A Matter of Black and White

DISCLAIMER: This story is based upon the works of JK Rowling. Anything you recognize is hers. I’m making no money off of this. I’m just having some fun adding my own little corner to the amazing world she has already created.

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CHAPTER 20—An Invitation and a Disappointment

On Sunday morning, Aurora was making plans for her French lessons over her eggs and toast when a decrepit old owl collided into her orange juice. She picked up the soggy scroll that the bird had been carrying and sent him off to the Owlery with a bit of toast. Though she used her wand to dry the parchment, bright orange stains still mingled with a blurred script of French.

The Burrow, le 15 auguste 1996

Chère Aurora,

How are things at Hogwarts? I hope you are not missing Beauxbatons too terribly yet (though I would understand if you were). If you would like a break from all that northern gloom, I have just the thing for you. My Bill and I have tickets to the Zauberflöten concert. Have you heard of them?

Had she heard of them? The Zauberflöten were only one of her favorite glam rock bands of all time! She and her old school friend Marion had made numerous treks to Germany to attend their concerts.

Bill’s brother Charlie was supposed to come with us but has had to back out—something about a Norwegian Ridgeback with a very fiery cough. The concert is at 8:00 on Saturday. Please tell me that we’ll see you then!

Bien amicalement,
Fleur

Aurora’s feet did a little happy dance under the table. This was the best news she had received all week, and she couldn’t get to the Owlery fast enough after breakfast to send an affirmative response to Fleur.

Up in the tower where the birds resided, the school owls were picking the last of the meat off of last night’s prey, while the birds that had just flown in with the post were pecking at the pellets of owl kibble that Hagrid had left up in the tower. Nowhere, though, could she find Lilitu.

Funny, her owl hadn’t come to her chambers this morning either. Usually Lilitu flew in after her nightly hunt to check if her mistress had anything to send. In fact, Aurora had barely seen her bird for the past several weeks.

Aurora went to the open window and surveyed the grounds, wondering where Lilitu might be. It was a rare blue-skied morning, and many songbirds were flitting in and out of the Forbidden Forest. None of them, however, were large enough to be a full-grown barn owl. Then a flash of light caught her eye, and she turned from the Forest to the lake. Far out over the water, she saw a bird of prey swooping through the air, snatching at what looked like flashes of light reflecting off the water. The creature was too far out to tell if it was Lilitu, but Aurora decided to go outside and search for her bird nonetheless.

Once outside, Aurora kept her eyes trained to the sky. It was midmorning now, and the sun was climbing quickly, intent upon making up for all the days in the past weeks in which it had been hidden by clouds. At this point in the day, Lilitu would usually have been cleaning her feathers and preparing for a nap. Aurora walked down the steep slope to the lake and cast her eyes out over the water for her bird. She was just wondering what could be keeping her nocturnal pet from her favorite daytime activity when she spotted something soaring over the other side of the lake—what she could now distinguish was a barn owl, followed by a streak of gold and crimson light.

“It seems your bird is as enchanting as yourself. She has certainly garnered her own fan club.”

Aurora turned and discovered that the Headmaster had suddenly appeared behind her. “Oh, hello, Albus,” she greeted him. “Right now I couldn’t say whether Lilitu is enchanting or not. I’m not even sure if that’s her out there. I can’t imagine what she’d be doing flying around at this hour.

“Oh, I’m quite sure that’s your owl,” Albus answered confidently. “That’s my phoenix out there looping the loop for her.”

“You’re phoenix?” Yes, with a closer look she could see that the streak of colored light was actually a bird with glistening feathers. But how did he know the other one was Lilitu?

“I’ve hardly seen Fawkes since you arrived. I’ll admit I’m a tad jealous. He’s never been interested in his fellow fowl before. I’d wondered why he’d been away from his perch so often until I saw your barn owl pecking at the windowpane last week.”

Aurora watched the two birds perform increasingly daring aerial acrobatics over the lake. Then she recognized Lilitu’s precocious hoot as the owl sped off in an impromptu race toward the castle, leaving Fawkes to chase after her. Lilitu was an efficient messenger owl, but even with her head start, the swift-winged phoenix quickly caught up with her. Then again, Aurora suspected her owl didn’t mind being caught. “A barn owl and a phoenix…” she mused.

Albus’s eyes twinkled. “Opposites do attract, don’t they? Though perhaps we’re forgetting they’re not so dissimilar. They might not be ‘birds of a feather,’ but both do have feathers after all. Whatever their outward differences, I think they prefer each other’s company to our wingless world.”

“Well, I’ve certainly never been much of a flier,” Aurora admitted.

“Ah, your Occlumency teacher will be glad for that,” Albus noted with a twitch of his whiskers. “Severus doesn’t have much patience for star athletes, unless of course they are in Slytherin.”

The two of them watched as Lilitu and Fawkes flew toward them, dovetailing in and out of each other’s flight paths en route to the castle. When the two winged friends were nearly overhead, Aurora called out to her bird, who was remaining blissfully or deliberately oblivious to the two humans below. The pair swooped down to them, the white and gold owl landing on a nearby boulder and the phoenix alighting gracefully atop Albus’s shoulder. Lilitu gave her mistress a pouty hoot like a child having been made to come inside for dinner.

