Wednesday, January 9, 1924 The Potions Classroom
4:00 PM
⛤
"Take your seats. Quietly." The Ravenclaw Head observed from her place at the front of the classroom, honey-brown eyes studying each student as they filtered in. Sleeping soundly against her chest in his little wrap, was Jude. The toddler was nearly two years old, and big for his age, but no less the clingy mummy's boy that wouldn't be handed off for his evening nap.
Julia hadn't asked for this assignment. In truth, she'd felt like she'd taken on enough in this bloody school, while others seemed to coast along at a lesiurely place, all while collecting the same pay cheque. It wasn't enough that she was Potions professor, the school librarian and the Ravenclaw Head of House, but now she was forced to teach a class the ministry - or her brother, depending on how one looked at it - was mandating.
Wizarding Civics. Required for muggleborn children. Aimed at ensuring the understanding of place, history, and the importance of class, purity and devotion to one's own.
"No one else will do, Jules. You're the only one I trust to do it right."
There was a curse in competence and trust.
Since her elder brother had been elected to Minister, Julia had watched as the fabric of not only her family, but the wizarding world itself was beginning to change. It was insidious, quiet, creeping, nearly indiscernable to those who didn't know it was happening. Within the walls of the Laurence estate, Julia knew well her brother's plans, including those he kept close against his breast, sharing them with not even his Senior Undersecretary or closest advisors.
Julia had always been James's right hand when it came to the politics of family and dynasty. And while she didn't share his beliefs with the same zeal and resolution, Julia found merit in them, if only at the basic of levels. She shared as much, but James didn't heed her concerns or advice, nearly as much as he used to. What lay in wait for the world as they knew it, she could only begin to surmise, but if she were correct, all of these children were in for a rude awakening.
Wasting no time, a quick flick of her wand saw the doors closing behind the last straggler, and she turned without fanfare to her students.
"As all of you know, having now spent three months at minimum in this world that was once foreign to you, no two magic wielders are the same." She looked over them, one by one. Brown eyes. Blue. Gray. Hazel. Green. Blonde hair. Black. Curly, straight. Tall, short. No two of them were exactly alike. "Your magic is as inherent to you as your name. In ancient times, a surname identified your origin. Whether that be your tribe, your clan, your village. Today, your surname identifies your family and the ancestors from which you descend."
Her hand stroked idly through her son's auburn hair as she wandered between the tables. "That descension, that name, that blood, carries the magic that you now wield." She paused for a moment, tightening her jaw at what she knew she needed to say next, but offered Avery a small smile as she passed him. "There are three types of magical blood that our government recognizes. Muggleborns," she indicated widely to the class, "or those born of muggle parents with no recognized magical ancestry. Halfbloods, the largest population of wizards. Descended from a varying ratio of wizards and muggles." She stopped, her heels clicking quietly as she straightened.
"And rarest of all, purebloods. Those born from pure magical blood containing no muggle ancestry."
Moving towards the front of the classroom, Julia flicked her wand, her neat handwriting appearing in gold lettering in the air.
"Given that purebloods represent the rarest of our magical population, and that their ancestry constitutes an unbroken inheritance spanning centuries, should we regard the preservation of those bloodlines as a privilege reserved for the few, or a duty incumbent upon us all?"
OOC: Hey party people. Welcome to Wizarding Civics for Mudbloods: Why We're All Better Than You. I'm your host, Amber and I'll be happy to take you on this little journey through blood purity politics. This class is aimed IC for Muggleborn characters, but I highly highly welcome any students that would like to join in. Julia is happy to educate everyone.
Because this thread is part of the 'Golden World' plot, I will update this thread every three days to keep the storyline moving. The thread will have a natural end, but I will give the heads up when we're reaching that peak.
Thank you for joining us at the beginning of fascism progress.
she is like a cat in the dark
And Then She Is The Darkness
Maevie slumped into her chair, lacklustre and sullen as her head landed on her propped-up hand. Typically not the type to moan about classes in any meaningful way, no matter how little interest a subject elicited, this sort of mood was entirely new to her and anyone who knew her.
