alt_draco | Entries tagged with political matters

I've been meaning to tell you both about a few things that happened over Hols. On the night of the Gala, Teddy told me that Ned Pennifold made it clear to him that the Lord Protector is keeping an eye out for more young recruits to the council. You know how Teds is, though - I couldn't be sure it wasn't a brag or a trap, so I let it lie. But then, at Blaison on Sunday morning, before Daphs and I went to Kings Cross, Alfred Montague told me that his brother, Jason, told him the same thing: start proving your worth, the Lord Protector is watching.

Harry, if your Father is casting his net over Hogwarts, then I'm going to make myself into a fish he can't refuse.

On Saturday I more or less implied to my Father that I will be distancing myself from him publicly. Though we didn't speak of his slipping social position directly, he knew why I was warning him. He told me that he didn't want me to put myself in danger to save him, and when I pointed out to him that I've never really not been in danger, he argued that I didn't need to put myself in the Lord Protector's service so completely. He made it clear that the last thing he wants is for me to bind myself to the Lord Protector.

After a time, I think he saw that he couldn't sway me, and he said that whatever I do, don't do it for my family's standing.

Of course, he thinks that's exactly why I'm doing it.

I think it's time I ask Snape if it's possible for him to train me in legilimency.

All right, I stayed up late to finish looking over Bum's parchments and nodded off before I could get through them all. Woke up early to get through the rest.

We snatched a whole stack of them, and since they were right on top, most seem to be recent. I think the very top stack are things she meant to send to someone soon, and the stuff on the bottom are things she just recently received in the owl post. Some are letters, and others are detailed notes about the school that she drew up, presumably to be sent off to someone else. Though who knows, I suppose it could be for her own records. We pulled from two parchment piles but had to hide before really processing how they were organised.

A few of the letters are to people she considers chums, and are written in that sick, simpering way of hers. Short and not very interesting; talk of the weather and "how is your dear Father's spattergroit?" Addressed to people with names like Aggie and Rina. In addition to those there's a lot of other rubbish. A tonne of order receipts for rosewater sweets and "ladies pink foundation garment, size 'well fluffed'." Those should be enormously useful, emphasis on enormous.

Now, I did find a few letters from Strangeweale, the Councilmember. They're all more or less requests for "progress reports" on something or another. Some seem to laud her for her "assistance in the matter," and others seem a little pushier, with him saying things like "refocus your efforts," and reminding her to keep "their mutual goals" in mind. Most curious of all, there's one that seems to be all about OWL exams, which contains this bit: "Related to our conversation about charms related to exam performance, here's a list of 5 that would make it impossible for someone to write a coherent theoretical exam."

So, it seems that Bum wanted to see certain of the student body fail OWLs. Colour me shocked. Oh, she also has a letter of complaint to some shopkeeper about how "these blood quills aren't proving a successful deterrent for wayward students. Please do send me a more severe prototype at your earliest convenience." Are we really sure we don't want to drop the plate?

But anyway, Strangeweale's letters are otherwise short and banal. Possibly encoded in case of interception (though it'd have to be a fairly uncomplicated code, for her to suss out). It seems he didn't really want to chat with her about how the weather's been in New London, or whether or not her well-fluffed foundation garments itch or not. Fancy that.

And as I said before, she was keeping notes, and some of them are on expendable people - halfbloods, in this case (though neither the word expendable nor halfblood appear in the notes). On the list we've got, there's Hopkins, Stebbins, Capper, Fawcett, Li, Bundy, Corner, Jones, Perks, Summers, Brocklehurst, Midgen, Stein, Zimmerman, Finch-Fletchley and Lovegood. On a separate parchment, she'd put together notes on each person from the list. She mentions how Hopkins, Stebbins, and Summers all come from negligent foster families who barely write, don't keep their fosterlings well-clothed, and so forth. She notes how Capper's exam anxiety could be used against him for expulsion. She also mentions the families of Midgen and Corner and how they do care for their charges since both live with actual blood relatives; she adds, though, that their families aren't "the least bit well-connected." Last on that page she mentions Luna Lovegood, who she notes is "actually a pureblood and may, for that reason, be even better suited." So, good news, Lovegood. Someone still thinks you're a pureblood.

