(Coeus Black - PoV)
*Stare*
"...Why does the Headmaster's office require a password?" Iris asks.
Phoebe shrugs.
"It kinda makes sense I guess? To prevent any potential "mischief" and given all the rare things supposedly hidden somewhere up there. But only when no one is in the office."
Staring, she tilts her head.
"Does he really not have an alarm spell to let him know someone is out here?"
...
"Can you not...I dunno...see the password?" Iris asks.
Phoebe grimaces.
"Dumbledore," she explains. "He does...something, that causes me problems. I can probably get it if I make a few tries..."
I shake my head.
"I think I know the password," I announce.
"Really?" Iris asks.
Phoebe blinks before grabbing her arm and pulling her away.
"Reducto!"
(Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore - PoV)
...
The silence lingers in my office as I take in the three dirty, somewhat banged-up students sitting across from me.
...
Three dirty, but only two rather banged up, I correct myself. Young Phoebe is untouched. Is her Gift strong enough to apply to combat as well as foresight?
Remarkable, if true...
...
"Lemon drop?" I ask, offering the group the bowl.
...
"Perhaps not," I concede, slowly withdrawing the bowl before Coeus attempts to break it as well.
"Andy always told us not to accept candy from strange old men," Phoebe comments, drawing looks from the other two.
I chuckle.
"Ah-"
"Iris," she cuts me off, "Didn't get the same advice."
My hopeful attempts at joviality, to set some sort of positive tone for once, die.
Of course she didn't...
The girl in question fidgets under the attention.
It is only after a nudge from Phoebe that she speaks.
"Uncle Vernon told me to accept if a stranger offered me candy or a ride."
Closing my eyes, I take a slow breath.
No matter how low I set my expectations it is always worse. There is always something else. Something more, be it truly monstrous or incomprehensibly petty.
...
"I see."
The silence lingers a moment before I look up, meeting bright green eyes.
"Iris...I apologize. For whatever it is worth, I do, utterly, sincerely, apologize," I tell her, willing her to understand.
She looks away.
Nodding, I lean back in my chair.
Not unexpected.
I've had far worse reactions.
...
Too many. Too many apologies.
That, perhaps, should be a sign...
"But that's not why you are here, is it?" I ask, addressing the three as a whole. "I admit, I am curious what brings you here today. Something so significant you felt the need to destroy yet another Founder's artifact?"
Iris's eyes widen and she stills. Phoebe tilts her head in puzzlement. Coueus snorts.
"No way. The gargoyle was old, sure, but Founder's? Please."
He waves a hand dismissively.
"They made Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat. Relics that we can't replicate if we try. You," he points at me,"Told us off about the boats. Disposable, thrown together, junk and they are still better than half of what our enchanters can make. That stupid statue?"
He shakes his head.
"Garbage! We took the stupid thing out no problem. And the only reason we had to fight it in the first place was because it was so badly designed!"
Letting out a sigh, I hold up a hand to forestall his rant.
"I assume, that you are referring to the requirement of a password at all times? The inability to knock or announce yourself?"
Phoebe draws all eyes as she begins to giggle.
"Not...Not quite true?" she says.
"Oh?"
Does she already know the gargoyle's history, then? I certainly hope she didn't know how to fix the problem, or else I would have to wonder why they-
"We did announce ourselves!" she chirps. "Brother knocked very loudly!"
I can only stare as the dark-haired child collapses into a giggle fit.
I should have expected that.
Her brother nods before returning his attention to me.
"She's not wrong. I did manage to get your attention." He shrugs. "I just used a different password."
"Violence is not a password," I attempt to stress.
The look of puzzlement I receive in return...
Blacks.
Sighing, I give up that fight for the moment.
I haven't managed it the last three generations, I don't expect that will suddenly change now.
Redirect. Refocus their attention.
Coeus is interested in enchanting. Focus on the Gargoyle. Help him understand exactly what he destroyed. What has been lost due to his impatience, a moment of annoyance.
"I understand that you have an interest in enchanting, yes?"
His brows furrow but he gives a slow nod.
