(1939-09-02) He's Making a List...
Details for He's Making a List…
Summary: Alphard Black and Abraxas Malfoy discuss some things that, in their considered opinions, require fixing at Hogwarts, as well as the new role of the Magijugend. The newest Slytherin transfer joins them, and has some ideas of her own.
Date: September 2, 1939
Location: Entry Courtyard, Hogwarts

Alphard is sprawled on a bench in the courtyard with the Seventh Year Transfiguration book in his hands. Though the weather's cool and drizzling, he's neatly tucked beneath the covered roofs to be protected from the weather, and besides, this sort of weather means that the outside is where one's most likely to find a bit of privacy in the anti-privacy lair that is Hogwarts. In a change from the Feast the day before, the scion of House Black's Magijugend Pendant is no longer silver, but instead glowing gold. Occasionally he'll brush his fingers against it while he reads, but doesn't look conscious of the habit.

Abraxas Malfoy, apparently now vying for title of most despised Prefect in school history despite having not done anything particularly vile yet, emerges from the castle, his robes pulled against the drizzle of the English summer. He doesn't seem to mind the rain terribly, though he has decided to sport the pointed hat that is part of the uniform to keep his platinum hair from making him look like a drowned rat. He heads in the direction of Alphard, apparently having spotted his quarry, and then clears his throat, and says, "Black." when he approaches. Then, noting the pendant, he adds, "Ah. I was right, then. Congratulations. And just the man I needed to see."

At first it's just his dark brown eyes that acknowledge Abraxas, and briefly at that with merely a quick glance before he returns his attentions to his book. He holds up a single imperious finger that requests patience while he finishes the last of the paragraph he was reading. It only takes a handful of seconds, after which the books is closed and the older boy shifts into a straighter seat. "Hey Malfoy," he says comradly. A self satisfied smile immediately steals onto his features when the shift to gold is noticed. "Thanks. I really was the most obvious choice." Shy about his own worth Alphard is not. "What can I help you with, my friend?"

"I had a curious thought last night." Abraxas says, as he tilts his head towards the bench as if politely requesting permission to join, "Especially given the new responsibilities that we have been given by Headmaster Flint, and some of the things that happened at the Feast last evening. Some of which were blasted disrespectful to the Head, if you ask me."

Magnanimously Alphard waves Abraxas to sit with him. "Hm," he says thoughtfully. "I think you're correct in that assessment. Perhaps we should make ourselves a list of the students we feel were most out of order, then summon them for a conversation." He gives his chin a little thinking-man's rub. "So we can instruct them in what we feel they should work on, personality and attitude wise, so we don't have to take further and more significant action to force such attitude shifts."

Abraxas nods as he takes a seat, "Not a bad idea. I was actually thinking, though, of this issue of muggle-born Prefects. Well, it's an issue to /me/ at least, and I think it should be to anyone else, the thought of muggle-borns having authority over people from real wizarding families." He frowns and adds, "I'd attach that to half-breeds as well, but I fear that perhaps eyes have not yet been quite so opened."

"I've always felt it ridiculous that mudbloods," he stops when he says it, with a frown on his brow. He amends it to the more politically acceptable: "Muggleborns, that is, should have authority over proper wizards, yes. Still, there is nothing we can really do about it. The Heads of the Houses make these decisions. Though I almost got Seamus Cavanaugh to lose his badge last year, somehow he still holds on. I'd advise you to just be patient, and wait for one of them to make a mistake. Oh, and in the future, Malfoy, don't run to Dumbledore for anything." He's heard about that! "I mean, you had good instincts. That little snot is far too proud of her little trinket. But you should've gone to Lestrange or Black. Dumbledore will always side with them."

"Yes, I realize that now." Abraxas agrees, with a shake of his head, "Disruption on the train, waving the thing about, talking about how she's going to fight dark wizards. And apparently, the Auror who gave it to her is no sort of proper witch, either." Code, it seems, for another of those muggle-borns. "Father has made it /exceedingly/ clear that I'm expected to do well as a Prefect. I was most upset about how that turned out. And then at Shafiq for bringing it up at the table." A silent grimace. Back on the other subject, he says, "So, just keep a close eye on them, and bring it to the attention of the /proper/ authorities, eh?"