But something about Wizarding Civics irked her.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, it needled under her skin like tiny sparks of electricity, prickling in ways that made her want to step back and distance herself. As though something in her blood was trying to warn her of something, but Maevie never seemed to understand. Most of what they’d covered so far seemed practical enough, nothing she felt particularly strange about, just a bunch of philosophising and theorising. It was quite boring, almost like History of Magic, but instead of putting her to sleep altogether, Wizarding Civics kept her awake in ways she didn’t comprehend.
Perhaps it was because mandatory attendance extended solely to those like her. Muggleborns. Or perhaps it was the underlying tone, or the atmosphere. Whatever it was, Maevie hardly managed to conceal her discomfort.
The moment the doors closed, Mrs Barlowe began her lesson.
Maevie forced herself to straighten in her seat—slouching was for sacks of potatoes, not young ladies, her mum always said—and follow Mrs Barlowe’s words on blood purity.
She had never quite understood the term. Purity. Did her parentage mean she was dirty somehow? Less? Beneath? Couldn’t she perform the same kind of magic as Benji, or Rae, or Tilly? Was she faulty because she hadn’t grown up in the wizarding world as others had?
Maevie’s brain drew a blank on Mrs Barlowe’s question.
Her brow knitted. “What duty?” she blurted without prompting, giving a slight shake of her head. “Purebloods only marry purebloods to preserve their bloodlines and magical inheritance, so what’s left? Sounds like there's not much for us to do, is there?”
Avery wasn't one to complain.
Well, actually, he was one to complain, loudly and garishly when he didn't appreciate or like something that was happening. However, Avery was a creature of opportunity. He complained only when it benefitted him. He praised others, only if it meant that he believed such praise would encourage the person to continue to act in a way that benefitted him. Nothing Avery did - save for the efforts he made for his family - was selfless or without thought.
The young boy tried to be purposeful in all that he did and said, whether he was offering up thoughts or opinions, or simply trying to share an interesting story with someone. Avery was beginning to understand that his words held meaning, beyond the rambling he enjoyed partaking in, and while he had plenty to say...not everything was beneficial to say.
There was no reason to complain about Wizarding Civics. As much as Avery found the subject matter rather...strange...the Ministry had deemed it a requirement. Lawful. Unavoidable for students like him. What was the point in complaining to Professor Barlowe - the lady one - about something he was required to take regardless?
"Your magic is as inherent to you as your name. In ancient times, a surname identified your origin. Whether that be your tribe, your clan, your village. Today, your surname identifies your family and the ancestors from which you descend."
Hmm. Avery had never found a real interest in genealogy before. He knew his family. He knew the people he descended from for the most part. His father's family had all been Hales, he supposed. Farmers and workers of the land of all types. He knew his grandfather once owned the farm his father now did. None of them had magic, so something in Avery's DNA had gone wrong somewhere. Or right.
He wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to infer from being born of muggles. It almost seemed like...it was something that shouldn't have happened, according to the Ministry.
"Given that purebloods represent the rarest of our magical population, and that their ancestry constitutes an unbroken inheritance spanning centuries, should we regard the preservation of those bloodlines as a privilege reserved for the few, or a duty incumbent upon us all?"
“Purebloods only marry purebloods to preserve their bloodlines and magical inheritance, so what’s left? Sounds like there's not much for us to do, is there?”
Maevie seemed a little sassier than usual. Avery wasn't sure he liked it. He preferred easier, predictable personalities amongst his cohorts.
Maevie Golding was being snarky. It made her unpredictable. It made her less desirable, even amongst the Hufflepuffs. "Actually, Maevie," Avery offered, raising his hand and speaking before he was called on, "The argument could be made that by muggleborns removing themselves from the equation - meaning not breeding with the purebloods - we're actually doing our part to ensure the survival of superior bloodlines."
He paused. "If there is such a thing." He hadn't actually experimented on the different types of blood to see if pureblood, halfblood or muggleborn carried various amounts of magical dna that could affect their performance as wizards and witches.
Maybe he'd study it when he got his tuberculosis cure all sorted out.
