Personal Experiences | Self-Para
Tagged: Roderick Meeks (self-para for aghprompt16)
When: May 22, Afternoon
Where: Professor Rogers’ office
Notes: Roderick meets with Professor Rogers for some routine career counselling and gets rather more counselling than he counted on.
“So… Roderick.” Steve Rogers smiled a white-toothed, beaming grin, looking at him like a favourite nephew. “Come on in and have a seat.”
Roderick was stunned that Rogers remembered his name. True, he’d had a fair handful of conversations with his head of house over the years, but so had most students, and Roderick generally didn’t expect people to retain any information about him at all. He shuffled inside and lowered himself gingerly into a carved oak chair facing Rogers’ desk. He was always nervous in this room. Rogers was godlike in looks and in manner, and kind of Roderick’s hero.
Professor Rogers had a file in his hands labelled ‘Meeks, Roderick Ian.’ It was surprisingly thick. Roderick knew why. No incidents of disciplinary action, beyond one or two detentions from mean-spirited teachers, but it contained multiple notes about incidents of bullying. It would probably make for a depressing read, Roderick reflected.
“Before we start I just want to congratulate you on the Frog Choir third place medal,” said Rogers, his smile softening into something very sincere. “And… You’ve really come out of your shell this year. I’m proud of you.”
Roderick smiled into his collar, almost overwhelmed. “…Thank you.”
Rogers opened up the folder and began to sift through it. “Your marks are fairly good across the board, but they seem to be best in theory-heavy courses.”
“I’m in my head a lot,” said Roderick, with an apologetic little wince.
“That’s fine, Roderick, there’s nothing wrong with it. But based on what your professors say, it’s not the actual wandwork so much as the practical exams that give you trouble.”
“Anxiety.”
Rogers offered him a sympathetic glance. “If there’s ever anything I can do to help…”
“It’s okay. I’m dealing with it.”
“Good man. You’ve put up with a lot over the years. I have faith in your ability to cope.” Professor Rogers had to be the only human being capable of putting such a positive spin on the experience of being bullied, but Roderick couldn’t help feeling that he wasn’t wrong, now that he thought about it – he had put up with a lot, and even if he hadn’t come out wholly unscathed, he could still face up to a lot of things with the knowledge that he’d gone through worse in grade school.
“So – have you given any thought to what you’d like to do? I know you still have lots of time left, but it’s a good time to start thinking about which classes to take. You’re strong in theory, so… maybe Arithmancy might be for you, or Divination?” Rogers cracked his million-dollar grin. “It’s not all as flakey as it can seem, I promise. The Department of Mysteries has a lot of openings right now, though admittedly none of the job postings exactly say what they’re hiring for…”
Roderick frowned in thought. “Well, I… The thing is, I… want to work in music.” Instinctively his hands moved to the headphones around his neck. “It’s the thing I’ve always cared most about.”
“Music’s a very competitive set of industries,” said Rogers, with a tone that was not critical or discouraging – merely honest.
“I know – and I don’t care if I’m doing it in the wizard or Muggle world, it makes no difference to me, Muggleborn and all – I just want to always be around great music.” It took effort, because Rogers had always, always been a bit of a hero for him, but Roderick forced himself to meet Professor Rogers’ eyes so it would be clear that he was serious about this, and willing to put in whatever work it took.
“Aaaare you thinking performance, or production?” Again, the question was open, nonjudgmental, but Roderick could sense an unspoken addendum there. But.
“I’m not sure,” he answered, honestly. “I’ve thought hard about radio. I mean, I know a lot about music, and I think I have good taste.”
“You’re a bit of a throwback, I hear.”
Roderick nodded, smiled. “Blues, Soul and Rock’n’Roll. I could tailor it to modern audiences, throw in a little old-school flavour. Deejay a Muggle station, or the WWN.”
“There’s other wizarding radio stations too, lots of them. I could make you a list, if it would help.”
