(1938-09-08) Magijugend Interview - Cillian
Details for Magijugend Interview - Cillian
Summary: Professor Flint interviews Cillian for the Magijugend.
Date: September 8, 1938
Location: Headmaster's Office

Flint's office is a stark, spartan affair. Unlike many other professors, his space is only sparsely decorated, and even that is primarily framed certificates of his accomplishments, and a single, cracking tapestry made of some kind of animal hide, marked with unintelligible runes. At the knock on his door, his stern, deep voice commands, "Enter and sit down."

The young man who enters the office has grown maybe half an inch, darkened a bit in the tanning influence of the sun and his hair is just long enough that he has to pull it back with a tie to get it neat but he's gone through great pains to make sure his robes aren't…covered with dust and that he's remembered his tie. Cillian enters, hands clasped behind his back and his leather satchel bulging at his side as he gives a little bow and crawls into his seat.

Flint looks up from the large, leather-bound tome spread open on his desk. "Cillian Peele. An unexpected application," he says dryly. "Very well. Tell me why you wish to join the Magijugend."

Cillian bows his head for a moment before narrowing his eye(s) and tapping a finger against his chin, then he clears his throat and looks to Flint with a small smile. "My father, is Beauford Benjamin Peele." And he speaks clearly, no hint of his father's Irish accent in him today, just a rather polished and clear enunciation. "He has spent his life, catering to only those of Pureblood, those willing to learn at their heart the purity of Magical Knowledge and Application, as such you could suggest that the roots of my magical education started in a similar setting to what your new club, or organization seems to be focused on." He purses his lips. "Despite my incorrigible nature and aptitude for freedom of creative expression, I am one of the few young students who find the Magical History to be riveting because it explains from the roots, how we come to be who we are. I have the knowledge of what and when…" A bow of his head. "Now, I desire to know the whys and hows."

The young Gryffindor's speech earns a slight lift of Flint's eyebrow. Amazingly, the man's face doesn't instantly crack and falls apart when his expression changes (and someone probably just lost a bet). After the answers is given, the Professor of Ancient Runes dips his quill into a stone inkwell, and writes in silence for a time before speaking again. "What is your blood status?"

Cillian's head tilts to the side at the question and he just squints for a moment, deep in thought before replying. "My father is a Peele and my other father is a McCreery. It is my bloodright to claim both bloodlines as my own due to the oath they both made to one another before I was born. So the status of my blood, forgive my romantic indulgence Professor, is pure in so much as the magical bond they made when married runs strong in love. That said, beyond that I cannot say. I am the son of a Peele and a McCreery, both magical families."

Flint gives Cillian a heavy-browed glare, then looks down to his book, mumbling, "Half-blood," as he writes. "I imagine you have tedious volumes to say about it, but I shall ask nonetheless. What is your opinion on teaching magic to half-bloods and the Muggle-born?"

"I shall be sure to inform my father of your assessment, seeing he has never seen fit to label me as such - and I do not mean that disrespectfully, Professor." Cillian adjusts himself in his chair and waves a hand vaguely. "My opinion? I am a 12 year old student in a school that sends letters of acceptance to pure, half, and muggle blood and born children, so at some point in our history…based on what I have read, somebody important decided it was crucial to educate all who have the ability to manipulate magic on how to do it properly, to avoid catastrophes caused by ignorance. So my opinion? I would rather be turned into a newt by an angry adept than inflated and accidentally exploded by an overly emotional individual who has no idea how to harness their own abilities."

Flint continues to write in his book all the while that Cillian speaks. Whether he is taking notes, or simply using the book as a reason to ignore the boy, isn't clear. But when Cillian is finishes, and several seconds of silence pass, Professor Flint nods, croaking, "That will be all. You may go."

Cillian bows his head politely and squirms out of his chair, dusting off his robes and make his way out, pausing at the exit to turn and stare at Flint for a few moments as if seeing past him before lowering his eye and slipping out.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License