Then, on the second page of the list, she has details about the rest. Sally Anne, she says you've become too well-connected, but she also points out that the Strettons don't like you one bit. For Megan Jones, Bum remarks that she's become "so very useful," and says that she hopes she can be allowed "this one little indulgence." And then there's an extra long bit about you, Finch-Fletchley. About how you'd be such a fascinating subject, given your background and parentage; unfortunately, she also seems to think that you're too high risk, and that if anything happened to you there'd be inquiries.

My own conclusion is that the lists of expendable people are connected to whatever Strangeweale is working on and was writing to Bumbridge about. Still, there's not really solid evidence connecting the two together. And we still don't know what, exactly, he was doing. Is doing.

Sure loves to hear himself talk, that one. All that rot about teachers not noticing and taking action when it came to Finch-Fletchley, when really, if Finch-Fletchley had been taught any sort of decent lessons in dark arts or practical dueling, he would have been able to defend himself properly. But that one can't seem to fathom that when some bastard is coming at you with a deadly hex, your first thought probably isn't going to be about the "cultural structures" or "coercive powers" that made the bastard that way, but how to get him out of your face, and quickly. Sorry, but I'll hex first, think about the rest later.

And that bit about "inventing justification for deeds to the point of absurdity?" I don't know, but it reminded me of when we were five or six, Harry. Remember, they were still restoring Buckingham and parts of it were closed off to everyone, even you. And it was the first time my Father ever Cruciated me.

Granger, you weren't there then, so I'll explain. I'm talking about those semi-state rooms in the lower levels - I'm pretty sure that they're so heavily warded now that no one but Harry's Father can get into them, but back then they still didn't have everything set up, so all we knew was that if we wandered into that area, we'd get into terrible trouble.

So of course, that's exactly what we did. Harry wanted to explore and I was perfectly happy to go along with that sort of thing, back then. We ended up playing green ghost in some kind of trophy room, and I was wearing the blanket and Harry was hiding somewhere. I was bumbling around, blind as anything, and I tripped into a display case. A glass goblet fell over inside and smashed to pieces. It must have set off some kind of alarm spell, because we were trying to put the goblet back together when Yaxley caught us. Bloody nightshade, he scared me down to my toes back then. Still does, if I'm honest.

He marched us both off to the Lord Protector's chambers and both of our Fathers were clearly annoyed at being interrupted. There was a lot of questioning and hard words like "How could you be so disobedient?" Between that and Yaxley's dark expression, it was all terrible enough. But then, when the Lord Protector said that I needed to be punished for both of us, my Father almost seemed...well, I didn't know what to call it then, but I think "shocked" is what I'd call it now. Just that by the expression on his face I didn't expect him to do what he ended up doing. I thought he might pick me up and take me out of there - I even remember being sad, Harry, thinking I might not be able to play with you again for a long time.

But he didn't pick me up and take me out of there. Instead he sat me in the middle of the room and he Cruciated me.

I don't have to tell you how horrible it was. Well, not you at least, Granger. But the pain and the shakes and the tremors, none of it compared to how awful it felt to know that my own Father had just done that to me. And a few nights later I was crying to Mother about just that, and she said that Father had done it because he wanted to spare me what the Lord Protector would do to me if he hadn't.

I didn't believe it for a long time. But I believe it now. And my Father wasn't just inventing justification... there was, in fact, someone else who would have enjoyed it more, would have been more cruel, more vicious, and would have felt less remorse. No remorse, actually.

I don't know. I don't know what to say about "breaking the cycle" (and neither does that one, apparently - never gives a set of instructions, does he?). But it's pointless to sit and ponder change and the future when there are more important things bearing down now. There is no way out of anything when you're a kid.

So, what are you going to do when my Father expects you to cruciate Granger at the second task, Harry? Are you going to be able to do it?

Seems odd that so much of his post is relevant to that very question.

