(1940-01-18) Brain-Washed
Details for Brain-Washed
Summary: Angelus and Megan find a place in the cliffs to hang out and talk, and they again start disagreeing.
Date: January 18, 1940
Location: Clock Tower and Cliffs

Angelus has been rather sulky about not being able to go to the village, complaining about the unfairness of it all. At least he’s been taking the opportunity to work on extra potions work, though now he’s decided on a break. Deciding to walk out towards the cliffs - it seemed like a good direction to choose - he’s keeping an eye out. Though Celes could very likely have gone to Hogsmeade, the youth still looks around for her as he does for Megan, as well.

Megan is seated on a bench in the colonnade that surrounds the courtyard of the clock tower, looking out over the cliff while eating an apple, her Gryffindor scarf draped over her shoulders. Her bookbag is lying beside her, the flap open—revealing some leather-bound notebooks, a sheaf of parchment, and the feather of a quill. Her hair, which is longer now than it used to be, blows lightly with the breeze.

Angelus slows in his movements as he finds the girl sitting on the bench. As he approaches, and notices who it is, a grin snakes across his face as his approach becomes sneakier. Hunching, Gel walks so that he’s coming up behind, until he can reach out to Megan and quickly tickle her sides. “Hi,” he says out enthusiastically on a chuckle.

Megan lets out a satisfying shriek when she's assaulted, dropping her apple to the bench seat in the process. "Oh, you runt! You startled me!", she accuses, as she bats away at Angelus' arms to try to defend herself. "You're lucky I didn't have my wand in my hand, since I might've accidentally hexed you on instinct," she chides while poking Gel in the chest with her index finger.

Angelus looks positively delighted at her reaction, laughing out heartily. Grinning, after his initial tickle, he intends to wrap his arms around her to give her a tight hug and a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s go find something entertaining, May. Pa wouldn’t come and take me out of the school.”

Megan picks up her apple and brushes it off. "All right," she easily assents. Folding the flap of her bookbag shut, she stands up and slings the strap over her shoulder, then takes a bite from her apple. "Where did you have in mind?"

Angelus hums out as he walks around the bench, coming around in front to wrap an arm around behind Megan so as the guide her with him. “There’s a place in the cliffs we can go,” he suggests, flashing a smile. He heads closer to the cliffs, and gestures down and a little to the side where an opening in the rock is. “You can make it over there, right? It isn’t any more difficult than our cliffs at home.”

Megan allows herself to be led, and looks off in the direction Angelus indicates, assessing the terrain. "Sure, I can handle that," she says confidently. Finishing her apple, she disposes of the core and starts edging herself closer to the cliff.

Angelus waits for Megan to start off so that he can follow, and keep an eye on her, of course. Not that he’s really expecting there to be a problem, but if she did slip he’d be ready. Loose stones fall away as he finds his footing, grimacing as he silently curses himself for not thinking ahead and bringing his broom.

Megan spreads her arms for balance as she walks atop an outcropping, then hops down to a narrow trail beyond it, and leans slightly toward the wall of rock as she continues walking, the fingertips of one hand brushing its surface. It's not long before she reaches the crevasse Angelus had pointed to, and she sits down in it, leaving enough space for Gel.

As Angelus follows along he keeps the thought in his mind how easier it would be to just fly up. He doesn’t quite make it smoothly to the spot, and as he ducks in and falls to his knees he proceeds to fix his robes, brushing away any dirt with a twist of his lips. As he shifts, he pulls out a ball. “Catch,” he says before tossing it out to Megan, which lets out a whistle when it leaves his hands (a short lived whistle, due the fact that it either lands on the floor of the niche or in Megan’s hands).

Megan reaches for the ball and catches it, then looks down at it and inspects it. "What's this for?", she asks, glancing up to Gel. She adjusts her posture so her legs are folded, and sets her bookbag aside.

Of course Angelus remembers this spot slightly bigger, but then it was last year and he’s grown a bit since then. “Toss it back,” he responds, shifting so that his knees are up and his arms rest over top of them. “It’ll eventually send out a spray of mist.” He holds out his hands for the ball. “How’re you doing on your potions, May?”

The threat of being sprayed with an undisclosed substance raises Megan's eyebrows, and she's quick to toss it back to Angelus. "Potions is one of my best subjects, so it's no problem," she replies. Of course that's because she got interested in it through Angelus' passion for it.