Tulip had heard rumblings around the wizarding Civics classes, it had been talked about in the Gryffindor common room, and at the table, next to Hufflepuff they had a high muggleborn population. But she wasn't here for anything she'd heard in terms of gossip from the common room. She had initially not intended to go anywhere near this class especially as Barking Barlowe was teaching it and the less time she spent near that crazy woman the better. She never forgot the term she actually taught them dark arts, she played favourites and that twit Benji was somehow related to her.
Attending something so insane as a class based on who your parents were just seemed bonkers to Tulip and she had been highly vocal about it too. That was until her youngest sister had cornered her down in the CoMC classrooms. Blossom was worried about the classes, lots of her little Hufflepuff friends had been assigned this class. Tulip had asked her why she cared which turned into a rant and tears only stopped when Tulip agreed to listen. She'd asked why the human tornado that was Poppy couldn't do it, she was a Hufflepuff after all, and Blossom pointed out she needed someone who disrupted things not destroyed. Tulip was actually okay with that description. But the turning point was when Blossom had told her it was Professor Barlowe taking the class. Tulip had exclaimed "Barking Barlowe the Bitch of Hogwarts" to which Blossom was horrified that her sister used that name, Tulip had pointed out she had worse and would absolutely go and be a menace in class to make sure no one was mean to her little Hufflepuff friends.
Tulip had found out where and when the class was from a 4th year Gryffindor, it wasn't on her timetable, she didn't have to attend she could go if she chose. And her sister wanted to her to choose. Lots of them didn't want to go to this class, Tulip was not one of them, she'd gone with a bunch of Gryffindor muggleborn first and second years and then found a seat in the back row of tables near the Hufflepuffs and with the Gryffindors.
The class started, oh joy blood purity, like all pure blood families this was a frequent dinner table discussion, Tulip was 99% sure this was the reason one of her older sisters had run off and become a Muggle, she'd been an ex Slytherin quite the drama. Tulip didn't get the drama, her family was pureblood and well it was an absolute disaster, she'd seen Halfblood's and muggleborns from much more well adjusted families. She knew plenty of halfblood and muggleborn kids who were much better wizards and witches than she was.
"There are three types of magical blood that our government recognizes. Muggleborns,""or those born of muggle parents with no recognized magical ancestry. Halfbloods, the largest population of wizards. Descended from a varying ratio of wizards and muggles." And rarest of all, purebloods. Those born from pure magical blood containing no muggle ancestry."
Tulip put up a hand "So do they have like different colour blood? I know mine's red so do Muggleborns have blue blood and that's how you can spot them? and Do Halfbloods have purple blood because you known blue and red make purple." she called, from the back in a way that sounded both sincere and totally disrespectful in only the way Tulip could.
”It’s important Matilda. Things are changing, you need to be aware of the greater world around you. Broaden your scope. Take the class, help Professor Barlowe, maybe you’ll learn something in the process.”
It appeared that Bram was still under the illusion that Matilda’s mind meant something. Oleg had made clear that it was not the case.
Over the Christmas holiday Matilda and her grandfather had discussed the new Minister of Magic and his thoughts on… well, she stopped listening after about ten minutes into the discussion. Which didn’t help when he asked a question. Her silence was all Bram needed to see.
So now, every Wednesday, she would attend the Wizarding Civics class.
Oh joy.
Walking into the classroom, Matilda looked at the students in attendance. All Muggleborns, apparently. Until recently, she didn’t think a lot about blood purity, but her pending marriage to a fellow pureblood family caused her to think about it more. Was it really that big of a deal?
Walking down the halls of Hogwarts, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint a Pureblood or Muggleborn student purely on looks. Surely, there was more to a person than the blood of their parents and those that came before.
Walking over to Professor Barlowe, Matilda gave a small wave and a smile. ”Hello Professor. My grandfather wanted me to attend. If you need a TA or help with anything, I’m at your service.”
She found a seat in the front row, closest to the Professor and waited for the class to begin.
“Purebloods only marry purebloods to preserve their bloodlines and magical inheritance, so what’s left? Sounds like there's not much for us to do, is there?”
