Corvus Black
The Inestimable
- Location
- England
Harry Potter and the Scabbard of Excalibur [AU]
- Location
- a place
Look, I'm just going to turn off the sarcasm here because I don't like being mean, which I apologies for. But I really do find these arguments jarring. Lord Hufflepuff helped created a literal school of which every student was forced to learn the theory of how magic works which by the way wasn't taught by a former Ravenclaw, the history of magic was a core class that everyone had to learn, and potions was one of the first classes students are exposed too. Potions, by the way, being a class taught by the head of Slytherin. Herbology, one of the fields of study noted to most rely on having academic knowledge of various things was taught by the head of Hufflepuff. Hermione, a Gryffindor, was literally the most studious people in the book who often threw herself into learning just for the sake of clearly.
Their is ample evidence in canon that showing interest in this sort stuff, even having that interest being a major facet of your life, in no way precludes you from being part of another house. It's not like that'd be the only personality trait Harry ever exhibited either, given the entire rest of this quest up till now.
Not that I even agree with your characterization of the vote. You've been banging about how this would just be learning for the sake of it, but absolutely nothing about the vote option says that at all. The only hint of emotion we get is how he's excited to try using the recipes he's found to make one, which is one of the few practical applications of magic Harry could even pursue without a Wand. You know what sort of person might study magical theory before they had a wand who didn't simply for it for the 'love of learning?' Someone who was deeply excited or interested in doing spellcasting, who thought learning how it worked would mean they would have a leg up to start using as advanced spells as they could as soon as they legally could and had the wand to do so. You know who else might be interested in the history of the wizarding world? Someone who has to live in it who might have practical reasons for figuring out how it's strange society got the way it did to help them navigate it or not repeat the mistakes of past wizards. Maybe even someone whose life was ripped apart by a group of followers of a Dark Lord and the goons of the ministry of magic might have a practical intrest in learning about those groups beliefs, or methodologies, or how they came to be.
Edit: Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of the people thinking about this from a power gaming perspective. I'm just intrested because I'm sure looking into history and how magic works will give Birsie a chance to expound on some cool worldbuilding. But I think trying to say taking these sorts of options is going to lock us into Ravenclaw despite everything else about Harry including the House Blessing is fearmongering.
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Personally I'd rather roll the gacha on the shopping trip/excursion as opposed to getting minor progress on Potions/History of Magic. The latter two won't help us at all versus Death Eaters (we're still probably, what, 2-3 years away from being able to put up any sort of fight against a Death Eater, even with our boons?) Meanwhile, making a contact or coming across a cool item could offer real benefits.
- Location
- USA
Potions will certainly help us when it comes to not being shat upon by a deplorable human being of a Potions teacher that we will get at Hogwarts. Way better than the small small chance of maybe somehow stumbling across an item that may offer benefits that we wouldn't be able to get later on our trip to get a wand.
Two weeks of study will not help us with Snape. Taking it as one of our Trismegistus subjects will, but we don't know if we're doing that. Snape is cruel not because he has high standards but because he *hates* Harry. It is not subject to rational limits. As such, I don't care about trying to impress him at all. Hopefully our ability to ignore the Will mechanic will help ameliorate any fallout from the emotional abuse.
Corvus Black
The Inestimable
- Location
- England
No one has said it yet but on the topic of Snape: He's had to deal with Sirius being a fellow teacher for five years.
I'd prefer not to throw Harry to the wolves without learning the state of the Wizarding World first. Harry doesn't understatnd the dangers of the Wizarding World. He moreover doesn't understand the dangers the Boy-Who-Lived will face in the Wizarding World. Harry's every action will be scrutinized by the public. He might even end up on the newspapers. I don't want to throw grieving, emotional child to the wizarding public right now.
- Location
- a place
I'm mostly voting for studying because I want to give Birdsie the chance to expound on what I'm sure is cool worldbuilding via going into the history of the wizarding world and how magic work in his AU. The stuff we have is already very entertaining. But I think it's wrong to look at the action as just minor progess towards those things that won't let us fight off death eaters and thus it's useless.
We're never going to jump to that level of power in one action, and so every increment means we can reach the level where we can protect ourselves and people around us faster. The fact that we were powerful enough in two to three years in a hypothetical death eater attack to defend ourselves vs being two weeks of study away to do that could come in pretty handy down the line since our enemies are unlikely to do things to us only when we want them too.
But more importantly, these things give Harry a baseline understanding of how Wizarding Society has come to be and likely insight into how it functions now before he has to navigate it. Having historical context could even let us understand some of the social norms before diving headfirst into the life of a wizarding world celebrity or help us understand what 'contacts' we'd be better off making and which are people whose beliefs we'd want to seriously stay away from. Getting a baseline understanding of magic could, for instance, mean the difference between buying a cool magic item that wasn't very helpful but just looked flashy to Harry and our character having the basis to actually understand what might be more valuable to him to grab when he inevitably does go out into the wizarding world
We're never going to jump to that level of power in one action, and so every increment means we can reach the level where we can protect ourselves and people around us faster. The fact that we were powerful enough in two to three years in a hypothetical death eater attack to defend ourselves vs being two weeks of study away to do that could come in pretty handy down the line since our enemies are unlikely to do things to us only when we want them too.
But more importantly, these things give Harry a baseline understanding of how Wizarding Society has come to be and likely insight into how it functions now before he has to navigate it. Having historical context could even let us understand some of the social norms before diving headfirst into the life of a wizarding world celebrity or help us understand what 'contacts' we'd be better off making and which are people whose beliefs we'd want to seriously stay away from. Getting a baseline understanding of magic could, for instance, mean the difference between buying a cool magic item that wasn't very helpful but just looked flashy to Harry and our character having the basis to actually understand what might be more valuable to him to grab when he inevitably does go out into the wizarding world
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- Location
- USA
Of course we are not going to impress Snape without Trismegistus (I'm not sold on having Potions be a Trismegistus pick) nor should we even try to. The goal is to provide him as few chances to mock us as possible. In canon? harry was unable to answer even a single question Snape asked of him. How about we answer at least one or two. Aim to not be an ignorant fool.
And Sara pointed out something real important.We need Harry to gain a better understanding of this AU wizarding world before jumping into. The magic is more powerful and grounded. The tone is darker and gloomier. Lets take it slow and study up a bit more.
