands covering her face.

Rachel had got hold of the letter, and began to read it aloud for the benefit of everyone in the room. "Dear Mama," she read. "I know that this will come as something of a shock to you, but really, why should it? Any fool could see that Mr Stephenson liked me above all the other girls in the house."

"Mr Stephenson!" several people exclaimed.

"And now," Rachel continued reading, "that I am confident he is in love with me, we saw no reason to wait any longer. Mr Stephenson's parents are very much against his marrying me and, as you may well know, wish him to marry a very vulgar girl who I am determined not to speak of. We have gone immediately to Gretna Green, and Mr Stephenson has some desire to stay in Scotland afterward, but I hope that we will be invited back to visit you all soon! I am terribly sorry for any distress I may have caused you, but know that I am quite safe, and will be sending a lengthy letter soon, signed as Mrs Stephenson!"

There was silence for a moment, and then, "Was that written by Rosamund?" Maria cried.

"Yes," Rachel said simply.

Everyone was shocked, and angered. This served to prove that Mr Stephenson was, indeed, the very worst of men. To have put Louisa Clarkend in her present condition, promising to marry her, and then to run off to Scotland with Rosamund! It was not to be borne. And for Rosamund to speak of her cousin in such terms – it was simply beyond belief.

The hours passed in a maddening slowness. Percival wanted to leave, but thought that he had better stay should anything else happen. He felt betrayed, though no one had actually done anything to him. He had often felt alienated from his family, but never so much as this morning, sitting in the cold drawing room as his mother and sisters cried, and his father and the servants stood about uselessly. He glanced at Maria several times, half expecting something vile to be revealed about her as well.

Nobody had eaten breakfast, but nobody was hungry. Percival found his thoughts wandering to Diagon Alley, and the Ollivanders. He rather wished he were there right now. He pictured himself walking through the dusty shop and feeling his skin prickle from all the magic, and then sitting in their drawing room and drinking tea. They would gossip and chat about wizarding things, and Percival would do this naturally, because he had been a wizard all his life, and had never known any differently. And all the while the phoenix would be there, ever present, keeping watch near the window...

Percival must have actually dozed off, because he awoke with a start, sitting up in his chair, as footsteps hurried toward the drawing room. His aunt appeared at the doorway, looking very dishevelled, and generally how a woman who has just found out that her young unmarried daughter is with child and giving birth in the space of a morning would appear.

"The baby is born," she announced. No one knew what to say. There would obviously be no congratulations. "It is a boy," Mrs Clarkend said, breaking the silence. "I – I think we would do well to summon Mr Stephenson."

Everyone looked at each other. Nobody quite knew how to tell Mrs Clarkend that Mr Stephenson was currently on his way to Gretna Green with her niece. They were all spared the trouble, however, because at that moment two men came into the drawing room – one was Mr Clarkend, and one was Mr Stephenson.

"Where is my daughter?" Mrs Dumbledore cried, standing quickly and pointing a shaking finger at Mr Stephenson.

Mr Stephenson stared at her in surprise. "Your daughter? Madam, forgive me, I do not understand..."

This was unexpected. Was he telling the truth? He seemed more confused than they were. But then where was Rosamund? What was the meaning of it all?

"You are supposed to be eloping with my sister Rosamund," Percival said finally, when it was clear that no one else was going to take it upon themselves to explain. "To Gretna Green."

"Gretna Green!" he exclaimed, looking more shocked than ever. "With Miss Dumbledore? No indeed! Whatever made you think that?"

"This letter," said Rachel, and then handed it over to him. Mr Stephenson read it quickly and then frowned.

"She is not talking about me, I assure you," he said. "I can only assume that she is speaking of my brother – they did seem to favour each other, and I did not see him at all this morning. I expect she wrote 'Mr Stephenson' and not 'Mr Edgar Stephenson' because she assumed it would have been obvious which Mr Stephenson she meant."

Everyone in the room digested this new information in stunned silence. Mrs Clarkend and Mr Stephenson both left the room to go and see Louisa and the baby. The servants began to disperse. Still, everyone was out of sorts – no one was quite sure what to do with themselves.