Matilda listened quietly, blue eyes moving between Maevie, Avery and Tulip as they offered their opinions. No one sounded angry. More than anything, they sounded confused.
She couldn't blame them.
Until her first year, Matilda had very little insight into the magical world.
Her mother was a pureblood witch, but magic was never a constant in their home. Small charms here and there. Nothing more. Her father was a pureblood, but he wanted nothing to do with magic at all. Matilda later learned that he was a Squib, which explained a lot about how he treated her. The day her magic appeared changed everything. Neither were loving in the traditional sense, but when her magic came in they became almost hostile.
After her first year at Hogwarts, her parents sent her off to live with her grandparents, trading one life for another almost overnight.
When she arrived in London, bloodlines, old families, and expectations became part of her daily life. Even then, Matilda didn’t pay much attention to blood status.
Her family was pureblood. So were their friends.
Now she was engaged to a Zdravkova because they were also pureblood. It was just another expectation she was expected to accept.
The Zdravkovas believed in blood purity, her engagement was a product of that. One day, in the not so distant future, she would marry Drago, bear children and help carry on the family bloodline. A family that began centuries before she was even born.
Was preserving bloodlines really the right answer? What Matilda didn’t understand was the idea that purebloods were better in some way. In fact, there were less and less pureblood families, which meant at some point all the families would be interconnected.
Cousins marrying cousins. Or worse.
Wouldn’t it be better to introduce more bloodlines into the mix?
Sitting back, Matilda waited and listened. Still not sure where she stood on the topic.
All Plants Are Edible...
some only once
Did the Ministry think she didn't have better things to do?
Wizarding Civics. Rae couldn't think of a subject she needed less. With every day that passed, her exams drew closer. Now, more than ever, the girl felt she had something to prove. There were too many people who were waiting for her collapse. They relished the thought that everything she'd worked for would culminate in nothing more than puffs of smoke and the few charred pieces that remained of her dreams.
It wouldn't happen, not so long as she could help it. If it meant pushing through her fatigue and studying every line of every book ever published on healing, then she would. Sleep? Friends? Very important things, but nothing was beyond the purview of what Ruth Anaya was willing to sacrifice in the pursuit of the only future that had ever interested her. The agreement her father had struck felt tenuous at best. They'd gone through with the wedding; she was still at Hogwarts, but it still felt like, at any moment, Roger Burke would find a way to turn the tables and rip away what little comfort she found.
He was hiding something. Rather, Rae got the feeling that there was something she needed to know. Having been forced into alertness because of her early years, she had a sense for that kind of thing but couldn't for the life of her put her finger on it.
And, somehow, with all that going on...they wanted her to care...about blood purity.
What an actual crock of shit.
Rae slumped forward onto the table, disinterest dripping from her caved posture. James was on some sort of trip of his own over there in the Minister's Office. While she wasn't one for politics, she'd heard enough and had seen enough to know that the man likely didn't have anything better to do. Bothering Muggleborns, creating policies that didn't really benefit anyone except maybe the tiny pureblood demographic, the man was clearly bored out of his mind and looking for ways to make his people dance.
"Given that purebloods represent the rarest of our magical population, and that their ancestry constitutes an unbroken inheritance spanning centuries, should we regard the preservation of those bloodlines as a privilege reserved for the few, or a duty incumbent upon us all?"
The seventh-year kept her head down, not out of any sort of shame or uncertainty but because she'd gotten to the end of the page she was reading. She didn't need a lecture on what each blood type was – she wasn't six – and didn't care to consider...whatever question it was that Julia had thrown out. Something about duty?
Hell if she knew.
She cracked a faint smile at the absurdity of Tulip's question but was otherwise focused on the internal structure of the human heart. The healer would be asking her questions when she turned up for a shift later that evening, and all the gibberish about blood wouldn't help her.
Maybe they did bleed blue. Rae couldn't imagine why something like that might have mattered and didn't want to be bothered by such trifles while she still had another 7 pages to get through.
Verdict is in | everybody's
GUILTY
The slam of the door was unnecessary.
The class on civics was unnecessary.
