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"You need not be nervous, Mr. Jackson," Dumbledore said again, his smile kind and reassuring. "As I said, you are off the proverbial hook." He got up from his big chair behind the desk. "Come," he gestured with a hand. "If I remember right, you asked to see my phoenix, Fawkes, properly some time ago, yes?"
Percy's eyes widened with genuine excitement, all thoughts of trouble momentarily forgotten. "Oh, yeah! I did!" He jumped up from his chair and followed the older wizard across the round office towards a tall, ornate golden perch standing near a bookshelf.
Underneath the perch, on a small, clean stone slab, was a heap of soft, grey ashes. Dumbledore gestured to the ashes with a gentle hand, and Percy leaned in close, looking intently.
He gasped softly as, just then, a tiny, bright red chick, no bigger than his thumb, peered out from the center of the ash pile. It let out a sweet, trilling song, looking at both of them with bright, intelligent eyes. Dumbledore smiled fondly down at the little bird, a soft, warm expression on his face, and Percy couldn't help matching his smile. It was an amazing sight.
"Ah, such truly wonderful creatures they are," Dumbledore hummed, his voice full of quiet wonder. "Able to be reborn in the ashes of their own dead body. A new life from the old. Truly a sight to cherish every time."
"It's... it's beautiful," Percy whispered, and he didn't use that word lightly. Not anymore. After seeing five Veela completely naked during that second task trial, the bar for what he considered 'beautiful' was set pretty darn high on that one. But this little firebird, so new and full of life, definitely qualified.
"Hmm," Dumbledore stroked his long, silver beard thoughtfully. "I believe your own wand has a phoenix feather core, yes, Mr. Jackson?"
Percy nodded, reaching for his wand in his pocket almost without thinking. "Yeah, it does. Is it… is it from Fawkes?"
"Oh no, no," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Fawkes here has only ever given two of his tail feathers to be made into wands. One of those, as you may know, lies in the capable hands of young Harry Potter. And the other… well, the other sadly belongs to a man far less deserving of such a loyal companion."
Percy knew that careful, sad tone of voice. He'd heard it before when Dumbledore talked about certain dark things. "Voldemort," he said quietly, the name tasting like ash in his mouth.
"Ah, I see you have picked up Harry's bravery for speaking that name, Mr. Jackson," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling a little more brightly. "Very good, very good indeed. The fear of a name, as you surely know, only increases the fear of the person himself."
"Believe me, Professor," Percy said, his own eyes narrowing slightly as he remembered the cold dread the name 'Kronos' could bring, the way it could chill a room full of demigods, "I know exactly how powerful a name can be."
Fawkes, the little chick, chirped again then, a cheerful, bright sound that drew Percy out of his darker thoughts. The demigod smiled and reached out a finger, gently scratching the tiny bird's warm head. The chick leaned into his touch, trilling happily.
"I asked Mr. Ollivander, our finest wandmaker, about your wand's core after you arrived," Dumbledore spoke again, his voice thoughtful as he watched Percy and Fawkes. "It is rare to see a wielder choose a phoenix feather core, and rarer still to see someone win its true allegiance in a matter of mere months, as you seem to have done. It is a rare event, Mr. Jackson, because of the very nature of the creature the feather is obtained from. Such freedom, such wild spirit, is rarely given up or tamed easily by a wand. I believe your particular feather," Dumbledore continued, "was obtained from a magnificent phoenix often seen soaring over the Greek islands. It is claimed by some to be the ancient guardian of those islands. Mr. Ollivander searched for this legendary bird for many, many years, finding only three of its tail feathers for all his dedicated efforts."
Percy chuckled, shaking his head. 'A Greek phoenix, of course it was Greek. Figures.' "So what happened to the other two feathers from that phoenix?" he asked, curious.
"They lay waiting patiently in Mr. Ollivander's dusty shop to this very day, waiting for their proper owner to come along," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. "Who knows, Mr. Jackson? Perhaps one day, your own children may come to claim them." The old wizard chuckled softly at the thought.
The idea of having kids, of being a dad, made Percy blush a bright red. Whoa. Too soon. Way too soon. 'Note to self,' he thought frantically, 'find a good, reliable contraceptive spell. Or, failing that, figure out how to make one. Quickly.'
"So..." Percy cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to less embarrassing topics. "What's all this really about, Professor? The phoenix, the talk about wands?"
"Pardon me?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head slightly.
"I mean," Percy said, shifting his weight, "I've been in this exact kind of situation many times before, with powerful adults talking in circles. You usually want something else, Headmaster, something more than just a friendly chat about magical birds. What is it?"
"You are very direct, Mr. Jackson," Dumbledore observed, a small smile playing on his lips. "An admirable quality, I find. I confess, in my old age, I often find myself talking by telling stories to pass the time, or perhaps to gently lead to a point. I do apologize if that was the case here."
Percy shrugged. "It's fine. I'm kind of used to it, sir. From… other teachers."
"Well then," Dumbledore said, his smile fading slightly, his expression becoming more serious. "Let me start with a more direct question. Just what are you, Mr. Jackson?"