Current Location: Moving staircase

I told Blaise that I have an essay to write, and that's why I'm not down in the common room celebrating. I've gone to the library, instead. So if anyone else asks, could you just tell them that I spent so much time working on the banners and flags that I got behind in my homework?

Father's furious with me. Harry, too. He almost seemed as angry as he was when we freed that stupid hippogriff. I suppose in that case I'm lucky that all he did was order me to write an essay on the inferiority of mudbloods. Normally that would be easy enough, but he says if it's not thorough or convincing that he's going to talk to Mr Tenebridge about taking my name off the credits for "Hey, Hey Merlin." ~~He also said I have to~~ Anyway, hopefully that won't happen.

Harry's been punished too, by the way. But I wouldn't ask him about it, if I were you.

Current Location: Library stacks

It's hard to believe that something so good can end in a way that's so bad.

Up until the explosion, yesterday was one of the snitchest days I've ever had. I was with my family and friends, we were watching the Quidditch World Cup, which I didn't think I'd ever get to see here in England, and to top it all off, everyone else was invited, too. Who would want to ruin that? My Father was hurt. He should be alright, but he was lucky. Not everyone was.

Aunt Bellatrix was one of the ones leading the demonstration. I sort of wish I could have joined her and all the rest of them, but I'm not of age, so I couldn't.

I don't really feel like writing, but last night people kept whispering and looking at me and I know they want to ask, so I might as well tell.

I saw Dennis. His body, I mean. Professor Slughorn didn't want me to but I did. They told me he died in an instant, and nothing could have saved him. They don't know how he died yet, but Professor Slughorn said it probably wasn't anything to do with his magic. He said mudblood children have manifested magic for a long time without ever dying or killing anyone because of it. And then they all told me that Dennis probably didn't feel any pain.

He felt fear, though. I saw it. On his face, I mean. He was scared when he died. That probably counts as a kind of pain, doesn't it.

And I keep thinking about what they said was written on the wall by him and Ollivander. "Enemies will be found and fall." Whoever this Heir is, or thinks he is, I don't know how Dennis could be his enemy. He was a mudblood and his magic was going mad, yes, but he was completely loyal, and he would have gladly given away his magic to anyone if he had only been able to. I don't see what makes him more of an enemy than Carrow's mudblood, or Ollivander for that matter. He was just nine years old.

I wonder if they'll tell his parents, but then I don't even know if he has parents. Dennis didn't know if he had them, either.

Current Mood: numb
Current Location: the dormitory

Well I suppose what the Professors Carrow did was only practical, really, but I can see why it might be a little embarrassing for some people. I mean, some halfbloods live with really good and important pureblood guardians, and I wonder what their guardians will think. I just think if we're going to be ~~segregad~~ segregated now then they should have done it all the time so it wasn't so confusing to some people.

Anyway, Teddy and I were talking at lunch about

Oh for Circe's sake....DENNIS? WHERE ARE YOU?

Why are there SCONES all over my bed? There must be about fifty! I told you I don't want any scones with tea, just like I told you last week and the week before. And yet you keep bringing them and can EAT fifty scones, really?

They had better be gone when I get back from supper or I don't know what I'll do with you. I suppose you think you're being helpful but really you're being very disobedient. I thought you knew better than to behave this way, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I haven't been firm enough with you. Well, that's all going to change!

Current Mood: aggravated
Current Location: the dormitory

Mother sent me a book that's meant to improve my French before we go away on holiday. French used to be a part of my and Harry's lessons before we went to Hogwarts, but neither of us worked at it very hard and I've since forgotten a lot of it. This book actually speaks French if you hold your wand or your finger to the word, because accent and pronunciation is supposed to be important. And last night I fell asleep reading it, but soon woke up because it was squawking "je me rends!" in my ear, which made everybody else laugh.

