(1938-10-01) Magijugend Interview - Celes
Details for Magijugend Interview - Celes
Summary: Celes meets with Headmaster Flint about joining the Magijugend.
Date: October 1, 1938
Location: Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
Related: Plot: For the Greater Good

Celes is on the verge of hyperventilating as she climbs stairs to the headmaster's office. She put in a letter to join a club that sounded interesting, a club she interpreted as being about history. Recent rumors have made her question this belief. Still, perhaps rumor is wrong, she isn’t going to be scared off that easy, she is a Gryffindor after all. As she approaches the top of the stairs, she stiffens her back. Having never been to the headmaster’s office, she isn’t sure what to expect but she will be brave.

Compared to his previous office, Headmaster Flint's new arrangement is a palace. Though he has removed many of the decorations in favour of a more stark and simple design, there can simply be no removing of the many paintings adorning the space. The residents of those paintings, the Headmasters of Hogwarts past, simply wouldn't stand for it. A few of those portraits gaze down on the newly arrived Celes, including a face much more familiar than the rest: Armando Dippet, recently removed Headmaster and current "guest" of Durmstrang Institute. Dippet clears his throat, which the stony-faced Gervase Flint seems to take as a signal, glancing up from behind his desk. Headmaster Flint jabs a finger at an empty seat across from him. "Sit. I'll be with you momentarily." He seems to be presently occupied with a scroll unfurled on the desktop. The scroll is so long that the top end of it has tumbled down to the floor, making quite visible its contents. It appears to be a list of student names, followed by one of three designations: "Pure-blood", "Half-blood", or "Muggle-born".

Mouth suddenly dry, Celes does as she’s told and quickly sits. It’s a relief to get her weight off her suddenly tingling feet and weak knees. She folds her hands in her lap to hide their slight tremble. She looks at the lists just long enough to see the subject, then quickly redirects her attention to the paintings on the wall. Not that that helped. The list tied her stomach in knots, but the portraits serve to make her feel small, unimportant, and way out of her depth. Nervously, she licks her lips, trying to avoid croaking when she is has to speak.

Most of the portraits seem to be sleeping, or absent entirely. Those remaining that are awake look on with varied expressions of curiosity, stern appraisal, warm smiles, and casual indifference. After a few minutes of silence, Headmaster Flint begins rolling up the scroll and finally looks up to Celes. "Miss Dashur, isn't it? Yes, I've looked over your letter of interest. Interesting. Tell me why you wish to join the Magijugend." With the scroll furled, he slips it into a brass scroll case covered in runes, twisting on an endcap which seals itself with a sound that resembles a sudden intake of breath. With a gesture of his wand, a large, leatherbound tome flies from a bookshelf to his hand, and his cracks it open on the desktop, flipping through pages.

Celes jumps a little when she’s finally spoken to, her eyes snapping down from the decor to the headmaster. Her fingers fidget nervously as she takes a deep calming breath, “Yes sir, uh professor, well, it sounded interesting. The club is for learning about magic, the magical world, and magical history from the point of view of, and focusing on the pure blood side, right? I think that’s a really important point of view.” She says, struggling to properly explain her interest. “Like learning about Mayan culture, traditions, and history from a Mayan.”

Flint stares across the desk at the young girl, his gaze unblinking and chilly. He takes up a quill, dipping it into a stone inkwell, and begins writing in the tome before him. "That is part of what the Magijugend is for, yes. To gain an understanding of the true nature of magic and wizardkind." He looks up sharply at her, asking lazily, "What is your blood status, child?"

Celes nods enthusiastically to his description, “Yes, exactly, it sounds so interesting.” His next question kills her enthusiasm and makes her swallow. She was worried this question would come up. “Sir, I don’t really know. I never really knew my father, but stories, in retrospect, make me think he was a wizard. I’ve tried to find out more about him, but I haven’t had much luck. Dashur might not have been his real last name. Like my first name, it’s Albanian. Dashur meaning dear, like Celes means key. I think it might have been fake. He could have been a… I don’t know, a Goyle for all I know.” She swallows again, “So… I think I’m half, but I don’t know for sure.”

The Headmaster makes a throaty grunting sound as he jots down a few more notes in his book. "A matter to be investigated. Every witch should know the purity of her own blood." He sets down the quill, folding his hands on the desk before him. "I suspect I already know your answer, but I shall ask nonetheless. What is your opinion on teaching magic to half-bloods and the Muggle-born?"