Angelus grins, amusement flickering mirthfully over his features when she tosses the ball back. He tosses it back to her in turn. Nodding in response to her, his smile flickers against his lips. “Any class you do need help in?” He smirks, and adds in as he eyes his sister. “Well, anything but transfigurations.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “How does Noah do so well with those spells?”

"I think I'm fine, except maybe for History of Magic," Megan replies. "If everyone was good at the same subjects, the world would be pretty boring," she points out. "Let me know if you want me to help you with your transfiguration sometime though." She winks at that, not really serious.

Angelus’ hands spread for the ball to be returned, making a face in distaste. “I’m dropping transfigurations as soon as I finish my OWLs next year. I’ve got plenty of more useful spells to learn,” he intones. A little grin flicks out and he nods, humming. “I’ve been looking into the histories of things more.” A foolishly fond, toothy grin tugs across his face as his mind thinks of Celes. One that a boy might get when they like someone. He doesn’t bring her up though, and shifts slightly uncomfortable as he clears his throat. “It’s not so bad, looking up histories on your own time instead of listening to Binns drone on and on.” He rolls his eyes.

"But…transfiguration is really useful. Are you really sure you want to handicap yourself by dropping it?", Megan asks, a concerned look gracing her face. "I plan to take all the NEWT-level classes that I qualify for." Which will probably be all of them. "Except history," she's quick to clarify. Because it'll probably still be Binns teaching it, if it's even offered as a NEWT-level class.

“There are more useful things to learn,” Angelus insists, letting his hands sag when the ball lies forgotten on the crevice floor. “Besides, I’m likely not going to qualify for the NEWT class,” he says, snorting. Angelus shifts, beckoning out his hands for Megan. “Come here, move a little this way,” he says. Reaching out, he’ll brush her hair to the side and intend to rub her shoulders. “I’ll have what I need to get into the Intelligence division in the Ministry.”

Megan shifts as Angelus requests, relaxing her shoulders and closing her eyes when he begins rubbing. "Have you talked about this with Pettigrew? But if you're sure, I won't try to change your mind."

Angelus snorts when Enid is mentioned, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m going to be busy enough with my potion NEWTs. Besides, Pettigrew is corrupted by wild stories told by a little girl.” There is bitterness in his tone at that, but he clears his throat and forces out a smile as he rubs his sister’s shoulders, thumbs working gently. “I should be under Slughorn, in the Slytherin commons. Now he’s a brilliant Head of House.”

Megan rolls her eyes; fortunately, Angelus can't see them from his position. "I do like Slughorn," she agrees. "That feels nice," she says softly. If the intelligence position falls through, Gel can always be a masseur, but it's not something she's going to suggest.

“Misled as he is,” Angelus continues on as he works his fingers against Megan’s shoulders. “I’m going to be the greatest potion’s master in all times,” he says, “how could he quit sending me invitations to his club?” His fingers start to slow down, until he drops his hands from his sister to place hands together. His head lowers to rest his forehead against the tips of his fingers, with his nose almost between his hands. He lets out a breath as he lowers his hands, and glances at Megan. “May, if I leave this school for Durmstrang, come with me. You can learn how important our family is and how vital it is to keep our magic pure.”

"Thanks," Megan says when Angelus ceases his pleasant ministrations. She scoots and turns around so she's facing him, her eyes widening when he makes that proposal. "Please tell me you're not really considering going to Durmstrang," she pleads. "They're notoriously strict, I imagine their campus is something like a compound with a brutalist architecture, set in the middle of a desolate wasteland, students don't have any chance to relax or pursue their own interests—not to mention their biases…I'd wither and die if I went there, I'm certain."

Angelus shifts a little, and reaches out to pluck the ball up to tuck away into his robes. He sighs out dramatically, his lips twitching as he turns his blue eyes back to Megan. “As Hogwarts should be. If this school had even half the discipline Durmstrang had, with the right staff in charge, they could make it a decent, uncorrupted school.” His chin lifts, turning his head to look out of the opening and sighing. “I don’t know about staying in Norway, but I at least would like to see Britain straightened out. I’d like to talk to their Headmaster and somehow get a message to Grindelwald himself.” His lips twist a little. “We should see what everyone thinks about a surprise visit from him.”