"Shafiq has always been a bit questionable," Alphard says. "Not a bad bloke, but he's got a bleeding heart syndrome. I would try to work around him, too, as much as you can. So yes. Exactly. Avoid any obstacles, go straight for those who know how things are supposed to be done." There's a bit of cool malice in the way he says it, too.

"So a list. We'll have to talk to them one-on-one, I think. How about you come up with a few names over the day? Oh, and if you come across any student you feel would be a proper addition to the Magijugend, let me know about that as well. We could use a couple of extra right minded individuals."

"Or more accurately, two-on-one."

"Oh, I can think of a few. That boy who mouthed off last night needs to be taught a better lesson than Dumbledore will teach him. But I guess a list that includes all the uppity muggle-borns would be enough to occupy our efforts for an entire year, and we'll have to focus on bigger things before then." Say what you will about the myopic, bigoted Malfoy boy, but he's clever, at least. "We're going to have a rough go of it in Charms this year." he says, absently.

Abraxas adds, "I'm not sure about my Cousin Aris yet. Cousin Cyril decided to forgo the formalities of a wedding, but she's still a pure-blood. Whether she upholds her lineage I've yet to get a good read on."

"Exactly, there are too many. Keep it to the worst offenders, instead, and don't be shy about including any Prefects, too. After all, this is Magijugend business, and they're not above our purview. Half-bloods, too. I saw one or two behaving like asses and showing far too much sympathy with the Muggleborns." Alphard frowns as he says it, then shakes the dark clouds away with a force of will. "Professor Viridian.. yes. I had a bad time of it last year, too. He docked me points whenever he had the smallest excuse, and always shortened me. I was the best in my class, and still I only got an E from him." The memory twists his lips into a vicious sneer, and he needs to take a deep breath to calm himself.

"Well, she might be a bastard," said callously. "But she's still a pureblood and a Malfoy."

"I'm sure Professor Flint would use any excuse to be rid of him, but he's got to have something that's keeping him here. And I don't want to be turned into a chicken." Abraxas comments, drolly, before moving back to the subject of his cousin, "She's certainly a candidate, provided we keep all those firstie notions of being everyone's friend out of her head. You've hit my mind on the matter of her parentage. She's still blood."

In a sight that should have every muggle-born at Hogwarts worrying, Abraxas and Alphard are conspiring on a quiet bench under an overhang that keeps off the drizzle. Maybe the younger Malfoy is trying to pick up some tips on how to elevate his game?

"Probably has some Ministry backing," Alphard grumbles sourly. "Untouchable until he does something truly vile. Perhaps you should provoke him until he turns you into a chicken. At least then your father would have all the excuses in the world to come down on him like a mountain." His eyes gleam with wry humor, and after a moment he adds: "I'm just kidding. Though.." he considers. "Perhaps someone else could be convinced to.. push his buttons."

In a change from the Feast the day before, Alphard's Eye of Truth is no longer silver. It's gold.

Samira notices a pair of familiar faces from across the courtyard. While even some purebloods may choose to avoid those two in particular, a smile emerges on Samira's lips and hands in her pockets, she makes her way through the light drizzle toward them. "Good morning," she says as she draws closer. Already the chill of the morning air has soaked in to the girl's bones. She hugs herself against the cold and does her best to keep from shivering too obviously.

"I'm sure Father would have done something about him already, if he could. Or maybe it just hasn't been worth the effort to this point." Abraxas says, with a snort, but then he adds, more seriously, "It's not just that, though. He has to be provoked in a way that makes it clear /he/ was the aggressor against some poor, innocent, right-minded student. Otherwise, he was just punishing…" Abraxas looks up as he's addressed, "Good morning, Prince. I must say, green looks good on you. We were just talking about the Feast last night."

