(1939-10-22) So Many Stories
Details for So Many Stories
Summary: Adam stumbles onto Angelus and begins asking him questions. Abraxas arrives and shoos the Muggle-born away to chat with Gel.
Date: October 22, 1939
Location: Viaduct Courtyard

A couple days after the big ordeal leads to a relatively clear day, if a bit chilly. Angelus is sitting astride a bench, and he had been focusing on his schoolwork which is laid out on the bench in front of him. He can still do that at least. Now, the youth has taken out the two halves of his wand, staring down at them thoughtfully. But the silver pendant still hangs from around his neck, swinging as he leans forward.

Adam has been reclusive since returning to Hogwarts. Between being forced into worthless (in his eyes) classes and the increased feelings of hostility towards Muggle-borns like himself, he has all but locked himself away in the Hufflepuff dorms, emerging only for meals or class. But, having heard stirrings of things going on at Hogwarts over the past few days, curiosity has got the better of him, and he wanders through the courtyard at a cautious pace. Seeing Angelus, he hesitates and then walks up to his bench. Seeing what the boy appears to be holding, he gasps and says, "Is that…? What is that?"

Angelus doesn’t bother looking up at the footsteps. It’s not like he’s in a private area of the castle, passersby are to be expected. At the voice, however, Angelus frowns briefly, releasing a sigh as he lifts his head. “My wand?” he says bitterly, arching a brow as he regards the younger boy. A snort escapes the blonde haired Gryffindor as his shoulders roll back lightly. His fingers curl around the pieces and he draws them close to his leg, where he rests his fist. “Yea. Happy?” The snappy tone brings out a wince afterwards, and he sighs, lifting a hand lightly. “Sorry, Irving - it isn’t your fault. It’s just-“ He shakes his head.

Adam stares at Angelus. He was expecting the usual smug response, not this. He winces when the other boy snaps at him, but then he shakes his head. "Not really," he mutters. He looks to the side for a moment, as though he's considering walking off and leaving Angelus to his misery. Then he shakes his head and looks back at him. "It's all right," he says. "Anything I can do? You can borrow my wand if you like. It's not like I get to use it anymore." He, too, sounds bitter.

Angelus glances down to his book, lowering a hand to flip the book closed around the parchment. He’s been working on divinations, at least judging by the cover of the book. The youth lets out a ‘heh’ as he slowly shakes his head, casually lifting a leg to rest the heel of his foot against the edge of the bench, and wrap an arm around near his ankle, the hand squeezing around the wand halves. “I don’t need your wand,” he remarks quickly. “A wizard shouldn’t be left without their wand.” A smirk flicks against his lips, shaking his head. “Besides, I doubt I’d get your wand to cooperate with me.” Gel studies Adam for a second. “Well you might be able to use it soon.”

There's some of the Angelus that Adam remembers. For a moment Adam looks disappointed, but then he just shrugs as if it didn't matter to him if Angelus took him up on his offer or not. "All right," he says, wary when the other boy appears to study him. But then his eyes light up at the idea that he might get to do real magic again soon, even if that's not exactly what he was just told. "Really?" he says. "How do you know? How soon?"

“I don’t know,” Angelus answers quickly, shaking his head. “But with Flint in trouble for the bloody contracts…” The youth lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “I don’t know, Irving, but I don’t think Auror Odori is going to rest until things are made right at Hogwarts.” He shifts the leg, swinging the foot over the bench so that he can stand up, and he reaches out to offer a pat to Adam’s back. “So head up, you could be going to real classes again.”

"Oh," Adam says, not following half of what Angelus says. "Well, good. It's about time." When the other boy stands up and pats his back, Adam flinches before he can stop himself. Embarrassed and hoping to skip right over that, he quickly asks, "So were those really Aurors? Here at Hogwarts? What were they doing here? What are the contracts? Is that what they were carrying with them when they left?"

“Mhm,” Angelus lets out as he nods his head in agreement. “It’s wasn’t right, SCUMs class. You either get to learn all magic or not at all.” Though he won’t mention which one he’d prefer. “Yes, Aurors - and yes, that’s what they said. They had our contracts.” His fingers tighten around the wand halves, and Angelus blinks, looking down as if realizing he still had them in hand. He tucks them away into his robes as he snorts, looking back to Adam. “That’s why my wand broke. I had information to help the Aurors and I had to tell them.”

