(1938-09-11) Magijugend Interview - Angelus
Details for Magijugend Interview - Angelus
Summary: Professor Flint interview Angelus for the Magijugend.
Date: September 11, 1938
Location: Headmaster's Office
Related:
Characters
FlintAngelus

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, "Come in and sit."

Whatever joking, boasting, or mischievousness Angelus shows to his fellow students are simply gone as he walks up to the office. The youth is neatly dressed in his uniform, and even takes a moment outside to drop to one knee to polish off a scuff mark on his shoe with his thumb. After the response from the professor at his knock, Angelus politely greets with a dip of his head, "Sir." Upon the invitation, he moves over to take a seat.

Flint lifts his gaze from the great, leather-bound tome spread open on the desk before him. He squints at Angelus, examining the boy. "Angelus Eibon," he says, not really to Angelus, so much as about him as he puts his quill to the tome, writing as he speaks. "Tell me, boy. Why do you wish to join the Magijugend?"

Angelus curiously glances at the book before returning his blue eyes to focus on the professor. He takes a second to consider his words carefully before he answers, "'An interest in the history of the our families," he decides, but only a second after he finishes he adds in, "And a club is a great idea to share commons interests."

Flint nods, making a note in his book. "The history of the pure bloodlines is vital," he comments quietly, before jumping right into the next question. "What is your blood status?"

Angelus nods in acknowledgment, and cants his head a little as he watches Professor Flint write in the book. An eyebrow arches inquisitively, but he simply ends up shrugging and glancing around the room. He regards the tapestry briefly before he's turning his gaze back onto the professor when the question is asked. There's a weak twitch of his lips, turning what had started out as an amused smirk into a simple smile. "My Pa- Father," he corrects himself, "says that our line goes way back. But I'd like to know more than I do right now." He thinks silently as he finishes, considering. "I don't mean to say anything I shouldn't," he carries on, "but forgive me, sir, if I do." Clearly Angelus is a bit aware of the questions, because he jumps into saying, "If we focused more on teaching wizards who already know about magic, wouldn't we learn faster instead of having to wait on those who don't?" He watches Professor Flint, hoping that he doesn't fall victim to a lecture.

Flint lifts his stony eyes to Angelus, the crags in his face seeming to deepen in displeasure. "That is not what I asked you, boy," he says sternly. "Your blood status. Are you pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born?"

Well, at least he's not being scolded. Angelus lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. Alright - he won't ask again. "Eibon, sir, is all pure-blood," he says, as if even professors should know. "All of us."

Flint glares across at Angelus with an unforgiving gaze. "If only that were true. It seems you are in need of education about your family." He pauses to make a few more notes in the book before finally asking the question Angelus seemed to try to answer in advance. "Now then, without further frivolous distraction, what is your opinion on teaching magic to half-bloods and the Muggle-born?"

Angelus frowns when he's caught in a bit of a lie. He turns his head, giving the door an offended and annoyed glance as his thoughts wander towards his cousins. "Oh," he murmurs quietly and sighs. "My uncle…" He pauses and develops a perplexed look, seemingly thinking before he lifts his blue eyes to the professor - which he inwardly regrets looking into the intimidating gaze. So what he was about to ask is quieted, and instead he says on a sigh, "I don't understand it. Why would someone settle for…" He trails off from his rather honest thought process and frowns at himself. "There shouldn't be half-bloods," he answers seemingly without thinking he quickly adds in, "Should there?" Angelus sighs and shakes his head, answering his own question. As for Muggle-born, he hesitates a second, watching Professor Flint. He won't dock points if he's honest, will he? The youth draws in a breath and answers, "I'd prefer if we could leave them out of it." He lifts his shoulders a little, shifting in his chair.

Flint makes a sort of creaking noise in his throat as he makes more notes in his tome. "Mmmhmm." He sets down his quill, and reaches into a desk drawer, producing a piece of parchment. He slides it across the desk, in front of Angelus. It is written in bold, unadorned script, and the edges of the page bear a series of runic markings. "Read that," he commands gruffly. "If you wish to sign it, hand me your wand."

The contract reads: I, the undersigned, hereby assert that magic is, and always has been, the sole purview of wizardkind. Furthermore, I promise to stand by my assertion and defend true witchcraft and wizardry against all that would corrupt and dilute it. I swear to always act to protect my fellow Magijugend and promote our mutual interests, and never to reveal our secrets to those not among us. May my wand break with my word, should I prove false. I do this for the greater good.

Angelus is somewhat relieved that no points have been taken, but he frowns and lets out a sigh. He really isn't that happy with the professor's strict presence, kind of put out by it. Everyone is supposed to like him! Didn't he get the memo? Ahem. Angelus eyes the tome again curiously before he looks downward at the parchment. He reads slowly, his hand tucking into his robes as it edges towards his wand, but he takes a few moments to consider this. In the end, he decides that it shouldn't be a problem, nodding his head as he offers Professor Flint his wand.

Flint reaches boldly for the wand as if to snatch it away, but he takes it gently, and even offers Angelus a hint of something that might one day evolve into a smile. In the wand's place, he offers his quill to Angelus, sliding over a stone inkwell so the lad can reach it. Reaching into his drawer again, he takes out a thin iron ring, and slides it down the length of Angelus' wand, just above the grip. With a light hissing sound, the ring contracts, hugging the wood firmly.

Angelus takes the quill, but the tip hovers over the parchment as his eyes watch what the professor is doing instead with an interested lift of his brow. The wand's handle has clearly been added onto the wand itself to make it look more elegant and worthy for him. With a shake of his head that brings him back, the youth lowers his head and signs in a not completely neat, but readable and quick signature.

The moment Angelus lifts this quill from his final stroke, the signature glows bright orange, as if burning, then fades back to black. Flint's face looks as if it might crack apart as an actual smile forms, showing off his wide set of pearly white teeth. "Welcome to the Magijugend, young Eibon. I am sure that you will make a fine member." He rises, and presents Angelus wand in ceremonial fashion as, with his other hand, he retrieves the freshly signed contract, placing it in a pile with several other parchments that are identical, save for the various signatures.

The moment Angelus lifts this quill from his final stroke, the signature glows bright orange, as if burning, then fades back to black. Flint's face looks as if it might crack apart as an actual smile forms, showing off his wide set of pearly white teeth. "Welcome to the Magijugend, young Eibon. I am sure that you will make a fine member." He rises, and presents Angelus wand in ceremonial fashion, along with a silver pendant in the shape of a triangle encompassing a circle, both bisected by a line down the center. With his other hand, he retrieves the freshly signed contract, placing it in a pile with several other parchments that are identical, save for the various signatures.

Angelus dips his head respectfully to the professor. "Thank you, sir," he says. His mouth is struggling to keep from grinning wide. He tries to keep a more neutral smile, but when he reaches for his wand he can't help but tilt his head a bit proudly. His lips twitches with a satisfied smile, actually pretty thrilled to be accepted even if a part of him didn't' expect trouble despite his cousins. The pendant is taken with another polite thank you. When he stands, dipping his head respectfully again. "May I leave now, sir?" he asks courteously for his dismissal first before he'd head out.

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