Rolen von Keng
Sleeping Green Bear
- Location
- The Wilderness
[X] Interact with Kreacher
[X] Study About Magic
[X] Study About Magic
Solarstream
It's all in the cards
- Location
- Zombie World
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I've been convinced by Urit's argument.
[X] Interact with Kreacher
[X] Study About Magic
[X] Interact with Kreacher
[X] Study About Magic
I'm not - I said knowledge for the sake of it, not knowledge in general.
For example, if I were to develop an interest in Russian literature then it'd serve no practical purpose and thus would fall under the "knowledge for the sake of it"
On the other hand, if I were to develop an interest in, say, fitness and nutrition then it'd be something applicable that I could use in my life and I'd be learning it with a clear goal in mind (i.e applying it).
Another example would be learning for the sake of excelling in our studies (i.e duty)
It isn't just the knowledge, it's about context as well.
I'm sure that Lord Hufflepuff appreciated a studious student as much as anyone else, but it's just that Ravenclaw particularly appriciated such students.
It's true that everyone had to learn history and potions and herbology and all of the other subjects, but those who were paticularly studious or had it be a part of their core charactarization were the Ravenclaws.
It takes a particular kind of person to sit down and just go through a bunch of theory through self-motivation and raw intellectual curiousity alone, which does make it a Ravenclaw trait.
Regarding Hermione, and aside from the fact that the books (more so the first few) are poorly written, we have this little bit of insight:
Hermione is specifically noted to place certain qualities above learning, meaning that while she does have a leaning towards being a Ravenclaw she is ultimately not due to placing more stock on other things.
In this case, we could of course start "correcting" Harry to be more Hufflepuff over time, true, but I'd rather establish that he isn't the kind of person to pursue knowledge for the sake of it and jump over that pitfall right off the bat.
I even wrote that it might make us lean "too" Ravenclaw, which is to say too Raveclaw to correct.
It'd be better for us if Harry studies these things due to a sense of duty to excel and see his studies through than just pure curiousity.
Regarding the charactarization part...
It is true that learning about the theory to get into practice is not a Ravenclaw thing necessarily, but it is a matter of prioritization - establishing a motivation to the action is important, and it was my assumption that since the QM bunched the history and theory parts and emphasized that there is no spellcasting knowledge to be found (i.e knowledge that will aid in spellcasting) that Harry's motivation is towards learning specifically, and that's less than ideal in the context of what we are trying to accomplish.
If you like we can ask @Birdsie about what is Harry's thought process during the "learning" action and what specifically motivates him and if we can establish a specific motivation for him.
Regarding the history part...
While it's true that you can learn about society in the macro level from history books by getting the major details, inferring and filling in the blanks, it'd be a less practical approach (and wouls not give you the full image) than just going outside, seeing how the world is, asking questions to fill the blanks, and reaching for books if need be.
It's not the action specifically, but the context of it, that matters.
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Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
He's kind of bored and trying to distract himself from the fact his entire family died recently.
[X] Study About Magic
I want to get some basic information about how the magic works in this universe before choosing our Trismegistus subjects.
I want to get some basic information about how the magic works in this universe before choosing our Trismegistus subjects.
KidFromPallet
Pokemon Fan
- Location
- Pallet Town
[X] Travel the Wizarding World
[X] Interact with Kreacher
Eh, don't particularly care what wins here. These two just seem like they could be fun to read about. Not to say Studying Magic isn't, but meh. Like I said, don't particularly care any which way.
[X] Interact with Kreacher
Eh, don't particularly care what wins here. These two just seem like they could be fun to read about. Not to say Studying Magic isn't, but meh. Like I said, don't particularly care any which way.
Is it too early for our first omake? Hopefully not.
---
The interminable waiting clawed at Pettigrew's mind even as the cold clawed at his skin. Every creak in the old house made him jump.
Every minute, he cursed Him for forcing him to become his spy. How could a man like Pettigrew stand against the Dark Lord? It was unfair to suggest it, absolutely unfair. No one who had met His gaze, seen the absolute power He commanded, felt His ice-cold fingers gripping at their mind, could think of opposing Him.
And now it had come to this.
The Dark Lord would kill Pettigrew's oldest friend, and then his wife, and then the child. There would be no escape. Maybe then, He would release Pettigrew from His service. Maybe even reward him. Surely, no one could demand more of Pettigrew than he had already given.
Pettigrew was far away from the Potters residence, and if there was any light, any sound, any disturbance around the house, he didn't feel it.
But he felt the Dark Lord's death.
It was there between one moment and the next. Absolute and inescapable, a flash of green upon his vision, a burning on his skin, a scream - a terrible, unnatural, soul-rending scream - and then a burning pain as the Dark Mark on his arm flared into angry life as the flesh it was inscribed on blistered and burst, filling the air with the smell of cooked meat. When it was over, it *might* have been possible to tell there had been something skull-shaped there, but mostly it was a terrible burn.
Pettigrew sat, a coldness growing in his chest.
And then he wrapped up his arm, pulled a cloak over his head, and went to get a drink.
—
It was a lively pub. A woman was bouncing a giggling baby on her lap as she spoke with a pair of friends, a pair of old men yelled jovially at an old TV showing a football game, and a pair of builders fresh off their shift were throwing darts at an old beaten up board. Inoffensive music filled the air along with the chattering sounds of happy patrons. Something was different in the air tonight, and even Muggles could feel it.
Pettigrew sat alone, at a table with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. It didn't help. But some instinct, some quiver of tension, alerted him as the first syllable of the spell was said.
"Avada Kedavra".
The flash of green went flying over Pettigrew's head as he ducked, dropping one of the dart-players without a sound. It happened so fast that no one really knew what had happened, and though there were some confused cries, the screaming didn't really start until the second Killing Curse was thrown a second later, this one blasting apart the table Pettigrew threw himself over.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Pettigrew scrambled for his wand, waving it wildly in the air. "Incendio!" A blast of flame fired forth, coating the area where the Killing Curses had been thrown with flame. A figure was illuminated briefly, a wraith cloaked in flame, and Pettigrew bellowed "Stupefy!".