Megan's lips part in disgust upon hearing Angelus' words. "Angelus. Honestly, if you were any other person—I would slap you on your arse right here and now." She crosses her arms. "Grindelwald is a bloody monster. Don't you dare go cavorting with him. And Merlin's balls, stop trying to indoctrinate me with all this pureblood supremacy rubbish." She huffs, and cants her head so she's looking away from Gel, toward the floor of their niche and to the side. "You're really not making it any easier for me to stay close to you. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were intentionally trying to set me off. If you insist on spreading your propaganda, the least you could do is to do it in someone else's company. Or do you -really- want to turn me against you?"

“Grindelwald is working at making our world a better place,” Angelus returns, his voice dropping into a chilled tone. As he shifts, he reaches out for Megan’s hand to clasp his hand around it. “You already are…” He pauses, brows furrowing as he puzzles out Megan’s word. On a breath, he decides on, “…brainwashed,” he completes with a frown. He’d pull at her arm to draw her closer to him, and his free arm lifts to wrap snugly around her, and rest his head against hers. “It’s because the wizards in charge of this school allows the commoners of wizard and witches to take part in Hogwarts when it should be left to the proper folks. It’s my job to teach you the right way.”

Megan is initially resistant to being tugged, but acquiesces, only because it's Gel. "I love you, Gel. But I hate your prejudices. You weren't always this way. Or at least, you seemed to have more constructive priorities before. If you make this your overriding goal in life, you're never going to be truly happy." She relaxes her arms and idly worries a button on her coat.

Once Angelus has her in a hug, he doesn’t intend to let go. His arms tighten, and he sighs. “Because those commoners, and those lesser, are ruining our world and they must be controlled.” He frowns, closing his eyes for a moment. “And taking away your pride for your family. Listen to you, May. You’re going to hurt our name as much as Noah is doing.” He shakes his head as he draws away from her, looking towards the opening of the crevice. “If Grandpa were alive he’d be appalled. Mixing our blood with Muggle blood. But I won’t stop until I’ve cured your blindness.”

Megan frowns at the accusation that she's damaging the Eibon name. As if it wasn't already notorious for other reasons. Being so physically close to her brother, she raises her hands to idly play with the fabric of his clothing while considering her options regarding how to approach un-brainwashing him. "Suppose, for the sake of argument, that people came around to your way of thinking and were willing to change laws and policies to further your ideals. What would you have muggle-borns doing?", she asks. "Would you deprive them of a magical education completely, or would you educate them to a limited standard and put them to work for purebloods, or something else?"

“My way of thinking?” Angelus snorts and rolls his eyes. “It’s the Truth. That’s what we stand for. That’s what you should be standing up for.” He glances at his sister, blue eyes locking on her with an expectant look, and he frowns as he reaches out a hand again to touch her chin, intending to tilt her head back. “Should we deprive them of a magical education? No. We need them. We need to lead them into their proper places - under us - so that we can control our society.” He will drop his hand away and scoot back. “You’ll thank me if I manage to bring Grindelwald to Britain.”

Megan rolls her eyes when Angelus uses the word 'truth'. Something she seems to do quite often when around her brother of late. "All right. Suppose we create a caste system like you describe. Since the muggleborns won't be averse to combining wizarding magic and muggle technology, they'll innovate faster than us and eventually progress beyond us purebloods. What then?" She refrains from commenting on Grindelwald again, since anything she might be inclined say regarding him would probably be unproductive.

Angelus lets out a snort as he turns his gaze back to Megan. “No they won’t. We’re better than them in every way, we just naturally sit above them while they look to us to find out what they’re supposed to do.” He sighs, reaching a hand up to brush a few locks of blonde curls away delicately. “Open up your eyes, May.”

"Famous last words. You win the award for biggest generalization ever," Megan replies. "Segregated like that, muggleborns would develop their own culture and not be hindered by preconceived notions of what's 'proper' or not. They'd be free-thinking, while you want us to be the exact opposite, stubborn and resistant to change. Your bias is so strong that you're blind to the possibility of muggleborns achieving anything on their own." She shifts her posture, trying to make herself more comfortable, but failing to do so on the stone floor.

Angelus’ lips curl as he lifts his chin, a smirk flicking against his lips. “May, if they want to try to start their own culture, then they will leave us no choice but to cut them down. If they want to survive, they will obey us.” A snort escapes the boy, shaking his head as he inches out of the entrance. He drops his tone into a colder one as he locks his eyes on his sister. “You will follow the Truth, May. If you care at all about what you are, you will follow, and you will help the cause.”

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