"So, that's it, sir," James said, resisting the urge to run his fingers anxiously through his hair yet again, his eyes flitting over to his goddaughter, sitting in one of the armchairs near Dumbledore's fire with a pad and pencil, attempting to draw Fawkes, as the bird eyed her with a suspicious glare.

The man, old enough to be James's grandfather, sighed heavily, glasses glinting over steepled fingers, actually looking his age for once. "I will admit, dear boy, I did not anticipate such a development when I encouraged you to take her in, and in hindsight, I should have. I'm sorry to have put you in such a position."

Relief swept over him, as he realised that no, Dumbledore would not expect him to somehow convince Tiffany that his goddaughter wasn't a danger to their own children, when she indisputably was, or would be. She claimed Tiff's crazy aunt had told her not to use 'proper' legilimency on anyone because she might hurt herself (via legilimency, despite Tiff's insistence that Druella wasn't actually a legilimens), but she hadn't said anything about not making the kids want to do whatever she asked or forget things like the fact that they were hungry. Even if those were 'superficial' uses of mind magic, not likely to cause long term damage in and of themselves, James agreed with Tiffany that they were horrifying — James actually thought editing their perception at any given moment was more disturbing than making them forget they were hungry, it wasn't like he and Tiff would forget to feed them, even if they weren't crying about it — and this couldn't be allowed to go on.

He and Tiffany had forbidden her to meddle with the kids' minds, but neither of them were mind mages, they couldn't tell if she was actually obeying them, or just being subtle about whatever she might be doing. She seemed to understand that she was in some sort of trouble, even if she didn't understand why, so it was possible she actually was following the new rules. Tiff still hadn't let her be alone in a room with any of the other kids since they'd come home from that bloody Yule party. (Yes, James did appreciate knowing that there was a problem developing right under his nose, but he still couldn't help resenting Bellatrix's mother for having pointed it out.)

And that wasn't even considering the animal sacrifice or the 'gods' talking to her in her head. He had to admit, it was hard to deny that there was actually something talking to her, when she hadn't even been exposed to the names Hecate or Persephone before Yule — Lily might have mentioned them in her hearing, but she wouldn't remember them — as opposed to the usual assumption that black mages were just delusional, their delusions conforming to certain expectations they held based on stories they were familiar with before suffering a psychotic break. He did want to talk to Dumbledore about that, too — he knew much more about all this religious, fundamental theory stuff than James (despite his claims two weeks ago, his mother hadn't really taught him much about her family's beliefs at all) — but he had to admit Druella had been right about one thing, at least: the mind mage issue was more pressing.

In fact, he was (though he felt a bit guilty about it), deliberately not telling the grandfatherly old man exactly how they'd discovered that the girl was a mind mage, because the solution he and Tiff had finally come up with was that her other godfather might be a Death Eater spy, but he was also a legilimens and he couldn't be too openly terrible of an influence on children if Dumbledore allowed him to be the Head of Slytherin. Yes, the Slytherins were a slimy bunch and most of them were already lost causes, but they were still students, Dumbledore was responsible for their education and wellbeing. He wouldn't just abandon them to be corrupted by an openly dark Head of House. James himself might be reluctant to give Severus Snape of all people that sort of responsibility, but he presumed Dumbledore knew him better than James did, these days, and he definitely knew the greasy little git was a spy, so... (James didn't trust Snape, but he did trust Dumbledore.)

Since Snape was the head of Slytherin and also teaching Potions (which was frankly hilarious, git hated tutoring, everyone knew that), he lived at the school. Which meant that if James and Tiff were going to insist he take Mimi (which shouldn't be difficult, the man had worshipped Evans when they were all in school, and even he would have to admit that letting a three-(and-a-half-)year-old legilimens stay in the same household as three other small children was a terrible idea), she would have to stay at the school. Which James suspected Dumbledore would be reluctant to allow if he knew about The Cat.

"Unfortunately I doubt Severus is in a stable enough frame of mind to take in Lily's child at the moment — he still hasn't recovered from her loss, you know—" What? No! "—but there are plenty of empty wings here at the school." Oh, thank God... "I dare say we can find a place for her here, well away from the students. I'll see to her care myself — I may not be a legilimens, but I daresay I'm a good enough occlumens to fend off a small child and teach her to control herself — and of course there are the elves. I understand their minds are rather different from humans', more difficult to influence?"

There was a lilt at the end of that sentence, as though it was a question. If it was, it was a rather silly one — James had no idea. There were Potter elves at the Cottage (though most were assisting in the rebuilding of the Manor), but he hadn't thought to ask them if the little imp had tried to legilimise any of them. If they'd noticed — he certainly hadn't caught her trying to compel him, her attempts not even sufficient to register through his occlumency barriers. He shrugged.

