(1939-01-30) Meeting the Newest Muggle-Born
Details for Meeting the Newest Muggle-Born
Summary: A young man's existence as a muggle-born wizard is revealed, but circumstances leave cause for extraordinary measures to be taken to introduce him to wizarding society, even before his invitation to Hogwarts would arrive.
Date: 30 January, 1939
Location: Troy Manor
Related:
Characters
Cassiel

The Troy estate, when one approaches for the first time, strikes as three things- sprawling, isolated and immaculately upkept. At any given point in time, granted daylight, workers labor to keep the grounds in perfect condition. The mansion itself is grand in that wonderfully classical sense, and just vaguely welcoming without dispelling the notion that any welcomed within its walls were privileged.

Inside is much the same, and it becomes clear quickly that the child- James V- is treated in similar fashion to the grounds- tended by servants and kept in immaculate condition. He is available far sooner than either parent, and so is brought to the sitting room where the visitors are waiting in the company of a few of the more presentable servants.

For his part, James turns his eyes on each and every member of the party camped out in his sitting room. He's dressed in tailored slacks and a crisp Oxford shirt with a twill vest and suspenders. His eyes are sharp, and carry the judgmental edge that Cassiel has seen all too often in the eyes of the pure-blooded- and which he knows will not serve the boy well in his transition.

The trio that came to visit him are… odd, to say the least. Each is dressed in finery of a sort… but they all seem vaguely out of place. The one sitting foremost, with the other two standing behind him, seems to be in charge. Cassiel, they called him, a name straight out of Christian mythology. He was perhaps the oddest of the trio, with not one, nor two, but three coats layered atop each other (beige, brown, and black respectively, a black silk vest underneath with a gold chain leading to a pocket-watch, a white silk blouse underneath, and a black tie. Black slacks and shined boots finish the ensemble, with the exception of a black, conical hat which would cover longish, curly black hair were he wearing it, although it would do nothing to hide his friendly muttonchops.
The two behind him are also oddly dressed, the woman with shockingly purple hair done up in a stark bun, and a floral-print dress, and the man, looking about three sizes too big for the sharp business suit he wears… complete with bow tie.
Cassiel smiles, finally, as he has a chance to greet the boy, taking in his own reaction, "Good evening, Master James, tis a pleasure to finally meet you."

James turns from one to the other. He spends a few moments staring at the peaked hat, the incredible contrast between ridiculous hair color and stern style, and the man too large for his suit. Finally, he turns towards Cassiel. The name is odd, yes, but Christian none the less. "Mister Cassiel, was it?" His demeanor seems to relax a touch as soon as he's addressed so. "No need to coddle me. Master James is my father. James will do." Another glance about the group. "Where did you say you were from, again?"

There's a thin smile that crosses the man's features, "Well, James, I would be glad to, and in private company you may call me Cay," the c is hard. "Although most you'll find refer to me as Umbridge, my surname."
Then with a smile, he looks to the two behind him, and then to the servants still in the room. The two stand, and slowly make their way around the room, whispering to each of the servants, pulling of all things sticks out of their suits, and then those present go a bit glassy-eyed.
"Well, to answer that, James, I have a question for you. Have you ever found that… strange things sometimes happen around you, especially during times of emotional upset? Doors and cupboards slamming closed?. Electronic," he sounds out the word, as if honestly unfamiliar with it, "devices sometimes breaking, falling apart, or failing when you get near? Things falling off tables, shelves, and the like, when no one is near them?"

The question sets the boy on edge. "You're talking about the bridge thing. We already told people that it just got shaken by the wind. It never broke." The boy isn't a particularly talented liar- he's never need to be. His defensiveness, his body language, all pronounces that he's had something exactly like Cassiel's describing happen.

"Well, that, and others, James." A grin. "One of the aspects of what you're experiencing, what you are, is that without training, certain things will happen out of instinct. Some harmless, others not so much. And that's why we're here, and why we came to talk to you. Because of who we are. What we are. And what you are, James."
He smiles, motioning a hand around the room as all of those present not intended to be part of this portion of the conversation just stand there, mystified. "You see, James, I'm a Wizard."