Celes nods solemnly. “It’s something I would dearly like to know more about.” She says. His next question, however catches her up short. “It’s mandatory, isn’t it? I’ve heard magically gifted children being raised by ungifted parents don’t get to choose not to be taught. Not just for the safety of themselves and those around them, but for the security of the magical world. Every uncontrolled magical outburst is a chance for discovery. Training them, us, prevents that, and instills a sense of loyalty to the magical community.” She pauses for moment, giving the subject a little thought before going on, “But I have concerns about it, if I’m going to be honest. There is an awful lot of cross cultural contamination going on that I’ve seen. The Hogwarts express is a good example. A train is cool and all, but I’ve wondered what a magical world, insulated from muggle technology and culture, might have come up with. I’m grateful to be here sir, please don’t misunderstand, and I’m doing my best to assimilate, but I do sometimes worry my presence is detrimental. It would be a tragedy for the magical world to lose its cultural identity. ” She finishes, heart pounding with the amount of courage she had to expend in giving voice to her views.

Flint stares back at Celes in silence, his stony visage seeming at first to harden. But then there is a twitch of his eyebrow, and a slight lift of his chin as he leans back in his tall chair. "Most interesting," he comments. What comes next would be disconcerting to most any student who has ever taken one of Professor Flint's classes. It is an unprecedented thing at Hogwarts. Flint…smiles. "I believe your inclusion in the Magijugend would be a very interesting experiment, young Miss Dashur." He reaches into a desk draw, withdrawing a parchment which he slides across the table toward Celes. The document is written in bold, unadorned script, and the edges of the page bear a series of runic markings. "Read this," he says, withholding the quill for the moment. "If you still 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.

Celes feels equal parts excitement and worry at her apparent acceptance. She takes document without further comment, afraid of jinxing herself. Her golden brown eyes trace the words written upon the parchment. Her brows slowly begin to knit together in worry as she goes, especially at the part about her wand. Still, she’s come too far to back down now. Pulling out her unicorn hair wand, she hesitantly places it on the desk before taking up the quill and signing her name. Her nervous eyes look up questioningly when she’s finished, as if hoping for reassurance.

Only when her wand is firmly in his hand does Flint release the quill to her. As she lifts the tip of the quill from the final stroke of her signature, the ink lights up in a bright orange glow, then fades back to black. He meets her eyes, giving her a firm nod, and from the drawer he took the contract from, he takes out a thin iron ring. He slides the ring down the length of Celes's wand, just above the grip. There is a faint hissing sound as the ring contracts, gripping firmly to the wood. Nodding with grim satisfaction, he sets the wand down on the desk in front of her, claiming the parchment in the process. "Very good. Welcome to the Magijugend. Seeing as you are now one of us, we shall immediately begin looking into your lineage. I suggest you write down everything that you know about your parentage, and give it to me. If there is truth to be uncovered, we shall learn of it."

The young Gryffindor can’t help but feel a little queasy. She swallows against the tightness in her throat and nods, “I would very much appreciate the help.” She says, voice a little hoarse. The display of magic in the signing, and the reaction of the ring on her wand makes her wonder if she signed more than she thought she did. Her eyes fall to her wand, and she slowly reaches out to take it back, expecting a shock, or for the wand to be extremely hot or cold.

Other than the ring, which is so light that the weight difference is negligible, the wand seems to be in perfectly normal condition. Flint's smile has faded to a mild smirk of amusement, perhaps noting her trepidation. "Mmmhm. One more thing." From the drawer comes one final item; on a chain, a silver pendant in the shape of a triangle surrounding a circle, both bisected by a vertical line. "Wear this over your uniform. When the other Magijugend see it, they will know you are one of them. Now be on your way. The club will meet soon, and I do expect you to be there." As abruptly as that, his attention returns to the piles of work on his desk, and she may as well be invisible.

Celes’s eyes widen in delight at the sight of the necklace. She doesn’t recognize the symbol, but it and the chain are really pretty. Despite being in Gryffindor, she’s always preferred silver to gold. “Thank you, I will.” She says, suiting action to word and immediately putting it over her head and arranging it on her chest. Apparently dismissed, she gets up and walks out of the office, only looking over her shoulder once before heading down.

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