Dumbledore sighed again. "Would you like to tell her that she will be remaining here, while I speak to the elves about preparing a space for her?"

Yeah, James could do that. It was really the least he could do. He meandered over to kneel beside her armchair, peering over her shoulder at the surprisingly decent sketch of a sort of anti-phoenix. It was recognisably a bird, at least, the lines catching the most light from the fire shaded the darkest in the image. "I don't think it likes me much," she said, continuing to shade in the drawing. "Mister Dum-ble-dore," she added, being very careful to pronounce his name correctly, "doesn't like me, either."

"Fawkes just doesn't know you yet, kiddo. And I'm sure Mister Dumbledore likes you just fine."

"He doesn't hate me. He hates people related to me, I think — not you or Aunt Tiffany, he likes you. But Thom and Bella and Sirius. Why didn't you tell me about them?" she asked, turning suddenly to face him, eyes far too green in the firelight.

Who had told her about them? The voices in her head? Druella? She'd admitted the crazy witch had told her some things silently. (James still had a hard time believing Druella was old enough to be Bellatrix's mother, but he could easily believe she was mad enough to be related to her.) "I— They're not good people." I didn't tell you because how the hell are you supposed to tell a kid her father is in prison for using the Imperius and her mother was forced to walk through the Veil for listening to the voices in her own head and doing all sorts of disgusting, horrifying magics? How do you tell her that her 'grandfather' is a sick, evil man who started a war because he wanted to be able to do that kind of magic openly, and likes to torture people to death?

"Like that, I guess," she said, apparently in response to the thought he...hadn't intentionally projected, even though maybe there was a part of him that had wanted her to just...hear it. Know it. Whatever.

James sighed. "They're not good people, but I didn't... I didn't want to upset you, I guess. Make you think that their crimes had anything to do with you, or that you're a bad person because they were bad people."

"No, I'm a bad person because I made Charlie go back to sleep because Kore said that was a better idea than putting a pillow over his face so I couldn't hear him crying—" Jesus Christ... "Kore" was supposedly Death, so they'd probably dodged a completely mundane AK on that one... "—and I broke rules no one ever told me about doing my Yule gift for Annie." Aside from her resentment over getting in trouble for breaking rules that no one had told her about because any sane person would think they were obvious — not killing animals seemed pretty bloody basic — she didn't sound upset, despite calling herself a bad person, or seem affected at all, really. She went back to her drawing as though their conversation was over. (James only wished...) James had to wonder whether she actually had a clear idea what bad actually meant, aside from you're in trouble again, Mimi.

"You're not a bad person Mimi, but don't— Honey, please don't talk about Annie or Kore. Not where anyone else might hear you. Or anything they ask you to do."

"Okay, but if I'm not a bad person, why're you going to leave me here? Not because Aunt Tiffany is being weird around me lately. Dumbledore doesn't hate me, but he's the same kind of weird. Wary?" she said, as though in response to a voice he couldn't hear, suggesting the word she was looking for but didn't know. "Wary. He's better at pretending he's not, I guess, but he doesn't want me here either. Why can't I go where Magistra Dru said, with Thom? She thought him and his wife would."

"I...don't think they're married, kiddo." The idea was just...inexplicably weird, for some reason.

"That's not the point, Uncle James. If you and Aunt Tiffany don't want me anymore, why can't I go stay with them?"

"Because they're bad people, honey, remember?"

"So? I'm a bad person, too. Like my mother was bad," she added, apparently deciding that her phoenix was done and moving on to a little five-petaled flower she liked to put on drawings instead of signing them, since Tiffany had told her that Calytrix, her second name, was another name for star flowers. "That's why I can't talk about my friends, right? Because they'd make me go through the Veil, too?"

Shite... James was not prepared for this conversation. Where the hell was Tiff when he needed her? "Er..."

"It's okay, you don't have to say it. Kore told me, so I know it's true. But why does it matter if they're bad, if I'm bad, too? Magistra Dru said Bella would want me."

"Er...because don't you want to grow up to be good?"

She blinked at him, her face a perfect little copy of Tiff's oh, my God, Jamie, I can't tell if you're taking the piss or if you're just that stupid expression. "Um...I don't know if you know this, Uncle James, but I'm not good at being good. I try, but sometimes there's rules no one tells me, and good people don't make other people angry or wary or talk to my friends, and I don't try to make Aunt Tiffany upset, it just happens, and I like my friends, so maybe I should just be bad and go live with the bad people instead of staying here and being a problem."