Percy raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to be a lot more specific than that, Professor."
"No ordinary wizard, no student, could do what you did in the Great Hall today," Dumbledore said, stroking his long silver beard slowly. His twinkling blue eyes grew less so, sharper, and a subtle sense of immense power seemed to settle over his stance, making him seem taller, more imposing.
"A few very powerful, adult wizards might boast of such a feat of raw power. And I know of only one man in recent history who could control an element like that, with such precision and without a wand."
"Who?" Percy asked, genuinely curious.
"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said, his eyes narrowing, the name spoken like a stone dropping into a deep well.
Percy looked completely confused. "Who? Tom who?"
"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore repeated. "I suppose you would know him better by his other, more famous name: Lord Voldemort."
"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Percy blinked, his brain trying to catch up. "His real name... Voldemort's real name... is Tom?" He stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. "Seriously? Tom? Like, Tommy? Or Thomas the Tank Engine?" He couldn't help the last bit.
Dumbledore blinked back, a flicker of surprise, maybe even amusement, in his own eyes. "Ah... yes. Tom Marvolo Riddle, to be precise."
"Woah..." Percy breathed out, shaking his head. "No wonder he changed it. 'Lord Voldemort' sounds way scarier." He shivered slightly. 'So weird,' he thought. 'It's like finding out Kronos's real name was Greg or something. Or maybe Bartholomew. Totally takes away from the super evil overlord vibe.'
"So, wait," Percy said, getting back to the point, "let me get this straight. You think I'm Tommy? That I'm Voldemort?"
"No, Mr. Jackson, I do not think that," Dumbledore said calmly. "You wouldn't be able to be as close to Harry as you clearly are if you were him. Harry would sense it. What I wish to know, what I need to know, is who you truly are." Serious Dumbledore was definitely back now, his gaze piercing.
"I have seen your official records, Mr. Jackson. Or rather, the lack of them. There is almost nothing about you until shortly before you came to Hogwarts. Even in America, there are only a few faint mentions of a Percy Jackson, and all of them are barely there, like shadows, not enough for a real person to exist so quietly."
"You... you were spying on me?" Percy blinked, feeling a flash of anger and betrayal.
"I was doing my necessary research," Dumbledore argued gently but firmly. "And after what I saw today, the power you wielded, I believe my concerns were warranted. Just who are you, Mr. Jackson? And why are you really here at Hogwarts?"
"I am Percy Jackson," Percy stated, his own eyes narrowing now, meeting Dumbledore's serious gaze without flinching. "And I'm here to learn magic. Do you really think I am some kind of threat to your school, Professor?"
"No, not necessarily a threat," Dumbledore conceded. "But I do believe you are a very powerful player on this chessboard, Mr. Jackson. A new piece, an unknown one. And such pieces need to be watched over carefully, especially in times like these."
"You're sounding less and less like a school headmaster and more like a general planning a war, sir," Percy observed, his voice level.
"I have been both, at one point in my long life," Dumbledore nodded, a shadow of old memories in his eyes. "Neither title is one I particularly enjoy, but they were given to me nonetheless by circumstances."
"So tell me then, General Dumbledore," Percy pressed, "what war are you expecting to fight?"
"The war against the returned Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore stated simply, his voice grim.
Percy nodded slowly. "So you believe Harry then? About Voldemort being back?"
"Yes, I do," Dumbledore confirmed. "Do you, Mr. Jackson?"
"Yeah," Percy said without hesitation. "Bad guys, especially the really powerful ones, have a nasty way of coming back from the dead when you least expect it."
"And how would you know this, Mr. Jackson?" Dumbledore asked, one silver eyebrow raising slightly.
"Personal experience," Percy said flatly. Dumbledore just kept looking at him. Percy sighed. "Come on, Professor, you don't really think Tommy Boy is the only super-powered bad guy running around in the whole world, do you? I did have a life, a pretty eventful one, before I ever came here, you know."
"A life shrouded in mystery and unanswered questions," Dumbledore pointed out.
"I have my right to privacy, Professor," Percy stated firmly, not backing down.
"Indeed you do, Mr. Jackson. Indeed you do," Dumbledore sighed, and the feeling of battle, of interrogation, lessened in the room, like a storm cloud passing. "I do apologize. I merely wished to find some answers to my many questions. My methods were perhaps… too direct."
Percy nodded, relaxing slightly. "Right... so? What now? Are you going to kick me out of Hogwarts, Professor?"
"No, Mr. Jackson, I do not believe that will be necessary," Dumbledore said, a small chuckle escaping him. "I believe you can stay, for now." The twinkle was back in his eyes.
"Although, I must warn you, do try to keep on Professor Snape's good side, if at all possible. The man, despite his… demeanor, actually respects your magical talents, even if he would never admit it. It wouldn't do to irk him further than you already have."
Percy thought about Snape's greasy hair and constant sneer. "No promises on that front, Professor," he said with a wry grin. "But I'll try. Maybe."
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If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters you could take a visit on my patreon Or check it out.
http://patreon.com/SageOf016