A flick of a wand deflected the spell into the bar where it blasted shards of glass from broken bottles into the panicking patrons. The figure threw off the Invisibility Cloak with a savage gesture, where it dropped to the ground, flames already flickering out.
Sirius's eyes burned with a fire that Pettigrew had never seen before. "Damn you, Peter! How could you?"
"How could I?" Pettigrew rose shakily to his feet, wand pointed ramrod straight at his friend. "How could you? How could you make me go up against Him? How dare you put this on my shoulders?"
Sirius circled him, his own wand pointed at the traitor. "You volunteered, you pathetic -"
"Volunteered?" Pettigrew's voice cracked. "What else what I was supposed to do? You and James and Remus, so proud, so good. What could I do but try to follow where you lead? But I was never as strong as you. You should have thought of me when you chose your path. I was your friend! How could you send me into His arms?"
Sirius's eyes darted to Pettigrew's bandaged arm. "How long, Peter? How long did you last before you slunk over to their side? What did He promise you?"
"That I'd survive." Pettigrew raised his wand and cried "Verminus!" A black cloud of biting, buzzing insects poured out of his wand, and Sirius's answering spell was absorbed into the bulk as Pettigrew dashed away into the pub, which was largely empty except for a few bodies and a couple Muggles whimpering under cover.
"And that was enough?" Sirius cried a second before he sent a Blasting Curse into the swarm, sending burning wooden shards into the air. "Is there nothing worth more than survival to you?"
"Spoken like a hero," Pettigrew riposted with self-righteous fury. "That was what you never understood, Sirius. I'm not a hero. Not like you." His wand flicked to the side, and he fired a mass of hungry, shadowy tendrils over to where the mother was still sheltering her baby.
"No!" Sirius dove forward, shouting a shielding charm, and Peter swept his wand in front of him creating a wall of jagged daggers, blades glinting blackly as they hung in midair. "Goodbye, Sirius." With another flick, the daggers shot forward as one.
Sirius turned as the barrier he'd created held off the thing Pettigrew conjured, and with almost a sigh, called out, "Annihlilus Totalus."
Before him, a small pinprick of darkness grew into a three-foot wide orb of void, limned with exotic energies. The orb swallowed the blades without sound, and with another push of his wand, Sirius sent it roaring at Pettigrew.
With a grunt, Pettigrew extended his wand, catching the orb between them where it vibrated as the two wizards exerted their wills upon it. "You… wouldn't…" Peter said through gritted teeth. "This… isn't you… Sirius."
Pettigrew's strength quailed before Sirius, who took a step forward, pressing the orb with it. "No, Peter, it isn't. But I don't care."
Sirius's implacable fury was like a wall of glass that the fingers of his mind could not gain purchase on. Pettigrew's entire focus was on pushing away the sphere of destruction, and he was losing. Inch by inch, foot by foot, his death was coming towards him.
"I'm… sorry." Sweat beaded on his face as he spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I wish… it could have been different." Or had he said "I wish I could have been different?" Sirius would never be sure.
"Me too," Sirius whispered. Then Pettigrew's will released its hold on the orb, and it flashed forward, smashing through where Pettigrew had been standing, the wall of the pub, and the next three buildings.
Remus found Sirius later, staring into the bottom of a whiskey glass, surrounded by destruction and dead Muggles.
Sirius was investigated, and his actions were deemed regrettable, but understandable, as he had participated in the destruction of a dangerous Dark Wizard. The street was cleaned up, Obliviations cast, and Sirius was awarded a medal by the Ministry. The casualties were regrettable, but Muggles die when wizards fight.
---
The interminable waiting clawed at Pettigrew's mind even as the cold clawed at his skin. Every creak in the old house made him jump.
Every minute, he cursed Him for forcing him to become his spy. How could a man like Pettigrew stand against the Dark Lord? It was unfair to suggest it, absolutely unfair. No one who had met His gaze, seen the absolute power He commanded, felt His ice-cold fingers gripping at their mind, could think of opposing Him.
And now it had come to this.
The Dark Lord would kill Pettigrew's oldest friend, and then his wife, and then the child. There would be no escape. Maybe then, He would release Pettigrew from His service. Maybe even reward him. Surely, no one could demand more of Pettigrew than he had already given.
Pettigrew was far away from the Potters residence, and if there was any light, any sound, any disturbance around the house, he didn't feel it.
But he felt the Dark Lord's death.
It was there between one moment and the next. Absolute and inescapable, a flash of green upon his vision, a burning on his skin, a scream - a terrible, unnatural, soul-rending scream - and then a burning pain as the Dark Mark on his arm flared into angry life as the flesh it was inscribed on blistered and burst, filling the air with the smell of cooked meat. When it was over, it *might* have been possible to tell there had been something skull-shaped there, but mostly it was a terrible burn.
Pettigrew sat, a coldness growing in his chest.
And then he wrapped up his arm, pulled a cloak over his head, and went to get a drink.
—
It was a lively pub. A woman was bouncing a giggling baby on her lap as she spoke with a pair of friends, a pair of old men yelled jovially at an old TV showing a football game, and a pair of builders fresh off their shift were throwing darts at an old beaten up board. Inoffensive music filled the air along with the chattering sounds of happy patrons. Something was different in the air tonight, and even Muggles could feel it.
Pettigrew sat alone, at a table with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. It didn't help. But some instinct, some quiver of tension, alerted him as the first syllable of the spell was said.
"Avada Kedavra".
The flash of green went flying over Pettigrew's head as he ducked, dropping one of the dart-players without a sound. It happened so fast that no one really knew what had happened, and though there were some confused cries, the screaming didn't really start until the second Killing Curse was thrown a second later, this one blasting apart the table Pettigrew threw himself over.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Pettigrew scrambled for his wand, waving it wildly in the air. "Incendio!" A blast of flame fired forth, coating the area where the Killing Curses had been thrown with flame. A figure was illuminated briefly, a wraith cloaked in flame, and Pettigrew bellowed "Stupefy!".
A flick of a wand deflected the spell into the bar where it blasted shards of glass from broken bottles into the panicking patrons. The figure threw off the Invisibility Cloak with a savage gesture, where it dropped to the ground, flames already flickering out.
Sirius's eyes burned with a fire that Pettigrew had never seen before. "Damn you, Peter! How could you?"