"You understand the process, then. We are rarely so lucky as to create a major project from nothing and have it work perfectly the first time. Even small modifications can have unexpected, disastrous even, results."
I frown slightly at his, at all of their reactions.
The sudden tenseness, shifting, the way they look at each other...
He has damaged or destroyed a desk or two, I know. Part of the reason I brought it up. But...I suspect I am missing something.
"...Yeah?" he eventually prompts.
A question for later.
"Hogwarts, was never truly finished. The castle was built, the school opened, but the Founders never stopped adding to it. There are many partial and unfinished projects scattered about...including some of the more well-known features of the school. You have already mentioned the boats, which were always meant to be replaced with more respectable, custom models."
Coeus frowns.
"So you are saying they, what, didn't finish enchanting th- No," he shakes his head. "You are saying it was a prototype, aren't you? If that. An early test model, to make sure the baseline works. They would add more enchantments after, or probably make new versions, and if there was a problem it would be much easier to fix."
Smiling, I nod along with him.
"Exactly so. I am certain the Founders were aware of it's problems and had solutions in mind. Alas, they were working on so many projects, in addition to all their other duties..."
I shake my head.
"As far as I know, there was no "finished" model."
Coeus frowns.
"So they just left it like that?" he asks. "It is useless as a guard and constantly in the way of anyone who actually tries to see the headmaster, even with an appointment or when asked to come."
"Ah... It wasn't so bad during their time," I admit. "The Gargoyle can be put to "sleep", if you will, moving out of the way and no longer demanding a password."
"...And?" Coeus prompts.
"Doing so, switching between "Sleep" and "Guard" requires the Control. Which appears to have been lost a very long time ago. I haven't even been able to determine exactly what it is. An object? Words? A spell?"
I shrug.
"I only know it exists because of the older Headmaster portraits, but they are so very limited, at times."
Coeus nods, looking thoughtful.
"So it wasn't that badly designed. The headmasters were just incompetent."
His eyes focus on me.
"That makes sense I guess."
Iris and his sister nod in agreement.
...Regaining any measure of trust or respect is not going to be easy.
Snorting, he crosses his arms.
"Still pretty weak though. I don't get why they even bothered using it."
I shake my head.
"Very, very few constructs can provide meaningful opposition on their own to a skilled and determined wizard. The Gargoyle does act as a physical warning and deterrent, but that was not its primary purpose. The intention was to serve as an additional anchor and foci for complex ward schemes to prevent subtle infiltration, and a warning for more blatant attempts. And they would not want to make a particularly dangerous and aggressive defense in a school regardless."
I raise an eyebrow.
"Not when more, impatient, students may provoke it and find themselves in a precarious situation."
"Meh," Coeus waves me off, completely unconcerned.
"The Ward anchor idea sounds cool," he admits. "I'll have to look into that...someday. When I know anything about them."
I give a small chuckle.
"In the meantime, I guess we should address our own, err, "precarious situation?"
Ah...
"The, threats, Phoebe is seeing against Iris?" I ask to confirm.
Coeus tilts his head for a moment before nodding.
My feelings on the matter are, unfortunately, mixed.
Elation and relief that they came to me for help at last!
It is good that they recognize the threat they are under, and coming to me for help is my first positive sign of any sort. And it is much easier to look into the problem if they are willing to work with me.
Alas, frustration and even fear refuse to be banished, hovering over all like a dark cloud.
Because I do not know if I currently can resolve the situation.
The most obvious potential culprit is Voldemort, of course. Motive, power, knowledge, ability. I would not be surprised they could accomplish such a feat if they chose to.
...If. But why would they?
Too many little details are not adding up.
No, I have a feeling it is something else. Or, at the very least, they are working through something else.
And with what has been described to me, I fear particularly esoteric forces are at work.
"So. We are First-Years," Coeus admits with a grimace. "We are so...limited right now. Our spell selection is pretty basic, and I doubt the school books will really have anything that is actually going to make a difference. Practice is great but it can only do so much, not with how little we know and while actively under attack."
I nod along with him.
Dark Lord or Deep Magic, this is not a problem First-Years should have to deal with at all, much less try to resolve.