“Don’t worry,” Aurora assured her owl. “This isn’t an international message. You’ll have plenty of time to play with your friend this afternoon.” She tied her response for Fleur to the bird’s leg and watched the owl take off, while Fawkes squawked a plaintive goodbye. “Well, that’s one mystery solved. Now I can get back to my lesson plans. I’ve got some wonderful interdisciplinary classes in the works.”

“One of those wouldn’t happen to be with Muggle Studies, would it?” Albus asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes. It’s going to be wonderful, maybe the best one yet.” She grinned playfully. “Word of a good thing must be traveling fast if you’ve already heard about it.”

“You could say that word has traveled quickly,” Albus said carefully, “through Severus at least.”

“Oh.” If there was one thing that traveled faster than good news, it was bad news.

The Headmaster studied her over his half-moon spectacles. “I’m afraid I have to agree with him, Aurora. It would be inappropriate for you to seem too fond of Muggles at the moment.”

“But this is something the students truly need,” she protested. “How are they supposed to learn to be tolerant of other people—Muggle or magical—if the only world they know is this little island? Besides, I’ve already told Jane I would do it. In fact, I was the one who volunteered in the first place. What am I supposed to tell her?”

Albus sighed. “It won’t be the first disappointment Jane has ever faced.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Treat her like dirt like everyone else does around here?”

The Headmaster passed his withered hand down his face and along the length of this beard, making his face seem especially long and drawn. Fawkes cooed softly and nuzzled the old man’s hair. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made to avoid even greater ones.”

She heard the weariness in his voice but pressed on out of indignation and a niggling recollection of the last time she had heard Albus speaking of sacrifices. “I thought you were a Gryffindor, Albus. You’re sounding awfully Slytherin at the moment.”

“I am Headmaster of the entire school,” he said, the burden of every stone in the castle weighing down each word. “Perhaps I have acquired some of the characteristics of all four houses…good and bad.”

This weary self-revelation from Albus made her falter. In this naked moment of the Headmaster’s uncertainty, Aurora felt her own strength waver. She could no longer pretend that the stakes of their disagreement were merely just what curriculum she would be teaching. “I don’t know if I can do this, Albus,” she admitted softly. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for these spy games, for the Occlumency and the Muggle prejudice. I don’t know if I can just be something I’m not. I’m afraid I’m no good at it.”

She took a few steps toward the water and watched the grey waves lap the rocks. A hundred meters down the shoreline, some of her third years were enjoying the fine day and tossing the remains of their breakfast to the Giant Squid. They spotted her and cried out a greeting. Cognizant that she and Albus were not alone in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds, she threw her students a bright smile and wished them a fine day.

Albus followed suit but then turned his penetrating gaze back to Aurora. “I think you’re better at these games than you give yourself credit for,” he returned. “Perhaps that is what you are truly afraid of.”

Aurora traced a line in the rocky sand with her toe. “Just because I’m not always happy doesn’t mean that I have to make other people unhappy,” she murmured. “But that’s, this,” she motioned vaguely toward the third years, “is not the same. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“The hurt we inflict upon others does tend to come back to hurt ourselves,” he reflected, “Pain can be a debilitating thing.”

How was it that Albus could look into her soul without even using Legilimency? She bit her lip and then changed the topic. “Couldn’t I just say I’m actually doing this for inter-magical relations?” she reasoned. “It’s not like the whole magical world speaks English.”

Albus permitted the sudden shift in conversation, but he continued to speak gravely. “Under ordinary circumstances, Aurora, I’d say that was fair rationale, but given your situation, I cannot allow it in conjunction with a Muggle Studies class.” He stroked Fawkes thoughtfully while she sunk to a nearby boulder. “Now if you were to teach some French independently….”

She turned back toward Albus and caught a twinkle returning to his blue eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking that the school could use a few extracurricular activities besides Quidditch. There’s nothing like keeping the students too preoccupied to commit mischief, wouldn’t you agree?”

A grin spread over Aurora’s face. “I’d be happy to provide the students some diversions. Besides, Severus is always complaining that he’s overworked. If a French Club kept a few wayward students out of detention with him, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Albus chuckled. “I wouldn’t count on Severus appreciating that bit, but I’m sure the students spared from his punishment would.”

They walked amiably back to the castle together. Aurora still wondered how she could break the news of the cancelled Muggle Studies classes to Jane, but at least she had some comfort in knowing that she would still have the opportunity of introducing the students to a new language and culture.

Before Albus headed back to his office, he wished Aurora bon chance with the French Club—proof once again that one didn’t become the most powerful wizard on the planet without knowing a thing or two about the world. She was about to return to her own chambers when he also added, “Oh, and Aurora, you still have my permission to deal with Mr. Harper however you see fit.”

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AN: Sorry, this is another short chapter. I promise the next one is longer and features a surprise for Snape!

Thanks as always to everyone who has reviewed or sent me emails.