And then Blaise told us that his Mother used to go to France a lot before, and that she says that all of the muggles there are naked. Not completely naked, but walking around with a lot of their bits showing, or with only a fan or a shawl to cover them. I said his Mother must be exagerating and then Teddy tried to join in and say that he'd heard the same thing, that the French muggles are all naked and also maniacs for sex. Even though Teddy is Welsh and hasn't been anywhere. If it's true and the muggles are all naked and maniacs, then I think that the French Ministry is doing a shameful job of handling them. I know that France has all the best food and robes and entertainment, but they obviously don't know how to govern.

Even if Blaise is wrong and they wear clothes, it will be odd to be around muggles the way they used to be, just out in the open. I know that Mother and Father will try to keep them away from me but still, it's strange to think that they won't know I'm a wizard and how to treat me with the proper respect. That's why we're leaving Dennis behind, because I don't want him to get confused or upset.

Current Location: somewhere in the dungeon

Father's last Owl mentioned the importance of writing in my journal and not just writing comments in everyone elses'. I hadn't forgotten, only I've been awfully busy and I'm looking forward to Easter holiday because I think that when I get back, my detentions are over at last.

This last week's detentions were with Professor Lockhart. He wanted me to clean and polish the gallery of art in his office. It's all photographs and paintings of him, usually with someone famous, though in some of them he's standing with one foot on the back of some dark creature that he's conquered. There's really a great load of pictures, and they go all the way up to the ceiling so its good he has one of those sliding ladders like there are in the library. It was funny, though, because I thought the pictures would just be dusty but instead a lot of them were sort of..smeary, I guess. So cleaning them really wasn't that easy.

The real problem was that Dennis came in and tried to help me. I didn't even see him because I was way up on top the ladder and he was way down low near the floor. Only Professor Lockhart came in to check on me and he said he was disappointed that I would recruit my mudblood servant to assist me. Dennis tried to tell him that he came in on his own to help and that Master Draco didn't know he was there, and Professor Lockhart just laughed after that and sent him on his way. But of course Dennis didn't move because he waits until I send him away before he leaves. So I sent him away. But I see now why Harry didn't think Dennis was a very good servant. Because he wants to help you so much but he's too little, or something, to know when and where he should be helping sometimes. I tried to talk to him about never doing anything for me unless I specefically ask for it, and he said that he wouldn't be a very good slave if he did that. That he needs to be able to anticipate my needs to be the best slave there is. I like the idea of him anticipating my needs, but so far he's not very good at it. So after my detentions are over I think I'll have to work on that with him.

One thing I like, though, is that even though they know Dennis is a mudblood, his magic has never manifested - at least not yet. He told me he hopes it never does and I told him I hope so too. If mudbloods steal magic they must steal it from the people they're closest to, so if he decides he can't help it and he needs magic, I'm positive that it's mine that he'll get. I really do wonder how they do that, though. I suppose it's something that the grownups will figure out, eventually.

Here's something else: did anyone see my Aunt Bellatrix at school last week? Around Thursday I think? If she was here it must have been important business, because she didn't come round to say hi to me or to Harry.

Current Location: the dormitory

I was up very late revising last night, as there was too much to fit in yesterday, between listening to the new Weird Sisters' album, games of exploding snap with Harry, and my weekly Owls to Mother, Father, and Hydra. The importance of schoolwork surpasses all of that, of course, so I spent some extra time on the finishing touches, just to be sure.

There really is a lot of schoolwork, isn't there? I mean, it is school, so there should be, but Auntie Bella's Hogwarts stories always seemed to be more about fun and games, like shoving the heads of mudblood students into the toilets, or putting jinxes on their shoes that would make the laces tie together and trip them up. Maybe things were just different back when mudbloods were allowed to be students. I mean, things were worse, obviously, but it was probably fun to put them in their place. Now that they're finally there, it's just a matter of forgetting about them. That would be an easier task if they didn't keep popping up in places where they shouldn't be.

Oh god, I just realised that if mudbloods were once students here, then they probably once sat in our desks and used the same sinks and toilets and ugh, who knows what else. What a revolting thought. Sometimes I wish I hadn't been born with such a vivid imagination.

Current Mood: nauseated
Current Location: the library stacks