JADIS (knifed) wrote in raveled, @ 2017-01-29 12:52:00 |
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"They should teach us this in school." Bella chews the end of her braid. Around the chandelier circles the snake she's created, a wraith of shadow and smoke and blood. "In school." Cygnus sits beside her, fingers steepled, and after a moment, he removes the monogrammed cigarette case from his breast pocket and lights one. People say they're alike, but that's in eyes and hair and humor. His little gestures—the half smile, the contemplative pause before speaking—are all Andromeda's. Rather than jealous, the thought of it makes her happy. She's never denied playing favorites. "Who do you go to school with, Bellatrix?" Her nose wrinkles instinctively. Among the soon-to-be third years alone: children of muggle lorry drivers and greengrocers, children of blood traitors and half bloods, all jumbled together in mediocrity. "Everyone." "Precisely." A tendril of smoke curls up from his cigarette; the snake swoops towards it, tongue flicking hungrily. "Dark magic, as you know, is the oldest form of magic—pure chaos harnessed. This kind of power is your birthright. It isn't for everyone." "They could teach it to only select students," she says stubbornly, fingers tracing over a page of Latin. "Instead of this defence rubbish we have to endure." "When you can convince Dumbledore of that… saluto vos." He lifts the cigarette in a mock toast. She makes a huffing noise, jabbing her wand at the snake so it coils again towards the chandelier. "Your great-great-grandfather—" Cygnus glances at the frame, but it's empty as usual; Phineas Nigellus Black has portraits in more interesting spaces than this particular library. "Your great-great-grandfather couldn't fight the Ministry's push to, ah, equalize access to all Hogwarts classes. The next best thing was removing this realm of study from the curriculum entirely, to ensure it would be reserved for the use of ancient pureblood lines." "Like the Knights?" "Like the Knights." "Then this is a bunker. We're being trained for a life in hiding." "Not hiding, Bella, adaptation. We adapt to survive." Hiding, she still thinks, and the thought makes her nerves hum with anger at the injustice. She turns the page, squinting at illustrations that have blurred with age. One day, they'll take back everything. She feels a gentle tug at the end of her braid and looks at Cygnus distractedly. "What?" "Pay attention to what you create." There's a sudden choking, sputtering noise from above: tail in mouth, the shadow snake is consuming itself. |