The rest of the day was like this. Every time Percival passed someone in the corridor, he was given a new little bit of information or gossip. Soon it came out that Mr Stephenson was not the father of the child at all – that it was someone by the name of Phineas Nigellus Black (where had Percival heard that name before?) – but that Mr Stephenson was determined to raise the child as his own, and had been since he had learnt of Louisa's condition. All comparisons drawn with Napoleon were now lost, and Mr Stephenson was regarded throughout the house as a saint amongst men.

This was not to say that the family was happy, for they were all quite miserable. The shock was slowly wearing away into numbness and crumbling into confusion. Only part of the family gathered to eat dinner at the usual time.

Percival was among them. He sat at the table, hardly touching his food. A strange tapping noise caused him to look up, and then jump up from his chair in alarm. At the window directly across from him was a large brown owl.

Everyone in the room was quite bemused by the owl's presence at their window. Percival opened it quickly, and found that his suspicions were confirmed – it had a letter for him. Percival had read all about owl post in 'A Muggleborn's Guide to Magic'. "Err," he said to the owl, aware that his family must think him insane, "could you wait a minute or two?" The owl regarded him almost boredly, which Percival took to mean yes. Without a glance at his family, he rushed up the stairs and into his room, where he opened the letter read it. Poorly spelt in scrawling handwriting was this:

Dear Percival,

I think you aught to come to Hogwarts with us after Christmas holidays. I really think you aught to. I have just thought of it and I think it is an exellent scheme. If you want to learn magic Hogwarts is the place to do it in. I'm sure you can think of something to tell your family if you want to come. I could have used Fawkes to send you this letter but I thought he might stand out to much with the Muggles.

Yours &c.,

Catherine Ollivander

Besides a whole host of thoughts which ran through his mind, such as whether it were really appropriate for an eleven-year-old girl to be writing letters to a young man, and the fact that an owl delivering letters would likely attract just as much attention amongst Muggles as a phoenix - go to Hogwarts? Percival had never even considered it as a possibility. Now he wondered if he might somehow do it. After all, what Catherine had written was true – if he wanted to learn magic, he supposed that there was no better place to do it in than Hogwarts. He heard a tapping at his window, and spun around. The owl was there, having somehow found his room. It looked impatient.

Resisting the urge to correct her spelling errors, Percival hastily scribbled his reply:

Dear Catherine (or should he call her 'Miss Ollivander'?),

I think that it is an excellent scheme as well. I should very much like to go to Hogwarts. Do you think they would let me, though? The people who run the school, I mean. I could not very well take classes with all of the younger children.

And I must think of some way to convince my parents to let me go. Perhaps I will tell them that I am going to visit a friend. What does your brother think about this? And when would we leave for the school?

Yours &c.,

Percival Dumbledore

Percival sent the letter away with the owl, and then went back downstairs. He found his mother alone in the corridor. "Mother," he said, "may I go to Scotland after the Christmas holidays are over?"

She regarded him for a moment and then said, "Have you found someone to elope with as well, then?"

It was so unlike her – and so like him, perhaps – that Percival was taken aback. "No," he replied simply. "My friend has invited me to stay with him for a while. He has a – um – a tutor there, who I think is willing to instruct me as well."

His mother sighed, and looked wearied. "I don't know, Percival. I think that your father and I ought to meet these people before sending our son off to live with them for God knows how long."

Percival debated with himself for a minute, before stating, "They're wizards." He knew that if she met them they would seem odd to her, and then she would suspect, and then she would not trust him, and would be less inclined to let him do anything.

She gave a strained, humourless laugh. "Wizards!" she exclaimed. "Well, of course they are! Wizards! Why not? Rosamund is eloping, Terrence is bringing strange women into the house, you're a wizard – Maria is the only one who hasn't disappointed us in some way or another!"

"Thanks," said Percival. "If you meet these people – they're very respectable people, I assure you, even if they are wizards – will you let me go to Scotland?"

"Who are these people?" she demanded. "What are their names?"

"Alistair and Catherine Ollivander," he answered.

"A girl?" his mother said sharply.

"Yes, a girl. She's Alistair's sister," he replied, becoming impatient. "Do you want to meet them? I can write to them and invite them over if you like."

"Fine," she said. "Fine, yes. But they cannot stay for long. Lord knows we don't want strangers in our house at a time like this." Upstairs, there was the crash of someone knocking something over, and a shout. The baby began to cry.