Roderick nodded. “I think I could get the radio patter down with a bit of practice. I’m well-spoken enough with people I’m comfortable with, and on air nobody’s looking at you, I’ve recorded myself plenty and felt pretty comfortable with it. It’d be… satisfying.”
“You don’t sound like it’d be your top choice,” pointed out Rogers.
“No, that’d be performing.”
This was the difficult part. He’d only begun performing this past year, and… he already knew that aside from kissing Jane Hayward, which unfortunately he could not get paid to do all day, performing onstage was the greatest thrill he had ever experienced or imagined he could experience. It was addictively joyful. As a child he had dreamed – the sort of dreams of people who don’t even let themselves hope they’ll come true – of one day being a touring artist, writing his own songs, selling albums, having legions of fans who cried his name, just like the musicians who were his idols and only friends. But. But.
“You do have an incredible voice,” said Rogers, warmly. “I’ve never heard that kind of tone from anyone your age. Heck, they didn’t even have that in my day. It’s Marvin Gaye with a modern spin. You’re certainly a gifted performer and I think your chances of getting into somewhere like WADA are good.”
Again Roderick had to glance to the ground, overwhelmed and embarrassed. He was being praised by his hero, it was the best compliment he could ever ask for – and yet that whisper of doubt was still present. “And yet,” he supplied, hoping to prompt his head of house into saying what he obviously didn’t want to say.
A crease had appeared between Rogers’ brows. “Well. From what I’ve seen you’re quite introverted…”
Roderick shrugged. “I can switch that off somehow when I’m onstage. It’s… actually, it’s kind of the only time I feel like I belong in my own skin, if that makes any sense.” No, introversion was not the thing Rogers wasn’t going to mention. Roderick bit the bullet. “I’m just kind of concerned that it’s a really image-conscious industry and… Well. My weight might be a bit of a disadvantage.”
He hated saying it, but if ever there was a time to think pragmatically, without a shred of sentiment, it was now.
“No it wouldn’t,” said Rogers, almost as if it were a knee-jerk reaction. The crease between his brows deepened. “Take it from me, Roderick, I’ve been there. People might look at you and decide that you don’t meet some standard, that you can’t do something. You can’t listen to them.” He’d grabbed ahold of Roderick’s arm, in a very strong grip. If it had been anyone other than Steve Rogers, Roderick might have been afraid. But the look in his blue eyes was so painfully earnest. “Your physical strengths and weaknesses are not you. If you want something badly enough – if your spirit is true, if your heart is totally invested – people will see that in you. And good things will come to you.”
Roderick, who’d spent his entire childhood waiting in vain for someone to see the good heart in him instead of fixating on ‘physical failings’, gave Professor Rogers a dubious look. Good things like a serum from a government lab that magically gives me abs? He wondered, but did not voice it for fear of being a cheeky little shit.
But Rogers seemed to take the point, even if it hadn’t been said. He released Roderick’s arm, softening. “If you have the talent, nobody’s going to care about the rest. And I know you do. So really, Roderick, if that’s all that’s standing in your way, I’m going to be very disappointed if I don’t see you on a stage not too long after you graduate.”
Roderick was silent for a moment. “Can I have some time to think about it?” he asked carefully, after a moment.
“Of course,” said Rogers, who only now seemed to remember that this was supposed to be a careers advice interview. “Of course, you have three years left to think about this, don’t rush yourself… And I’m sorry if I got a little… intense just now.” Professor Rogers’ laugh had something wistful in it. “I shouldn’t let my personal experiences influence my advice to you. I just remember being the sickly kid who always failed the military entrance fitness exams and how awful it was to think that I couldn’t serve my country because of something out of my control. Something that still managed to really feel like it was my fault. But in the end it didn’t hold me back. So just… don’t let it, okay? Don’t ever let it stop you.”
Roderick nodded. For one crazy moment he wanted to hug the man for making him feel slightly less alone. Then the moment passed, and they were once more a student and a teacher meeting in an office. Rogers shook Roderick’s hand. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” And Roderick left with his head full of fresh questions.