"How could I?" Pettigrew rose shakily to his feet, wand pointed ramrod straight at his friend. "How could you? How could you make me go up against Him? How dare you put this on my shoulders?"
Sirius circled him, his own wand pointed at the traitor. "You volunteered, you pathetic -"
"Volunteered?" Pettigrew's voice cracked. "What else what I was supposed to do? You and James and Remus, so proud, so good. What could I do but try to follow where you lead? But I was never as strong as you. You should have thought of me when you chose your path. I was your friend! How could you send me into His arms?"
Sirius's eyes darted to Pettigrew's bandaged arm. "How long, Peter? How long did you last before you slunk over to their side? What did He promise you?"
"That I'd survive." Pettigrew raised his wand and cried "Verminus!" A black cloud of biting, buzzing insects poured out of his wand, and Sirius's answering spell was absorbed into the bulk as Pettigrew dashed away into the pub, which was largely empty except for a few bodies and a couple Muggles whimpering under cover.
"And that was enough?" Sirius cried a second before he sent a Blasting Curse into the swarm, sending burning wooden shards into the air. "Is there nothing worth more than survival to you?"
"Spoken like a hero," Pettigrew riposted with self-righteous fury. "That was what you never understood, Sirius. I'm not a hero. Not like you." His wand flicked to the side, and he fired a mass of hungry, shadowy tendrils over to where the mother was still sheltering her baby.
"No!" Sirius dove forward, shouting a shielding charm, and Peter swept his wand in front of him creating a wall of jagged daggers, blades glinting blackly as they hung in midair. "Goodbye, Sirius." With another flick, the daggers shot forward as one.
Sirius turned as the barrier he'd created held off the thing Pettigrew conjured, and with almost a sigh, called out, "Annihlilus Totalus."
Before him, a small pinprick of darkness grew into a three-foot wide orb of void, limned with exotic energies. The orb swallowed the blades without sound, and with another push of his wand, Sirius sent it roaring at Pettigrew.
With a grunt, Pettigrew extended his wand, catching the orb between them where it vibrated as the two wizards exerted their wills upon it. "You… wouldn't…" Peter said through gritted teeth. "This… isn't you… Sirius."
Pettigrew's strength quailed before Sirius, who took a step forward, pressing the orb with it. "No, Peter, it isn't. But I don't care."
Sirius's implacable fury was like a wall of glass that the fingers of his mind could not gain purchase on. Pettigrew's entire focus was on pushing away the sphere of destruction, and he was losing. Inch by inch, foot by foot, his death was coming towards him.
"I'm… sorry." Sweat beaded on his face as he spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I wish… it could have been different." Or had he said "I wish I could have been different?" Sirius would never be sure.
"Me too," Sirius whispered. Then Pettigrew's will released its hold on the orb, and it flashed forward, smashing through where Pettigrew had been standing, the wall of the pub, and the next three buildings.
Remus found Sirius later, staring into the bottom of a whiskey glass, surrounded by destruction and dead Muggles.
Sirius was investigated, and his actions were deemed regrettable, but understandable, as he had participated in the destruction of a dangerous Dark Wizard. The street was cleaned up, Obliviations cast, and Sirius was awarded a medal by the Ministry. The casualties were regrettable, but Muggles die when wizards fight.
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A Study in Cyan
Birdsie
Sharp Talons Cleave The Worthy
- Location
- Poland
A Study in Cyan
"Good morning, Master Harry!" announced Kreacher, entering the room with a bright smile.
Harry shuffled under the covers of his comfortable three-piece bedding, frowning and mumbling something incoherent about having five more minutes, but Kreacher continued his duty, stepping further into the room and expounding as if Harry were already fully alert.
"I have prepared a classic English breakfast and a generous dollop of puddings for your perusal. I realize that ordinarily such would be reserved for tea, but I thought you may enjoy it as a treat for brightening your mood." And, like a snap, realization. "Master Harry?"
"Mphmhmrhph," Harry said into his pillow eloquently.
Kreacher frowned deeply, the crease of his frown reaching across his cheeks in an expression that was halfway between sodden distaste and ancillary pity. He pulled up his sleeves and clicked his fingers to push aside the draperies, sending lances of sunlight into Harry's unexpecting face.
Kreacher opened his mouth to resume speaking, but stopped at once, as Harry turned over to the other side in response to the sudden influx of photonic unpleasantness resting on his face - and now, on the back of his head.
"It's eight, Master Harry!" Kreacher shouted. "About time to wake up! Goodness me. Must I really?"
He approached the bed with the footsteps of a confident sergeant about to roll one of his men into a burrito and throw him out the door but hesitated modestly in realization he was dealing with a child, before - carefully - pinching the edge of the bedsheet and, much like one might rip off a band-aid, yanking it off in a full motion. However, the boy who'd rested underneath simply kept lying there with his eyes closed, face contorting into an unconscious grimace as the comfort of his sheet no longer availed him.
"I cannot fathom this," Kreacher squeaked emptily, stepping back with sudden vertigo. "How can someone maintain slumber under such bothersome assault?! What have those Aurors and Muggles done to your sleep cycle?! Master Harry?!"
"Ugh," Harry turned slightly, face digging into the cushion, "Uh-huh. Mphfghm."
Kreacher sighed. "I'll be downstairs to serve your breakfast. Please, be reasonably early." He moved for the door and stopped. "Oh, and don't hesitate to call if you need help in dressing yourself. Master Sirius used to need help with that..."
"Mhm."
Kreacher sighed once more - the sound a candle being extinguished - and moved downstairs.
"I'm exhausted," Harry muttered.
No wonder. Staying up late reading books has a tendency to do that.
"Shhh. Shut up."
But you know what? I think Kreacher's probably right. You're rather lazy, aren't you, Harry?
"I'm not lazy, I'm just tired, really."
Are you taking the piss?
Harry began to tire and grow weary of Geist's antics. He started to repeat the one phrase his mouth was able to enunciate without overstressing his brain to the point where sleep would no longer be possible, "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-"
Oh, he's throwing a wobbly.
"-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-"
Little Potty throwing a wobbly? A wobbly-dobbly?
"-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-"
A wobbly-dobbly gobbly-mobbly shobbly-nobbly?