Abraxas sweeps out into the courtyard, his school robes flapping behind him and a book under his arm. He seems to be moving normally, at least. Seeing the Gryffindor Eibon, he turns and heads in that direction, though there's still time to scatter before he arrives within hexing distance!

"So, you finally figured that out, did you?" Adam mutters, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. But the rest of what Angelus tells him goes over his head. "What contracts? What are you talking about? What made your wand break? You're not making any sense." Catching sight of someone approaching them, he frowns. "Actually, never mind. I think I'd better go back inside now."

For a moment Angelus can’t hide the annoyed spark in his eyes, but he shakes his head and releases a breath. “I never wanted there to be a SCUMs class,” he murmurs. “But it doesn’t matter, I got what I deserve,” he informs, even if it comes out a bit bitterly. He dips his head in a nod, lifting a hand to wave his fingers dismissively through the air. “Yes, run along, Irving. I was working on my schoolwork when you showed up.” His eyes slide over the courtyard before returning to his book (which rests on the bench he stands by) and he notices Abraxas. Craning his head lightly, he glances at Adam. “Yes, yes, it certainly is better that you go back inside.” He nods. A single brow lifts and he brings a hand up to offer a wave towards the Slytherin.

"Eibon." Abraxas says, returning the wave with a curt nod. His gaze swivels to Adam like that of a basilisk, and then he says simply, "A new friend?" Then back to the focus of his attention, and his lips grow into a thin line for a long moment before he blurts out, "What in Merlin's name were you /thinking/?!"

"Right," Adam says. "Goodbye then." He turns to leave, only to find himself face-to-face with Abraxas. He freezes in place, almost as though the older boy's gaze really is a basilisk's. "Um," he says, and then quickly runs out of words. He glances to Angelus, uncertain, but then looks back to Abraxas with a frown. "Hey, don't talk to him like that!"

Angelus cocks his head to the side and looks to Adam at the mention of a ‘new friend.’ A smirk touches his lips, shaking his head without sparing a thought. “Irving and I will never be friends,” he answers, lifting his head proudly. The fourth year does grimace when Abraxas blurts out, his eyes sliding away from him and along the bridge, but then frowns as his blue eyes end up locking on Adam. A sigh rolls off his tongue as he lowers his head, touching his fingers to his forehead. He lifts his head again to look at Adam before he states, “You don’t get to tell Malfoy how he can speak. Leave it alone, Irving.” As for answering Abraxas, he tilts his head, both brows rising. “I- I don’t want to say too much in front of-“ He jabs a thumb towards Adam. “It isn’t for his ears.”

"At least you aren't /totally/ hopeless." Abraxas says, to Angelus, with ill-concealed pique. Whatever is between the two of them, the Malfoy boy is clearly annoyed. He makes a dismissive shooing motion of his hand towards the Hufflepuff second year, with all the airy dignity and arrogance of a nobleman shooing off a serf, "Run off, Irving, was it? I'll speak to him - and anyone else - as I like, thank you. And this is none of your business."

Adam immediately regrets trying to stand up for Angelus, especially when the Gryffindor turns on him. Anger flashes across his face. "All right then," he says to Angelus. "I'll leave." He glares at Abraxas and for a moment looks as though he wants to say something to him as well, but instead he turns and stalks off.

Angelus’ blue eyes flick from Abraxas to Adam, watching the younger boy with an arched brow expectantly. His lips twitch weakly as he tilts his head, but when the Hufflepuff turns away and stalks off, Gel nods his head. He continues to watch his back until he’s at a distance, his expression already twisting into a look of distaste. “He’s so lame,” he murmurs with a shake of his head. With his departure, he turns to look back to Abraxas. “Malfoy,” he starts off in a lower tone, “do you know anything about them? The boxes? It wasn’t that important, was it? He said… He said some of them were decoys.” He frowns.

"They are that, yes." Abraxas says, of muggleborns in general and of Adam in particular. He motions for Angelus to walk with him, leaving the safety of the bench to stroll along the viaduct. "The box that we hid in the dungeons had the contracts in it. We hid it successfully, but they found it anyway. A shame, that, all that wasted effort. So, they already had what they needed, and you betrayed us for nothing. I hope you find some solace in that." He continues to walk, "What do you want me to say, Eibon? That I admire your pluck and respect for wizarding authorities? You didn't just fail. You turned your robes and, without knowing the situation, handed over what had been put in your charge to some mudblood in Auror's robes. We gave the Headmaster our word, and you broke yours and betrayed him. Just like that fancy wand of yours, you can never put it back together. Now you're a Magijugend to them and a blood traitor to us. How can we ever trust you again?" He doesn't pull any punches, the Malfoy.