Kathryn peered down at the watch that adorned her wrist, a grimace turning her lips downward. 4 PM wasn't meant for learning about blood purity while her mother offended a room. There was hardly any time left before dinner, and the Ravenclaw had wanted to take Avery to visit her birds. Speaking of the boy, the class became all the more tedious with him being forced to sit somewhere else. It was as nonsensical as the farce of a lesson itself. Kathryn had never thought about blood. For so much of her life, it hadn't made any meaningful difference to the way she and her brother had been treated.
Later, Kathryn had become aware of her blood and what it was meant to be. It had been a stamp on some documents, then a reason to gain the attention of Eleanor Longe and her stoic husband. Blue eyes followed her mother as she crossed the room, the baby strapped to her, a blight she'd prefer not to have been there.
Weren't classes meant to be safe? Why did she have to endure his presence while being made to endure...this?
It was a question that could've swirled around and around in her head were her mind not already occupied by a more curious thought. Blood had never seemed that important, but suddenly, it seemed all the castle wanted them to think about.
It made her wonder. If she hadn't been a pureblood, would she have ever left the orphanage? Would Benji have been picked up? Would her mother have smiled so sweetly at her? Comforted her the way she'd always tried to? The questions caused the fine hairs along her arms and the back of her neck to prickle. Heat crept onto her face, uncomfortable and invasive. Jude was a pureblood, and her baby by real blood. While that never guaranteed love, it did put him in a better position. Was the thing that tethered her to the family she'd slowly accepted really the idea that her ancestors had shunned Muggles and anyone associated with them?
The thought left her with static flooding her limbs.
If the thing that tethered her to the woman who'd claimed her was so horrifyingly out of her control, then it meant that it couldn't have been as secure as she'd allowed herself to believe.
Kathryn unravelled on the inside, remaining a calm ocean on the outside. It would've been difficult for any but the most discerning in the ways and mannerisms of the little girl to realise that anything was amiss. Icy blue glaciers remained impassive, her shoulders perfectly square and her spine as taut as it always was.
She made up her mind to ask her when the lesson ended, to avoid the chaotic buzz of thoughts that would otherwise plague her throughout the rest of the evening. Rest was important. If she wasn't able to get to bed promptly at 10:20, she might not be refreshed for the morning. She would have bags beneath her eyes and potentially an unsightly slouch.
As should've been no surprise to anyone, the little girl offered no response. She only continued to follow the woman with her eyes while her classmates provided responses.
There's nothing left but
SILENCE
Julia had had no illusions that this class would be received well, nor did she anticipate that many of the muggleborn students would appreciate having to attend it. She was prepared for the pushback, but she expected her students to remain respectful all the same.
Julia had always encouraged questions. Even difficult ones. Particularly difficult ones, if the student demonstrated a genuine interest in finding the answer. Miss Golding's question, while rather forward, presented an opportunity for discussion. Mister Hale's, though premature in its conclusion, demonstrated an admirable willingness to examine the implications of the question.
The interruption from the rear of the classroom, however, required no such consideration, nor did Julia need to follow the voice to know exactly whose it was.
Miss Asquith had been a thorn in her - and every other professor's - side as long as the woman could remember. Always prone to outbursts and speaking before she thought, Tulip Asquith seemed to enjoy the attention she received from deliberately disrupting lessons. The question the girl posed was neither clever, nor was it fair.
It was actually rather disrespectful, not to Julia, but to the muggleborn students who were forced to attend such a class. Perhaps Miss Asquith thought she were defending them with her snark, when in reality she was mocking them, whether she believed herself to be doing so or not.
Without so much as a glance in the Gryffindor's direction, Julia's wand flicked, vanishing the chair Tulip sat upon and sending the girl sprawling onto the stone floor. The chair reappeared almost immediately, though rather than returning to its original position, it settled neatly facing a wall corner beside Julia's desk. Tulip's belongings followed, including her wand, nestling themselves inside a drawer that promptly locked. A second flick saw the girl hoisted up by her collar and led to the front of the room, where the invisible hand dropped her into the chair, facing the wall like a naughty toddler sat in time-out.