"-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut uuup! Ugh. There's no way I'm going back to sleep."
I win, boy. Get up, the perfect storm has already passed! We have magic and potions to illegally study! All glory to Gnargoobler the Great!
"I don't even know who that is," Harry mumbled, as he pushed himself off the bed.
As foretold, it was classic English for breakfast; a spread of gently simmering fried eggs, sausages cooked to perfect brown and cut in ridges along the middle, fat crispy bacon slices rich and tender in flavor, a selection of sun-dried tomatoes and mushrooms, and hot, buttered toast. Although Kreacher prepared this much, as soon as Harry started digging in, the House Elf was fast to also serve a mixed green salad with sour cream, a basket of fresh garlic bread, and a side platter of fish and chips with several condiments served in floating saucers that poured their contents out wherever he indicated, which kind of bedazzled Harry. And naturally, there were several puddings to choose from.
As Harry finished up his plate - his seconds, in fact - Kreacher looked on with satisfaction. When Harry indicated he was done, Kreacher used his magical powers to levitate the plates over to be cleaned. A spurt of water poured from the faucet in the kitchen, though Harry couldn't see from where he sat. "I hope that breakfast was to your liking, sir?"
"Very much so!" Harry said with a smile. His smile fell. "Kreacher, I meant to ask you something."
Oh, this ought to be something.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are you called Kreacher?"
Silence.
Harry, you don't ask a House Elf why they're called something.
"It's a portmanteau, sir," Kreacher explained, his face and voice betraying not a mote of disappointment or sadness, but rather, a very clinical and clipped tone, "A most clever crossing between the words creature and screecher."
"Yes, I gathered that," Harry said, leaning forward with a mix of intrigue and disquiet. "But I don't understand why. Why would someone give you such a mean name? I would never call a person something like that."
"It's..." Kreacher stopped, breathed in, and spoke, "It's tradition - wizard custom - to name House Elves in such a fashion."
"Why?" Harry cocked his head. "Don't you want a name that isn't an insult?"
Whoa. Whoa-whoa-whoa, Harry, you can't just-
"It's not my place-" Kreacher stopped himself, breathed in, and looked at Harry with something that resembled weariness. As if, knowing the boy only for a couple of days, he'd already started to become accustomed to his questions. "May I remark on something, sir?"
"Sure."
"You remind me very much of your father," Kreacher stated brusquely, a single eyebrow raised up, lips quirked in a disjointed half-smile. "When we first met, he'd asked me a very similar question. In wizarding society, it's custom for House Elves to receive ugly, demeaning, or monstrous names, in order to remind us that we are creatures lesser than wizards, to remind us where our place is. I understand it may be cruel by your modern sensibilities, but I have learned to live with it, as must every other House Elf if they are to serve our masters properly."
Harry disliked most of what Kreacher said, rather intensely. If Dudley were here, he wouldn't stand for something like this. "Is there any way to free a House Elf?"
"No," Kreacher said blankly, "Nor would I particularly wish to stop serving. Nothing awaits me beyond this life."
"Not even if, like, I gave you a sock?"
"Master Harry, that's probably the silliest thing I've ever heard. How would I be able to do laundry if that were the case? And besides, please do not give me any household items with the intent of freeing me from my lofty status as your House Elf. I'd have nothing to do, and nowhere to go."
"You could stay here," Harry proposed. "And, uh, keep doing what you're doing, if you like it."
"Then what would be the point?"
"Uh," Harry paused. "Because you're a slave. You don't get paid, and have no way to leave."
"Master Harry, I do, in fact, get paid a generous sum, the majority of which I spend on household cleaning items and domestic products," Kreacher disputed, "And I would not want to leave my service behind. I appreciate the sentiment, but as I said, there is nothing else I could do in life. I would appreciate a little goodwill from you when I say that I do not suffer in my role. It would be much wiser to externalize your desire to be helpful and look for House Elves who may be experiencing actual abuse. Although, frankly, maybe you should leave such endeavors for when you are an adult. It's a noble thing to believe in, sir, but not something for a fine young man to get himself involved in."
Harry frowned, but accepted this. He unseated himself and moved for the stairs. "I'm gonna go upstairs and read some books. Call me down for tea."
"Of course, sir."
---
"Hmm." The so-called Black family library was tremendous in size. It was something that Harry might've expected in an actual library, with several long shelves stacked in elegant rows and filled to the brim with tomes and books, some of them ancient, and a few claiming to be from times as recent as the 1970s. "What should I read?"
Anything but history.
"What's so bad about history?" Harry frowned.
As time passes by, I recall more and more of my old life. I can tell you with a bone-deep certainty that history is a terrible subject. I have studied it more than any wizard to have ever lived, in hopes that I would find something helpful, but I can tell you that with every finding, I only found myself growing exponentially more disappointed.
"Pfft. Yeah, what's so disappointing about history?"
The Wizengamot - the wizard government - essentially forbade the goblins from having wands. And so there was a Goblin Rebellion, which the wizards won handily. And do you know what the wizards decided in the wake of this?
Harry's mind raced to produce a guess. "Uh, probably something terrible like goblin genocide?"
No. They decided the goblins should own all banks, work at them, and run the economy for us.
Harry was speechless.
Let that fucking sink in.
Harry mumbled, disbelieving, "I think it already kind of did."
And you know, I studied this subject extensively, I asked people about this. No matter who you ask, there'll be some excuse for it. 'Ah, but you see, it simply made sense given political pressure from A or B,' or, 'A number of factors unrelated to the Goblin Rebellion and persecution led to this, young man,' or, 'Why are you racist towards goblinkind?' All of those responses are irritating. But me? I can tell you the actual reason because I personally broke into the Department of Mysteries in my mid-twenties, and, among the various things I discovered and did down there, I managed to track down the preserved memories of the Minister at the time. Do you want to know the actual reason he gave them the banks? The deciding factor behind the Wizengamot's decision at the time? The truth which lies at the core, no matter how they attempt to obscure it?
A part of Harry's mind was stuck on the, 'broke into the Department of Mysteries,' bit, which sounded distinctly illegal and dubious, but he was curious. "Yeah?"