And it truly is a relief that the boy does have some idea of his limi-
"So that's why I need your permission to learn Fiendfyre."
...
"I'm sorry?"
"Fiendfyre. We have no idea what is causing the problem, but it is a nice anti-everything spell, so I figure it is our best bet right now," he "explains" with a nod. "Professor Quirrel promised he would teach me if you agreed."
...
Slowly I raise my hand to rub at my face, doing my best to ignore Phoebe's newest fit of giggles.
Quirrel...
The Defense Professor.
Of course.
...
Can I not go one year without wanting to...
The girl's giggles escalate to outright laughter and I shake my head, focusing to regain my composure.
Iris looks to have been laughing lightly herself, while Coeus...Coeus merely looks mildly annoyed.
"Soooo? You done yet? We aren't asking you to do anything, Quirrel will take the time to actually teach me. Just say ok."
Staring at the boy, I find myself teetering on a precipice.
Every path before me leads into the pit below.
If I refuse, then I lose any lingering goodwill I might have, and any chance of a positive, or likely even working, relationship. And despite being children, nominally under my care, it matters.
With Arcturus backing them, Phoebe's sight, and my influence at an all-time low, the twins are barely controllable. Not without an outrageously disproportional cost and effort. And Iris...Iris is essential.
I could, perhaps, risk alienating the twins for now. The cost would be nasty, but as long as they don't go too far, they can always come around in a few years. But Iris, especially with the current situation...
We can't lose Iris, and she is already so vulnerable...
But a first year? Learning Fiendfyre?
He will die. At best he will die. At worst...
"You want to learn an infamously dangerous and uncontrollable spell, as a First-Year, as a solution to Iris's problem?" I ask.
For whatever good it will do. Blacks are not easily persuaded to change course at the best of times, and I can feel the futility.
He waves a hand at me.
"Iris will hang out with Daphne while I am learning the spell, obviously. We won't risk the blowback or whatever while I am practicing. Once I get it down, then..."
He shrugs.
"I have it down? And I will only use it if it's, you know, needed."
If she is go-
"If she is going to die anyway," Phoebe draws all eyes, voicing the unvoiced.
Looking into her eyes causes me to jolt, slightly.
How can someone so young look so...tired?
"Care to take a guess?" she asks.
"A guess?" I attempt to clarify.
"How many times I've watched her die. Or Brother. Or all of us! I'm not picky."
...
"I don't know," I admit quietly.
Jumping out of her chair she lunges towards the desk, slamming her fists down on it.
"NEITHER DO I!" she yells.
"I HAVE NO IDEA! IT'S TOO MANY! TOO MANY TO KEEP TRACK OF!"
Eyes still locked on mine, she glares.
"I didn't like Brother's idea. I don't like it. But unless you have something better? Right now?"
...
Closing her eyes, she shakes her head.
"Then stop wasting time. Say yes. We will do our thing. If you want to help, then you can try to find something. So we won't have to use Fiendfyre. But most importantly? Stop getting in the way."
Huffing, she turns away, returning to her chair.
Removing my glasses with one hand, I pinch my nose and take a deep breath.
...
"Wel-" Coeus starts. cutting off with a choke when I flood the room with magic, finally not holding back. Perhaps even pushing slightly, just to make a point.
Slowly I put my glass back on, looking over the rim at the children.
"You have no idea what you are asking. Demanding. But, I find myself backed into a corner, due to my own mistakes and your stubbornness. So I will give you your approval, if..."
...
Coeus has to swallow heavily before he manages to speak up, but his voice is defiant.
"If what?"
"If, Iris agrees not to hold me responsible when you die a needless, agonizing, horrific death," I reply, looking towards the girl.
Blinking, she looks back and forth between me and Coeus, and I can see the hesitation.
Scoffing, he gestures at her to go ahead.
"...Ok. That's...fair," she reluctantly agrees, shrinking into herself as I stare at her over my glasses.
"Additionally," I raise a hand when Coeus begins to groan, "I want a promise from all of you. Do not hesitate to contact me. Anytime you need help, if you are in danger...anything."