Damn it! No one ever said being a parent was this bloody hard... "I think if you practise, you'll get better at being good. But that's not why I brought you here. I brought you here because this is a school, and you need to learn how not to hurt people with mind magic by accident. Mister Dumbledore is going to teach you that. It might take a long time, but after you learn to control yourself, you can come home."

She glared at him. "I didn't hurt anyone! And I didn't do magic on accident, either!"

"But honey, you might. No one plans to have an accident. And while you're here, Aunt Tiffany and I will teach Harry and Betty and Charlie to keep you out of their minds like we do so you'll all be extra safe."

A hint of fear appeared in her eyes, her lower lip wobbling. "Charlie's just a baby, Uncle James. You can't teach him anything yet. Maybe not for years. How long do I have to stay here?"

"I... I don't know, Mimi."

"That's a lie, Uncle James," she sniffled, turning away and curling in on herself, speaking to her knees. "You never want me to come back. I don't know why you don't want me to go live with Bella, but I know you don't want to have to deal with me being bad and you think you and Aunt Tiffany will be happier with me gone and you don't want me to go home with you. I know you were scared when Mister Dum'ldore said my other godfather can't take me either because you just want to get rid of me, but you don't just want to get rid of me, or it wouldn't matter if I was with good people or bad people, and I could go with someone that isn't wary of me, so you don't just want me gone, but I don't know what you do want, and I wish you'd just tell me!"

"I want—" he said without thinking, before catching himself. "Mimi! No compulsions!" That one had been surprisingly strong, enough to make an impression even through his habitual occlumency. He hadn't really been paying attention to it, but still!

"Tell me!" she demanded again, glaring at him now, with tears in her eyes, frustration and betrayal buffeting at him along with the compulsions. "Tell me!"

"Mimi, I'm not going to tell you anything if you keep trying to force me to. You know the magic word!"

The building psychic temper tantrum dropped away immediately, which demonstrated either very impressive emotional control, or that she hadn't truly been that worked up, and had simply been trying to manipulate him. He couldn't decide which was more likely. He'd never thought she was a particularly manipulative child, but... "Please."

"Thank you," he said automatically. Tiff trying to teach the kids to be polite had probably had a bigger impact on James than Harry or Mimi. "I want you to be safe, Mimi. I don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want you to hurt anyone else, either. And de Mort and the Blackheart — Thom and Bella," he corrected himself, hating Druella a little bit for forcing him to refer to them so familiarly, but Mimi didn't know them by any other names (as far as James knew). "They'd teach you it's okay to hurt people."

"I know that, Uncle James!" she protested.

She knew that it wasn't okay, she meant (he presumed). "I know, Mimi. But if you go live with them, they'll make it seem okay and normal to hurt people. Maybe even good, like your 'present' for Annie. It might take a while, but it will happen." Given that she had already sacrificed that cat, it probably wouldn't take a while. James would be a bit surprised if it took more than one or two reassurances that doing whatever she wanted to, or whatever her 'friends' wanted her to, was perfectly fine for it to sink in. "I want you to stay here so you can practise and get into the habit of being good, so even if people try to convince you to do bad things as a grown-up, you'll remember to be good."

"Katie says you want me to get into the habit of being small and...meek? Meek. And not ever really grow up and be everything I could be." She glared at him, red-eyed and clearly on the verge of tears again. "She says you want what's best for everyone else, even if that's not what's best for me!"

...Well, James wouldn't have put it in those exact terms, but... Yeah, that might be true. "...Maybe I do," he admitted, feeling unaccountably shitty about it. Surely wanting to protect the greater good, the safety and happiness of the greatest possible number of people, was the right thing to do.

(He could practically hear Sirius's mocking laughter, the first time a Death Eater had taunted him on a raid, threatening his young family. James had called down lightning on that fucker, because damn Dumbledore's try not to kill anyone policy! Anyone who so much as considered hurting Tiff and Harry was going to be a scorch mark on the thrice-cursed cobblestones! See, now you get it, Jamie. Fuck the greater good, fuck your principles, fuck protecting the weak and the common good. We take care of our own. That's just how people are. The Dark might be more honest about it, but when it's down to the wire? You'd let the world burn for your kid, same as I would.)

"I hate you!" she hissed, tears spilling over. "I hate you, and I never want to see you again, either!" she declared, hopping out of the chair to glare at him better. "This was for you to remember me," she sniffled, holding up the sketch. "But I don't want you to remember me!" She crumpled it up and threw it into the grate, flames consuming it in a matter of seconds, which...really hurt, honestly.

"Mimi..."