They were fucking bored with running the economy. It was too much of a bother for them. They wanted someone else to handle it, so they could spend more of their august time sentencing criminals of dubious guilt to Azkaban or deciding whether or not to steal a Muggle train and repurpose it into Hogwarts transportation for shits and giggles.
"I, uh, what?"
And then, Geist threw off the handle and went on a rant, but Harry didn't understand half of what he was referring to, and kind of tuned him out.
Yep. And you know, as I studied history, I discovered the reason why, and it was the biggest disappointment of any I made while studying history. Our magic? The waving of a wand to produce wondrous effects? Putting firewood and snail mucus into a cauldron and cooking it to make a potion that heals wounds? The reason it's so stupidly simple, easy enough for a ten-year-old to learn, but theoretically complex enough for an old man to master? The reason it's so arbitrary and seems to make no sense upon closer scrutiny? It's because it was originally a goddamn children's toy the Atlanteans made. The reason Gamp's law exists - the reason why magic can be used to make stainless steel and ingots of pure gold, but can't be used to make food - is because someone's mother over six-thousand years ago didn't want her kid eating too much candy before dinner.
Here's what I discovered from my studies of history, Harry: Wizards? Wizards are goddamn manchildren. And the reason for them being manchildren is specifically because their magic is a goddamn toy, which they never stop playing with. They have no sense of right and wrong; no sense of up and down, nothing that can be described as conventional wisdom or even pattern recognition. They are spiteful, racist, irrational bastards, because mentally and emotionally they never significantly advance past the age at which they enter Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or Durmstrang or wherever. Because we've been raised by Muggles, for you or me, morality is good and evil, with some gray space in between to indicate situations where it's hard to tell, but for wizards, morality is beans and your favorite Quidditch team.
Hey, Harry, what'd happen if we took a chicken's egg, enchanted it, and made a toad sit on it? Normally, you'd reply, 'I don't know, and I'm not interested in finding out,' but a fucking wizard? A wizard is going to keep trying until what hatches is a snake bigger than a house that kills you upon making eye contact.
It's an insane world. A world of people who never grew up. It's gotten marginally better and slightly less insane ever since the first major influx of Muggleborn wizards in the late 1920s, and then slightly better after I rose to power. There are people here nowadays whose inner motivations and demeanor actually make a lick of sense, and even the most egregious offenders of this infantilism have gotten better, but the disease is still here, and we must fight it, or it- it- hey, are you even paying attention?
At some point during Geist's ramblings, Harry picked up a book on the History of Hogwarts and started reading. He was already on the third page.
Fine. Be that way, then, Harry. Don't listen to me. Don't heed my warnings. You'll regret it when someone kills your favorite owl and turns its corpse into a hat simply because their wand let them do so with a few sweeps of the wrist.
Harry flipped to the next page, yawning. "I think you're being kind of irrational and excessive."
Hmph.
---
As the next chapter approaches, you'll meet your caretaker, Sirius Black. However, until then, you should decide what your attitude is regarding certain things.
First, how do you go about Kreacher's situation?
[ ] He's Fine - Although Harry continues on believing that giving House Elves names like Kreacher is abusive, he'll concur with Kreacher's words on the subject matter for now.
[ ] Help Him - Alternatively, Harry may become an early, avid supporter of House Elf rights. Also, he'll think up a name for Kreacher that isn't completely terrible and use it in conversation. "Kreacher was your slave name. You are now Johnny Buddha."
And second, what should you focus on studying? Pick one.
[ ] History of Magic - Maybe Geist dislikes the subject, but what does he know? As you've found out from Hogwarts: A History, there is much to learn both about the school itself and the wider wizarding world. Geist made a compelling argument about wizards being childish, but all-in-all, you think his theories are far-fetched and silly.
[ ] Magic Theory - A lot of the gritty stuff that lies at the center of magical casting. Study how the movements of a wand and the pronunciation of Latin words affect the results of a given spell, as well as how spells and other magics correspond.
[ ] Potion-Making - There are scattered recipes for Stinchcombe's formula, Pepperup Potion, the Antidote for Common Poisons, the Sagacity Elixir, Boil-Bursting Unction, the Greater Extract of Rue, All-Binding Glue, and the Essence of Oils in the library, and most of these can be made without a wand. Maybe Harry ought to try them out?
"Good morning, Master Harry!" announced Kreacher, entering the room with a bright smile.
Harry shuffled under the covers of his comfortable three-piece bedding, frowning and mumbling something incoherent about having five more minutes, but Kreacher continued his duty, stepping further into the room and expounding as if Harry were already fully alert.
"I have prepared a classic English breakfast and a generous dollop of puddings for your perusal. I realize that ordinarily such would be reserved for tea, but I thought you may enjoy it as a treat for brightening your mood." And, like a snap, realization. "Master Harry?"
"Mphmhmrhph," Harry said into his pillow eloquently.
Kreacher frowned deeply, the crease of his frown reaching across his cheeks in an expression that was halfway between sodden distaste and ancillary pity. He pulled up his sleeves and clicked his fingers to push aside the draperies, sending lances of sunlight into Harry's unexpecting face.
Kreacher opened his mouth to resume speaking, but stopped at once, as Harry turned over to the other side in response to the sudden influx of photonic unpleasantness resting on his face - and now, on the back of his head.
"It's eight, Master Harry!" Kreacher shouted. "About time to wake up! Goodness me. Must I really?"
He approached the bed with the footsteps of a confident sergeant about to roll one of his men into a burrito and throw him out the door but hesitated modestly in realization he was dealing with a child, before - carefully - pinching the edge of the bedsheet and, much like one might rip off a band-aid, yanking it off in a full motion. However, the boy who'd rested underneath simply kept lying there with his eyes closed, face contorting into an unconscious grimace as the comfort of his sheet no longer availed him.
"I cannot fathom this," Kreacher squeaked emptily, stepping back with sudden vertigo. "How can someone maintain slumber under such bothersome assault?! What have those Aurors and Muggles done to your sleep cycle?! Master Harry?!"
"Ugh," Harry turned slightly, face digging into the cushion, "Uh-huh. Mphfghm."
Kreacher sighed. "I'll be downstairs to serve your breakfast. Please, be reasonably early." He moved for the door and stopped. "Oh, and don't hesitate to call if you need help in dressing yourself. Master Sirius used to need help with that..."