The comment draws an immediate reaction. Disbelief, disdain, and- on their heels- the rather shocked realization that the explanation is far more reasonable than the idea that the remarkably sharp-witted young boy had misremembered so many things. His parents had started referring to his "memory problem" some years back, and he'd taken it all for granted with several irritating grains of salt.
"Is that why the help's gone dumber than usual? And why you all look so odd?

There's a chuckle that follows the boy's statement, "Yes. We've mesmerized them, so they won't recall this conversation. My two associates here will give them memories before we go of a pleasant conversation about a lovely preparatory boarding school that you'll have the extreme luck of being asked to join. Which isn't far from the truth. Perhaps just a few steps to the side of it, really."
"And if we look odd, well… consider how you must look to us? Muggles… that's what we call people who come from the mundane world… are just as strange in their manner of dress, culture, and all that to us. We try to acclimate, but when you grow up wearing robes, well." A smile, "And that's the best part. You're one of us. A Muggle-born, we call you. My associate here," he points to the one with the purple hair, "we call a half-blood, because her father was a wizard and married a Muggle. And I am what we call a Pure-blood… someone whose family has had magic for many generations."

James nods. The concept carries pretty easily. It leaves him grinning, though. "So you've got families of wizards, and then there's people like me, who just develop the- potential, talent, whatever- all on our own?" He seems to like the idea just fine. The concept that he'd manifested in himself something most people had to be born to? Oh, it suited James just fine.

The subtleties of that dynamic, however, that would be a topic for another day. Cassiel nods, however, "Precisely. I'm actually from one of the Greater Families, myself… can trace my lineage back over fifteen generations. So, yes… a bit like your families in a way." A smile, "We don't understand why a Muggle pair will sometimes give birth to a wizard… but yes, it happens. It's rare, but clearly it can happen. And that's why we're coming to you."
He shifts in his seat, "Normally, we'd come to you on the eve of your eleventh birthday, with an invite to the premier school for magical children, Hogwarts, but considering your… parentage… and the need for secrecy… we're doing things a little differently." In other words: in secret.

His face falls. "… so everyone's still going to think I've got memory problems." James sighs in disappointment. "I'd thought this would fix that… smashing," he mutters sarcastically. "… well, there's nothing for it, then. You said a lot of things I've questions about, Mister Umbridge. We've entirely different cultures? Do you lot-" He pauses. "… do our lot live someplace else? I was under the impression I was being invited to a school in London. Surely you aren't all wandering about dressed entirely differently on the same streets and trams and tubes we are."

"Actually… we're going to do a little… work to help with that as well. For one, you're going to get training to control your abilities, and two, there are ways to massage the truth so that your parents will assume things are quite normal."
As to the rest, Cassiel nods, "The school, actually, is in Scotland. But much of the Ministry, and our local society, is based in London. Just not a part of London you'd ever see otherwise. We're actually all around you… just most of us stay in our own part of the world, as it were."

That just seems baffling to James. "But where do you -keep- it all? If you've got an entire society of people living -in London-, where in the world are they? Why's there not some thespian colony, or… or re-enactment village or whatnot? I've lit'rally never seen anyone dressed anything like either of you anywhere in London and we're there often enough."

Cassiel frowns, although he tries to keep his tone upbeat, "That's because we have magic, James. There are things you see that, until you know they're there, and your mind is trained to see them, you will never recognize. We… have to hide. I'm certain you know well enough about how Muggle stories go about the treatment of Witches. Or worse, the Americas back in the day. We have very strict laws about what can be seen, who can know it. That's part of why we can't share this with your parents."

Click. The boy's Eureka moment is visible, as is the part where he realizes it's something HE'LL have to hide- or there'll be consequences. He glances deeper into the house- almost certainly towards his parents- then back to Cassiel. "And… you said that my parents-" There's plenty of space for Cassiel to complete that sentence and confirm that he can't tell his family.

"…can't know what you are, no. It's not a decision the Ministry made lightly. You're something of a unique circumstance. With your parents' positioning and influence in Muggle society… they would be too much of a risk. You… you've got a stake in it now. They? Well… you know your parents, James," Cassiel says, kindly, yet honest.