"No! I want you to go away and forget about me and never come back, either!" Then she ran from the room, slamming the door to the spiral staircase as she went.

James let himself fall into a chair as Dumbledore approached, not truly concerned about Mimi running off. The Castle wouldn't let her hurt herself. It might not even let her out of the staircase, just keep spiralling up while she ran down. "That...could have gone better."

"It also could have gone worse," the old man assured him, taking the other armchair. "You know, it's odd, seeing the room from this spot." He smiled, a twinkle in his eye like his words were a lesson Jamie was meant to work out. "Like sitting on the guests' side of the desk. Simply moving to the other side of the room makes the familiar seem new and oddly foreign." He conjured a pair of glasses and used a Switching Spell to "pour" them a measure from a decanter hidden in a small alcohol cabinet James had found out about halfway through sixth year, when the Headmaster had called him up to offer his condolences on his parents' deaths in person. "All a matter of perspective, of course, but it always seems to take me by surprise how much difference it can make."

Sirius had always been better at the crazy old man riddles, even back when they'd been firsties, and James had been in awe of his father's godfather, the Albus Dumbledore. He'd dragged that lunatic up here every time Dumbledore had invited him for tea that first year, because James could never think of anything to say when a living legend offered him a biscuit, and Sirius had practically only shut up when he was offered a biscuit. Jamie, mate, dunno if you realise this, but if I came over all fae-struck whenever a sorcerer looked my way, I'd get the piss cursed out of me for not answering how Esmerelda Trick's response to the goblin uprising in Sixteen Oh Four contributed to the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy or how you tell if someone was killed with Garrotting Gas or an actual garrot quickly enough.

"Sir, if there's something you want to tell me, please, just tell me."

"Give her time, give her space, she'll eventually realise nothing's really changed between you, she's just gained a different perspective."

...James thought that might be...somewhat overly optimistic. When was the last time Dumbledore had dealt with a small child? God, this is a terrible idea! Maybe...

But there was no maybe. He couldn't take her home, especially not after that little tantrum. The first time she lost her temper and deliberately tried to compel Tiff or one of the kids, she'd write to her aunt, who would write to the Blackheart, who would be standing on their front step in two days, daring James to try to stop her taking his goddaughter to brainwash into being a baby Death Eater. She might do it even if Mimi didn't try to deliberately compel any of them. She'd as good as said that if Snape hadn't been willing to take her, or Dumbledore hadn't been willing to let him (or if Dumbledore hadn't been willing to take her himself, though that wasn't an option they'd considered), Tiff would be moving to one of the Davis properties until James "came to his senses" and sent Mimi to Mann, and taking the kids with her.

Rather than try to come up with a response, James drained his glass, well-aged firewhisky burning all the way down, and settling like a hot coal in the guilty pit of his stomach.

"I'll get her settled in, and you can come talk to her again tomorrow, after she's had some time to calm down and become accustomed to the idea of living here."

James sighed. "I suppose I don't have much choice."

"Oh, there are always choices, my boy, it's just sometimes none of them are very appealing..." Dumbledore trailed off staring into the fire, its ruddy light turning his beard the same red-orange it had been in his youth, though it cast the lines of his face into deeper relief. "I...couldn't help but overhear, earlier... You are doing the right thing, James. We do sometimes have to ask individuals to make sacrifices for the good of the many. I have no doubt that if you were to allow her to go join Lord Voldemort's court, he would teach her dark and powerful techniques which could, arguably, be characterised as helping her to reach her full potential, but at what cost? And I'm sure that in time, she will learn to be content, even happy, living within the bounds of social acceptability. Come to appreciate the things that truly make life worth living, you know, rather than longing for power and wondering what might have been."

Did you? James wondered. But he didn't ask. No one mentioned the role Dumbledore had played in the rise of Grindelwald's Revolution if they could help it. "Maybe."

The old man nodded, a slow, troubled nod. "But I also couldn't help overhearing... Who is this Katie who's been encouraging her to seek out her mother's sire?" Shite. "Surely such a young child can't have many contacts outside of her own home..."

James winced, anticipating his mentor's response, but he couldn't bring himself to lie about it when asked directly. "Ah...Hecate, we think. Well, Tiff and I think she's just an imaginary friend, but we ran into Druella Rosier at a party a few weeks ago, and she seemed very certain that there actually is...some external force speaking to the girl."

Surprisingly, Dumbledore just let out a little scoff. "Yes, Druella does have a habit of being very certain about things, doesn't she." Then he sighed. "I had hoped that it would not be the case that little Mira would follow in her mother's footsteps, but I cannot say I'm truly surprised..."