"Mhm."
Kreacher sighed once more - the sound a candle being extinguished - and moved downstairs.
"I'm exhausted," Harry muttered.
No wonder. Staying up late reading books has a tendency to do that.
"Shhh. Shut up."
But you know what? I think Kreacher's probably right. You're rather lazy, aren't you, Harry?
"I'm not lazy, I'm just tired, really."
Are you taking the piss?
Harry began to tire and grow weary of Geist's antics. He started to repeat the one phrase his mouth was able to enunciate without overstressing his brain to the point where sleep would no longer be possible, "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-"
Oh, he's throwing a wobbly.
"-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-"
Little Potty throwing a wobbly? A wobbly-dobbly?
"-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-"
A wobbly-dobbly gobbly-mobbly shobbly-nobbly?
"-shut up, shut up, shut up, shut uuup! Ugh. There's no way I'm going back to sleep."
I win, boy. Get up, the perfect storm has already passed! We have magic and potions to illegally study! All glory to Gnargoobler the Great!
"I don't even know who that is," Harry mumbled, as he pushed himself off the bed.
As foretold, it was classic English for breakfast; a spread of gently simmering fried eggs, sausages cooked to perfect brown and cut in ridges along the middle, fat crispy bacon slices rich and tender in flavor, a selection of sun-dried tomatoes and mushrooms, and hot, buttered toast. Although Kreacher prepared this much, as soon as Harry started digging in, the House Elf was fast to also serve a mixed green salad with sour cream, a basket of fresh garlic bread, and a side platter of fish and chips with several condiments served in floating saucers that poured their contents out wherever he indicated, which kind of bedazzled Harry. And naturally, there were several puddings to choose from.
As Harry finished up his plate - his seconds, in fact - Kreacher looked on with satisfaction. When Harry indicated he was done, Kreacher used his magical powers to levitate the plates over to be cleaned. A spurt of water poured from the faucet in the kitchen, though Harry couldn't see from where he sat. "I hope that breakfast was to your liking, sir?"
"Very much so!" Harry said with a smile. His smile fell. "Kreacher, I meant to ask you something."
Oh, this ought to be something.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why are you called Kreacher?"
Silence.
Harry, you don't ask a House Elf why they're called something.
"It's a portmanteau, sir," Kreacher explained, his face and voice betraying not a mote of disappointment or sadness, but rather, a very clinical and clipped tone, "A most clever crossing between the words creature and screecher."
"Yes, I gathered that," Harry said, leaning forward with a mix of intrigue and disquiet. "But I don't understand why. Why would someone give you such a mean name? I would never call a person something like that."
"It's..." Kreacher stopped, breathed in, and spoke, "It's tradition - wizard custom - to name House Elves in such a fashion."
"Why?" Harry cocked his head. "Don't you want a name that isn't an insult?"
Whoa. Whoa-whoa-whoa, Harry, you can't just-
"It's not my place-" Kreacher stopped himself, breathed in, and looked at Harry with something that resembled weariness. As if, knowing the boy only for a couple of days, he'd already started to become accustomed to his questions. "May I remark on something, sir?"
"Sure."
"You remind me very much of your father," Kreacher stated brusquely, a single eyebrow raised up, lips quirked in a disjointed half-smile. "When we first met, he'd asked me a very similar question. In wizarding society, it's custom for House Elves to receive ugly, demeaning, or monstrous names, in order to remind us that we are creatures lesser than wizards, to remind us where our place is. I understand it may be cruel by your modern sensibilities, but I have learned to live with it, as must every other House Elf if they are to serve our masters properly."
Harry disliked most of what Kreacher said, rather intensely. If Dudley were here, he wouldn't stand for something like this. "Is there any way to free a House Elf?"
"No," Kreacher said blankly, "Nor would I particularly wish to stop serving. Nothing awaits me beyond this life."
"Not even if, like, I gave you a sock?"
"Master Harry, that's probably the silliest thing I've ever heard. How would I be able to do laundry if that were the case? And besides, please do not give me any household items with the intent of freeing me from my lofty status as your House Elf. I'd have nothing to do, and nowhere to go."
"You could stay here," Harry proposed. "And, uh, keep doing what you're doing, if you like it."
"Then what would be the point?"
"Uh," Harry paused. "Because you're a slave. You don't get paid, and have no way to leave."
"Master Harry, I do, in fact, get paid a generous sum, the majority of which I spend on household cleaning items and domestic products," Kreacher disputed, "And I would not want to leave my service behind. I appreciate the sentiment, but as I said, there is nothing else I could do in life. I would appreciate a little goodwill from you when I say that I do not suffer in my role. It would be much wiser to externalize your desire to be helpful and look for House Elves who may be experiencing actual abuse. Although, frankly, maybe you should leave such endeavors for when you are an adult. It's a noble thing to believe in, sir, but not something for a fine young man to get himself involved in."
Harry frowned, but accepted this. He unseated himself and moved for the stairs. "I'm gonna go upstairs and read some books. Call me down for tea."
"Of course, sir."
---
"Hmm." The so-called Black family library was tremendous in size. It was something that Harry might've expected in an actual library, with several long shelves stacked in elegant rows and filled to the brim with tomes and books, some of them ancient, and a few claiming to be from times as recent as the 1970s. "What should I read?"
Anything but history.
"What's so bad about history?" Harry frowned.
As time passes by, I recall more and more of my old life. I can tell you with a bone-deep certainty that history is a terrible subject. I have studied it more than any wizard to have ever lived, in hopes that I would find something helpful, but I can tell you that with every finding, I only found myself growing exponentially more disappointed.
"Pfft. Yeah, what's so disappointing about history?"
The Wizengamot - the wizard government - essentially forbade the goblins from having wands. And so there was a Goblin Rebellion, which the wizards won handily. And do you know what the wizards decided in the wake of this?
Harry's mind raced to produce a guess. "Uh, probably something terrible like goblin genocide?"
No. They decided the goblins should own all banks, work at them, and run the economy for us.
Harry was speechless.
Let that fucking sink in.
Harry mumbled, disbelieving, "I think it already kind of did."