"Anything you consider reasonable," I correct seeing Coeus's eyes narrow.
...
"Sure, I guess," Coeus agrees.
"...Alright," and Iris.
"Anything, huh?" Phoebe smiles. "Ok."
I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
This is the first step to repairing our relationship, however forced it may be and however terrible the circumstances. This is a good thing.
...
As long as they aren't all consumed in Fiendfyre.
...
And Iris survives whatever malevolence is targeting her until I can work out an actual solution.
"Is she gone?"
"Yes, Door," I reply with a sigh.
"Finally," Door mutters, shifting back and forth until the spare robes covering the Hat fall away.
"Do you really feel the need for," I gesture toward the fallen robes.
"Hah! At the rate they are going through Founder's relics I'd say I have good reason to be concerned! By the time they graduate, I'll be the only one left! But that's not what concerns me..."
"No?" I ask, turning my attention to his stand.
"...I meant it, Dumbledore. Never put me on that girl's head again. Burn me first."
Even thinking about such a thing is...
"The things she showed me? Never again. Never again..."
My brow furrows as I frown.
I know she forced visions of some sort on him, but he has refused entirely to speak of what he saw.
"Door..."
"..."
"You know I would not ask what you see from a student, but you admitted you never actually saw past the visions, never saw her. It could help, to kn-"
"I saw you," he cuts me off and causes me to blink.
"Evil. Stupidly evil. More ridiculously, blatantly, unbelievably evil than anyone I have ever seen or heard of."
No...I...I turned away from that path! What could possibly drive me to-
"Or just stupid. Crazy. Senile. A creepy, omnipotent manipulator...who is actually terrible at it. A respected, beloved hero willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for the "greater good."
Is he...making a list?
"I saw Voldemort. So many Voldemorts. Ours is somewhat odd, but almost all are dark lords. Various versions of insanity and evil, murder, torture, and destruction. Most fail. Some win. Some are "misunderstood."
"I saw Boys and Girls-Who-Lived. And who didn't. Some were amazing. Some were pricks. Some lived fantastical lives. Some were literally tortured. I saw Hagrid fuck a House Elf."
...What?!
"...I spent months there, Dumbledore. The girl? She was throwing me through vision after vision, barely glimpsing each sight...for her. But you know it doesn't work like that for me."
"...Ah."
Finally, I think I understand.
The Sorting Hat can read a persons memories, their nature, their entire life, in moments.
Door's own nature and power worked against him, made the experience orders of magnitude worse. Enough for it to actually effect him, despite everything.
"Months. Years. Decades. Observing mad, impossible worlds. Most of the, alternates, I could at least watch, but some were so broken they would loop, repeating the same scenes over and over, or fragment entirely, displacing me into some other, vaguely related vision."
He shudders before falling silent.
...
"What...What does any of it mean?" I ask.
"It means that girl is dangerous, Dumbledore. Even if she only saw a tiny fraction of what I did, she must be mad. And if she ever pulls that trick on anyone or anything else?"
I don't even attempt to hide my grimace at the thought.
"Another bed in Mungo's. If they are lucky."
Snorting, Door shifts on his stand.
"As for what you actually meant...I don't know. I don't know, and I am not sure I want to. I hope they are just mad visions of a delirious mind..."
"But you don't think so?"
"...The broken, inconsistent worlds, it is hard to imagine as anything else. Others..."
"What ifs? Possibilities, if we had taken a different path? Made a different choice?"
Could Fate remember potentials? Have a record?
"Hmmmmm. Some of them, maybe. But not all. No, not all. Too many differences, fundamental differences, at times."
A slight grimace forms as I release a sigh.
"Xanthas may have been right, then? Those writings on alternate worlds he claimed were Merlin's work..."
If so, the repercussions...
Xanthas also claimed that Merlin's last experiment put the world in danger.
The fact that Merlin disappeared just after said experiment...
A.N.
I really hate writing Dumbledore.
Gryffindor named the Sorting Hat. He also named the Gargoyle Torch, his sword (yes, that sword) Shield, and had a horse named Squire.
Slytherin was not the only Founder to throw a spell or three at him.