Angelus lowers his head in a nod at the silent request to walk with him, but he holds up a single finger first. Turning to the bench, he works to bind the book with the parchment in it with his book strap, buckling it and flinging the strap over his shoulder before he rises. He follows along with Abraxas, a tiny bit of a smile set on his lips. He lets the older boy speak without interrupting, but as the Slytherin carries on Gel silently realizes he wasn’t quite ready for that. His smile fades, and the arrogant glitter in his eyes dissolves. He starts to slow down his pace as he frowns. No. Gel shakes his head. Increasing his speed again, the youth gives his head a heavy shake. “I think for myself, Malfoy. I knew they had the contracts. They said it. The situation…” He stalls momentarily and allows his eyes to trail around him. Gel lets out a sigh, starting to speak, but quiets as he gives a bitter look down to the ground. “I am no blood traitor,” he says defensively. “I had no other information. I saw Flint in trouble. It was a gamble, but I hoped I was right in assuming he wouldn’t give an actual important box to a fourth year. How am I supposed to hold off sixth and seventh years?” His shoulders lift briefly. “So I thought, well, if I nullified the contract the Aurors couldn’t find anything out about it. I think we owe Flint that much… I’d obviously break my wand for him. Would you?” He clears his throat.

"Is that so?" Abraxas says, sounding unimpressed, "It's a magical contract, Eibon. If you hadn't broken faith with the Magijugend, you would still have your wand. So no, I don't believe that you're telling me the truth. I was worried about what my father would think when he came here. But what would /your/ father say, or your brother, upon learning what you did?" Not that Abraxas knows the mind of Noalan Eibon II, but he can fairly well guess, from association with a few members of the family. He pauses at the Viadict, looking out over the forest and the village of Hogsmeade. "This is a long struggle, Eibon. Probably a lifetime struggle, to see proper wizarding society preserved. And those who aren't with us are against us." He pauses a moment longer, "It's entirely possible that as a result of what happened there will be a new headmaster, and no more 'official' Magijugend. But that matters not at all. What we stand for cannot be destroyed, nor will the lack of 'official' authority prevent us from acting on our beliefs. Right now, you're on the wrong side of that fence. You and I have been friendly, until now. How do you think Alphard Black will react, when he hears? The muggleborn sixth and seventh years may have been the least of your problems."

Angelus watches ahead of him while he walks, occasionally looking to Abraxas. His eyes suddenly fall down to the ground as he frowns, inhaling a sharp breath, and keeping his gaze on the ground as he walks, listening to the Slytherin. The youth lets a moment of silent pass while he says nothing, thinking, considering the older boy’s words. A grin slowly begins to spread across his face as he lifts his head, tilting his head. “I guess you’ll have to work that out Malfoy.” His grin widens, breaking into a toothy one as his blue eyes glitter. “Because I have no intention in turning my back on any of you, just because my wand snapped. I don’t want Flint as the Headmaster. I want Professor Black, or maybe someone for your family, or my father. I don’t care,” he adds in quickly. “Flint failed us. Black wouldn’t. The Muggle-born wouldn’t even see it coming if he was in charge.” He stops suddenly, the strap against his shoulder slipping off as he spreads his hands apart. “Fine, act angry, but you’re wasting your time directing it at me when I’m still trying to help. I told you once how I like to play the game. Now I can play it my way.”

Abraxas's self control is frayed at the comment about Angelus not turning his back, and his eyes flare with barely suppressed anger. "You think I don't bloody well know that? Do you even listen when I talk? But you signed the contract, because you…" He bites off whatever he was going to say next, which was clearly heading down a very nasty path. Nostrils flare from a deep breath, and then he simply says, "As far as I'm concerned, Eibon, you're a traitor who can't be trusted. Play whatever games you like. Let me know when you're ready to come back to the fold." With that, he turns his back and walks away. Hey, at least he left the option of coming back? Maybe?

It’s not easy not to swell with anger. There is a flash in his eyes, a hurt look, and the boy hisses, but he also scolds himself. Come on, you can do this. So after the quick irritation, the Gryffindor gives a heavy shake of his head and grins wildly to Abraxas. “I don’t need your approval, Malfoy, and I’m sorry you feel that way.” His hands gesture outward in a grand gesture as he bows to the Slytherin, his blue eyes watching him go. He stands where he is until he swings his book strap over his shoulder again and walks in the other direction.

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