And you know, I studied this subject extensively, I asked people about this. No matter who you ask, there'll be some excuse for it. 'Ah, but you see, it simply made sense given political pressure from A or B,' or, 'A number of factors unrelated to the Goblin Rebellion and persecution led to this, young man,' or, 'Why are you racist towards goblinkind?' All of those responses are irritating. But me? I can tell you the actual reason because I personally broke into the Department of Mysteries in my mid-twenties, and, among the various things I discovered and did down there, I managed to track down the preserved memories of the Minister at the time. Do you want to know the actual reason he gave them the banks? The deciding factor behind the Wizengamot's decision at the time? The truth which lies at the core, no matter how they attempt to obscure it?
A part of Harry's mind was stuck on the, 'broke into the Department of Mysteries,' bit, which sounded distinctly illegal and dubious, but he was curious. "Yeah?"
They were fucking bored with running the economy. It was too much of a bother for them. They wanted someone else to handle it, so they could spend more of their august time sentencing criminals of dubious guilt to Azkaban or deciding whether or not to steal a Muggle train and repurpose it into Hogwarts transportation for shits and giggles.
"I, uh, what?"
And then, Geist threw off the handle and went on a rant, but Harry didn't understand half of what he was referring to, and kind of tuned him out.
Yep. And you know, as I studied history, I discovered the reason why, and it was the biggest disappointment of any I made while studying history. Our magic? The waving of a wand to produce wondrous effects? Putting firewood and snail mucus into a cauldron and cooking it to make a potion that heals wounds? The reason it's so stupidly simple, easy enough for a ten-year-old to learn, but theoretically complex enough for an old man to master? The reason it's so arbitrary and seems to make no sense upon closer scrutiny? It's because it was originally a goddamn children's toy the Atlanteans made. The reason Gamp's law exists - the reason why magic can be used to make stainless steel and ingots of pure gold, but can't be used to make food - is because someone's mother over six-thousand years ago didn't want her kid eating too much candy before dinner.
Here's what I discovered from my studies of history, Harry: Wizards? Wizards are goddamn manchildren. And the reason for them being manchildren is specifically because their magic is a goddamn toy, which they never stop playing with. They have no sense of right and wrong; no sense of up and down, nothing that can be described as conventional wisdom or even pattern recognition. They are spiteful, racist, irrational bastards, because mentally and emotionally they never significantly advance past the age at which they enter Hogwarts or Beauxbatons or Durmstrang or wherever. Because we've been raised by Muggles, for you or me, morality is good and evil, with some gray space in between to indicate situations where it's hard to tell, but for wizards, morality is beans and your favorite Quidditch team.
Hey, Harry, what'd happen if we took a chicken's egg, enchanted it, and made a toad sit on it? Normally, you'd reply, 'I don't know, and I'm not interested in finding out,' but a fucking wizard? A wizard is going to keep trying until what hatches is a snake bigger than a house that kills you upon making eye contact.
It's an insane world. A world of people who never grew up. It's gotten marginally better and slightly less insane ever since the first major influx of Muggleborn wizards in the late 1920s, and then slightly better after I rose to power. There are people here nowadays whose inner motivations and demeanor actually make a lick of sense, and even the most egregious offenders of this infantilism have gotten better, but the disease is still here, and we must fight it, or it- it- hey, are you even paying attention?
At some point during Geist's ramblings, Harry picked up a book on the History of Hogwarts and started reading. He was already on the third page.
Fine. Be that way, then, Harry. Don't listen to me. Don't heed my warnings. You'll regret it when someone kills your favorite owl and turns its corpse into a hat simply because their wand let them do so with a few sweeps of the wrist.
Harry flipped to the next page, yawning. "I think you're being kind of irrational and excessive."
Hmph.
---
As the next chapter approaches, you'll meet your caretaker, Sirius Black. However, until then, you should decide what your attitude is regarding certain things.
First, how do you go about Kreacher's situation?
[ ] He's Fine - Although Harry continues on believing that giving House Elves names like Kreacher is abusive, he'll concur with Kreacher's words on the subject matter for now.
[ ] Help Him - Alternatively, Harry may become an early, avid supporter of House Elf rights. Also, he'll think up a name for Kreacher that isn't completely terrible and use it in conversation. "Kreacher was your slave name. You are now Johnny Buddha."
And second, what should you focus on studying? Pick one.
[ ] History of Magic - Maybe Geist dislikes the subject, but what does he know? As you've found out from Hogwarts: A History, there is much to learn both about the school itself and the wider wizarding world. Geist made a compelling argument about wizards being childish, but all-in-all, you think his theories are far-fetched and silly.
[ ] Magic Theory - A lot of the gritty stuff that lies at the center of magical casting. Study how the movements of a wand and the pronunciation of Latin words affect the results of a given spell, as well as how spells and other magics correspond.
[ ] Potion-Making - There are scattered recipes for Stinchcombe's formula, Pepperup Potion, the Antidote for Common Poisons, the Sagacity Elixir, Boil-Bursting Unction, the Greater Extract of Rue, All-Binding Glue, and the Essence of Oils in the library, and most of these can be made without a wand. Maybe Harry ought to try them out?
[X] He's Fine [x] Magic Theory
[X] Magic Theory
The question Harry asks, if he can free Kreacher with a sock, doesn't make sense in the story and just feels included to make fun of the source material to the detriment of this quest.
I don't want to commit to one direction in respect to Kreacher yet. While I wouldn't want to act against his stated desires, we are lacking so much knowledge and context to judge his words. Are they made under duress? Is this the prevalent opinion of house elves? What is the historical and sociological context of their enslavement? While it feels categorically wrong for me to deprive other sentient beings of their freedoms, if they made this decision on their own and are happy with it, how can I force them to behave and live according to human morals if they don't want to.
The question Harry asks, if he can free Kreacher with a sock, doesn't make sense in the story and just feels included to make fun of the source material to the detriment of this quest.
I don't want to commit to one direction in respect to Kreacher yet. While I wouldn't want to act against his stated desires, we are lacking so much knowledge and context to judge his words. Are they made under duress? Is this the prevalent opinion of house elves? What is the historical and sociological context of their enslavement? While it feels categorically wrong for me to deprive other sentient beings of their freedoms, if they made this decision on their own and are happy with it, how can I force them to behave and live according to human morals if they don't want to.
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