That leaves a grimace on the young boy's face. He flickers through a number of transparent emotions- frustration, worry, denial- before settling on a confident grin, the one the kids who easily latch onto "I'm a wizard!" more easily than "what am I gonna do?" usually sport. "Fine, then. They've got Amelia, anyhow- won't much notice if I'm off at school all the time. Just means the servants here will have less to do and the London flat's will have more." James straightens his posture, thumbs tucking into his suspenders as his grin widens. "So. I'm going to a wizard's school in scotland, to learn the sort of magic that's kept… us… from being noticed for the most part for… how long? Decades? Centuries?"

"Millenia, more like," Cassiel offers, noting the boy's easy acclimation of information, even with all the conflicting emotions. Those are normal, "Exactly. Or even more. There are a number of ways you can use the skills and abilities that will come natural to you. I, for one, work specifically with helping Muggle-born like yourself acclimate to our society. And. Since at your age you'll need and escort, I and my team will be that for you, when you're going around the city. We're already working to make certain your parents' flat will be staffed by people who will understand and your unique situation as well."

"Oh, good. That'll be a touch of relief. People like us, or just… muggles… with some special instructions?" James tilts his head a touch, opening his mouth for a question before his eyes flick to the two assistants and he nods slowly. ".. which… necessitates some memory magic and familiarity with our culture." He glances to Cassiel for confirmation.

"You catch on quickly." Cassiel replies with a nod of his head, "Likely either squibs or Muggles who've integrated because of their own children." He pauses, "Squibs being those born of magical parents with little or no magic of their own. Easier to maintain than constantly casing memory charms when something happens or is said that breaks the charm."

James frowns a little at the strange word until it's explained. He grimaces at the idea. "That… that would be horrid. Being born into a world with magic without any to call your own. I think I'd rather just be born to a normal family, rather than that." The expression fades quickly. "Very well, then. So as far as everything else goes, business as usual," he responds, a phrase favorite of his fathers.

At this, Cassiel nods, "Precisely. We'll arrange for your transfer to London, soon. I will send an owl to your window, every night, until then. If you need anything of me, or if anything occurs that needs our adjustment, you can give it a letter. It will know to bring it to me."

James nods a few times. "Alright. Mister Umbridge, I'll be needing school supplies and such, I suppose- and proper attire. I imagine I'll need some.. ah, robes, did you say?"

"Yes. I think we'll need to have an excursion, once you're settled in London. Get you some proper robes, help your wand choose you, and get you a few books, at the very least." Cassiel offers in agreement, "And perhaps just introduce you to some other witches and wizards.

James flicks his eyes to the others in the room, with their sticks, then back to Cassiel. "… wands. Right, those are-" His eyes narrow. "Did you say choose -me-? Oughtn't it work the other way round? It's not like the wands fill out surveys, like, is it?"

Cassiel tips James a wink at that. "Some things must be experienced to be understood, young James. And the choosing of your wand is definitely amongst one of the first of those. But when it happens, you'll understand." He pulls out his own, a rather ornate thing, "When you get the right one? It's like another limb."

James clearly has no idea how to internalize that idea, so he goes with the "must be experienced" line and shrugs. "I suppose I'll be seeing what you mean soon enough." He pauses, glancing up at Cassiel. "… how are we going to get my parents to pay for all this stuff beyond simple books and uniform and such? I'll probably need to get normal versions of all that, for when I'm home on holiday, too."

At this, Cassiel simply grins, "Worry not. We will figure something out." And then he stands, "Sadly, time is short. My friends and I need to have a talk with your parents, and then we'll be on our way."

James nods. "I imagine Mother will have reached a good point to excuse herself from the Bridge Club and find time for you soon; Father's not likely to be far behind, his paperwork will wait." James smiles back. "I'll see you again, Mister Umbridge. Until then, I'll try not to bate my breath TOO badly, lest I never quite make it to start of term."

Cassiel chuckles again, "And I meant it. Even if it's just questions, write them down, and give them to my owl at night. I'll send Hermetia. She's a bit wee, but she's friendly. If you have a mouse for her, she'll even let you pet her."

James makes a face. "Not sure where I'd even -get- a mouse, Mister Umbridge. If I find one, I suppose I'll try to set it aside." His expression waxes thoughtful. "… might be nice to pet an owl, though."

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