Alphard's dark eyes study Samira as she approaches, though it's only after she's spoken that he inclines his head with polite acknowledgement. He makes a little sweep towards their bench in invitation. "Prince. You're looking like you're not entirely acclimatized to Scotland yet." There's a bit of cruel bemusement in Alphard's voice as he says it, though he takes some of the edge away with a suggestion: "If you add a bit of wool under the uniform it helps a bunch against the cold. Especially once winter comes, you'll not want to be without." He's also nodded his approval when Abraxas mentions her and green together. "We're happy to have you in Slytherin with us."

Alphard slides a little to make space on the bench between himself and the other boy.

Samira laughs impishly when Alphard observes her reaction to the climate. But, at his suggestion, she nods appreciatively. "I imagine it will take time. Even in Egypt I would catch a chill easily." She sits down between the boys and smiles up at one and then the other. "The hat was debating putting me in Ravenclaw as well. I have a curious mind, it seems. But, in the end, I suppose my cleverness is more akin to cunning." Samira shrug, as if the choice wasn't one she'd been too concerned about. "Where I am from, we are sorted by blood. It is far more simple. But, it seems that this has begun to happen here as well. Returning to much older ways?"

"Hogwarts has always let Muggleborns in. Though there's never been one allowed into Slytherin," Alphard says. As he speaks he straightens up subconsciously, and his voice takes an imperious tone of lecture. "Unlike say, Durmstrang. Though I'd like to say they've got the right idea, I don't really think it would be responsible to teach them nothing. I think this SCUMS class is the best of both worlds. They'll have their special needs fulfilled, and be out of our faces." He idly sweeps some of his loose dark hair out of his brow. "What Electives are you taking? If you're going to continue here for your NEWTS you should pick carefully."

Then an errant glance to his wrist watch tells him that he needs to be going. He pushes himself to his feet with an aristocrat's effortless grace. "I have to go. But I'll see you around Prince. Don't hesitate to come to me if you need something. Malfoy."

Samira's shivering subsides as she sits between the two boys. Closing her eyes, a small smile lingers on her lips as she says, "I am taking three electives. Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Divination." She glances up at Alphard as she feels his absence at her side. "Thank you, Black. I appreciate it." Now, alone with Abraxas, she glances up at him with an almost curious look.

"I suppose we'll be in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy together then." Abraxas says, and nodding to Alphard as he leaves. "Take care, Black. I'll be in touch about that list." Then he looks back over at Samira, "At least classes should go more smoothly without the muggle-borns gumming up the work of the real wizards. Older ways, indeed."

"Yes, I imagine that the teachers will find the classes far more simple to conduct now that they only need to balance their attention between the needs of pureblood and half-blood students." Glancing up at the sky from under the hood of her cloak, Samira sighs, "It is only going to get colder, isn't it."

"Afraid so." Abraxas says, with a laugh, "It will start to snow next month sometime, and the days will be short until near the end of the year. But there is much to recommend it. Hogsmeade is nice around the holidays, and there is a chance to go back to London or home during the breaks."

"Snow? Next month?" says Samira with dismay. Shaking her head she says, "Ya salaam. I had been looking forward to seeing snow, but now I am not so certain." She folds her arms around herself.

"It's not as bad as all that. The fire in the common room is always pretty decent. But, yeah, you might want to wear some warm underthings." Abraxas counsels, with another little laugh. "How are you settling in? At least in Slytherin, you know you're amongst your own kind. I hate to have to try and sleep with a mud… muggle-born in the next bed."

Samira blinks, looking a bit surprised. "Ah, they share rooms in the other houses?" She laughs, shaking her head. "So much effort to impose barriers at meals and in classes, and yet they share their living quarters?"

"Now that you mention it, I'm surprised that Professor Flint didn't think of that." Abraxas says, with a thoughtful pursing of his lips. "But yes, each House has only one common area and dormitory."

"It is likely much harder to restructure the dormitories than the classes and seating arrangements at meals." Samira rises with a smooth, almost sensual grace. Smiling down at Abraxas, she says, "I am going back inside to keep exploring. It was nice seeing you, Malfoy."

"To keep warm, more likely." Abraxas says, then nods, "Good day to you, Prince. I'll see you at lunch."

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