A third movement of her wand saw a roll of parchment unfurl across the professor's desk. A quill dipped itself into an inkwell and began scratching out a brief correspondence, addressed to the Gryffindor HoH - her husband conveniently enough. Julia hadn't the time, nor the inclination, to entertain a student who hadn't even been required to attend her lesson. The girl's presence had been a privilege, and her continued attendance would now be a matter for Maddox to consider.
Twenty-five points disappeared from Gryffindor's hourglass. Julia continued stroking Jude's hair as the toddler whimpered slightly and then settled back against his mother's chest for more sleep.
"Miss Golding, you've raised an interesting question. The responsibility of preserving a lineage, however, need not necessarily belong exclusively to those who share it."
She moved toward the front of the classroom, her heels clicking softly against the stone.
"Consider instead what a society stands to lose when its oldest institutions are permitted to disappear." She stopped in front of Matilda's desk, nodding lightly for her to retrieve a stack of newly-printed books from atop her desk and begin passing them out. A helper was always appreciated.
The books were rather modest in appearance, bound in navy blue with the Ministry's official seal stamped in gold upon the cover. Beneath it, in neat lettering, was the title:
A Young Witch or Wizard's Guide to Magical Society: History, Heritage, and Civic Responsibility.
Julia had been sent several copies in advance, along with a rather extensive list of topics the Ministry expected her to cover. The book itself was simple enough, written with the younger students in mind, though she suspected some of its contents would prove considerably more difficult to swallow than others.
"Page twelve, please. The Importance of Our Magical Families."
She waited for the rustling of pages to settle, passing by her daughter, with a gentle squeeze of Kathryn's shoulder, before continuing.
"Now, Miss Golding, you raise a perfectly reasonable point. The continuation of a bloodline is, naturally, the responsibility of the family to which it belongs. But the preservation of a family's history, its knowledge, and its contributions to our society need not be."
Julia paused, allowing the girl a moment to consider the distinction.
"Imagine, if you will, that your family has possessed a very special book for hundreds of years. A book containing ancient healing spells, perhaps, or the instructions for a potion that has since been forgotten. If that book were lost, would it be only your family's loss? Or might the rest of the magical world lose something valuable as well?"
She offered the girl a reassuring smile as she continued her walk between the tables. "And Mister Hale, you've made an interesting observation. Refraining from engaging in marital relations with a pureblood certainly would preserve the classification of that family for another generation. However, you've also made an assumption I would caution you against." She stopped in front of his chair, an eyebrow lifting slightly.
"I never used the word 'superior', did I?" She let the question hang in the air for a moment. "Rarity is not synonymous with superiority. Consider, for example, the phoenix. A rare and beautiful creature, certainly, possessing remarkable magical properties. Its tears are capable of healing injuries that might otherwise prove fatal. But does that make it inherently superior to the common barn owl? The owl may possess no such extraordinary gift, yet it serves an important purpose of its own, controlling vermin populations and helping prevent the spread of disease. Would you argue that its contribution is any less valuable simply because it is more common?"
Julia glanced about the classroom, allowing the comparison to settle before drawing their attention back to the subject at hand.
"The same principle may be applied to magical society. The rarity of our oldest families does not, in itself, make them superior to those of more recent magical ancestry. Their importance lies, rather, in the generations of knowledge, traditions, and discoveries they have preserved. Some of those things remain within their families, while others have helped shape the very world in which we live."
Her gaze returned to Maevie.
"So, Miss Golding, while you may not belong to one of those families, you still benefit from the things they have contributed. Just as they may one day benefit from something you contribute yourself."
Julia glanced momentarily over her shoulder at her supply closet door which suddenly rattled from the inside. Merlin. One class. She'd just needed peace for one class. Turning back again, her gaze settled on Ruth, deep in something other than the material at hand, but for this instance, Julia decided to look the other way.
The girl had enough on her plate.
"The question is not whether or not you must marry into a pureblood family to preserve it. It is whether we all have a responsibility to protect the history and traditions that have made our world what it is."
OOC: Sorry for the late update! Next update will be around 10/30!
she is like a cat in the dark
And Then She Is The Darkness
|
