Fic: Politics of passing (Harry Potter)
Sep. 14th, 2014 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flowsoffireTitle: Politics of passing
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/characters: The Noble and Most Ancient Family of Black. ;)
Genre: Family/Humour (ish)
Rating: K+
Word count: c. 1900 words.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: The Black family attends a funeral.
Author's note: This fic is my entry for a challenge on The Dark Lordʼs Most Faithful Forum on Fanfiction.net, with the theme "Funerals."
The story strictly follows the Black Family Tree and centered on the generation before Sirius Black's (overlooking the gross math error that makes Pollux Black a dad at the ripe age of 13 =P), so here is a copy in case you get confused with the many unfamiliar names and connections. (I did my best to make everything as straightforward and clear as it could get, but yeah, lots of fancy names XD)
The day was stifling hot, the sun beating down on them from its hiding place beyond the thick clouds of an overcast sky.
"There will be storms tonight," murmured Alphard Black, clearing his throat.
Walburga scarcely suppressed a snort. "If you have nothing more insightful or interesting to say, brother, do be quiet."
Her sibling made a non-committal noise in response. "Dear me, sister mine, be more careful. You just all but admitted you would be all too willing to listen to my nonsense, should it be entertaining enough. The setting is hardly appropriate."
"You are correct. I am bored stiff. In every sense of the term."
The coffin came hovering in. The chairs were dreadful, her back was killing her, and the baby kicked hard. Dear Salazar, kill me now, she thought.
On Alphardʼs other side, Cygnus Black threw the two of them a warning glance before he resumed staring straight ahead. It was surely quite ironical, he mused with a suppressed sigh, that his siblings should prove less well-mannered than the four-year-old that was his other immediate neighbour. But for all of her youth, little Narcissaʼs sense of duty and propriety was keen, and a solemn stare from her father had been sufficient to turn her into a right little doll; at first one might have wondered if she even allowed herself to breathe. Small and fair, she was like an embodiment of innocence and good behaviour.
The same could not be said of her sisters, however. Heat and boredom made Bellatrix and Andromeda mutter and fidget restlessly, never mind their motherʼs glares and whispered rebukes. Actually, even the picture-perfect youngest was occasionally stealing glances at her siblings, Cygnus realized; the negative influence could not be helped. Why, oh why was just one child not considered quite enough to uphold the family name, he despaired.
Druella Black would certainly not have disagreed; she had the most frightful headache, her hat was ridiculously heavy—she would have to sneak away as soon as possible for a quick feather-light charm—and she really could have murdered her two eldests on the spot, all proprieties be damned. Bellatrix, she had always known, had no patience whatsoever, and whilst Andromeda was collected enough on her own, the sisters’ closeness made the oneʼs agitation automatically pass on to the other.
She was going to scream. Once the coffin had been brought floating in, she had assumed, like everyone, that the worst of the ordeal was over. But no, no—yet one more person was willing to step forth and wax lyrical about the deceased. After his sister, the unbearable Belvina Burke, and his firstborn child Callidora Longbottom nee Black, it was the younger daughter Charis Crouch who now held a long and vibrant speech, back straight, nose red and voice quivery. The womanʼs ugliness was complimented by neither black nor grief, and Druellaʼs irritation left no room for mercifulness. Dead father or no, it couldnʼt possibly be appropriate to ramble so. Then again, she would also have grieved had it been her own father in the grave, surely. But Arcturus II had only been her husband’s great-uncle, and it had to be admitted, she cared nothing for his passing.
Eventually, Charis Crouch was done speaking and trudged her way back to a seat, half-blinded by the tears she could not shed in excessive amounts and terribly wishing she could just blow her nose in peace. Her husband was suppressing yawns, and her near-adult son Bartemius stealing eager glances towards his grandfatherʼs homonyme, the much more influential, charismatic and overall interesting Arcturus Black III, currently patriarch of the Black family. It was not fair. The youngest of the children always suffered such casual slights; as it had been for Arcturus Black the Second, cursed with two brothers and a sister (the two former having thankfully preceded him into the grave), so it was for Charis. The Crouches were a fine family to marry into, for sure… yet the Longbottoms were better, slightly but enough. Even Cedrella running off with her pitiful Weasley scum, flame-haired and pea-brained, had drawn such passionate attention, whereas all Charis got was boredom. Even now, Walburga Black looked like she wished she could deliver early, if that was what it took to get away. Would that not be just her luck… Another dirty little firstborn, stealing her fatherʼs very last hour in the light. The irony of this could have made her weep.
The main speeches having now taken place, the assembly all rose as one before the coffin, now resting on an altar, erupted into a great gush of silvery flames. The fire rose mighty and gleaming, sending flickers of light across the collected, watchful faces, and the nearest relatives stepped forth to behold the spectacle and pay their last respects with the appropriate level of emotion. Meanwhile, the rest of the assembly hovered, the youngest were quietly commanded to behave for a little bit longer, and muttered courtesies began to evolve into small talk. Arcturus Black III successfully avoided the eagerly deferential greetings from young Bartemius Crouch, and endeavoured to look as solemn, courteous yet imposing as a patriarch of the house of Black always ought to be. This he had thankfully never found too difficult. The family around him was numerous, forming a group that was harmonious as well as dignified: siblings and cousins, his own two children as well as the other branches of the family, and quiet outsiders, standing by their spouses or parents while quite aware that they did not have the honour of bearing the name of Black—Crouches, Longbottoms, Charlus Potter with the heavily pregnant Dorea, his own son-in-law Ignatius Prewett. Thank Merlin, Cedrella had known better than to show her face, let alone bring her Weasley husband and the resulting offspring. As long as the little ones kept observing their manners, the ceremony would turn out to be quite perfect. His gaze flickered over the three small heads, one fair, one brown, one dark. A pity there was yet no male heir to be flaunted. But soon his very own grandchild would come into the world; surely his vanity could bear the wait. It would be a son, he told himself, and meant for great things, without a doubt. Yes, the world would talk of the youngest Black, born of the eldest line, to the great pride of the family patriarch himself.
After a murmured word to her always impassive father, Lucretia Prewett nee Black slunk her way amongst the assembly to her brother and the possibility of a few instants of a company that would not be too terribly tedious. "I hope to Salazar that Belvina will not think it opportune to throw another little speech," she told Orion, leaning to kiss her sister-in-law’s cheek. "I might find myself tempted to murder her. Perhaps being a Burke for that long has made her forget all about proprieties? She must have learned a shopkeeper’s ways, as her husband holds no higher wish than to take over old Caractacus’ shady business. Really, I do know the dear departed was her brother, but I would not waste everybody’s time with tearful ramblings if you came to pass, I can promise you. Walburga, dear, are you due soon? You look it. No worries though, pregnancy doesn’t befit you half so badly as it does dear Dorea. Somebody thought it a good idea to have us seated side by side and really, I thought she might explode."
"Lucretia," Orion replied. "I do wish you knew how to keep your mouth shut."
"She never shall. You ought to know that already," Walburga commented, forcing tight lips into a smile. "You look well, Lucretia, dear. Perhaps you ought to try pregnancy on for size. I’m sure your husband cannot wait."
The woman had a short, dry laugh. "Thank you for your concern! I think I will, but you know, I have enjoyed my freedom, seen the world, touched a bit of politics. It is not the same with a child or two, one cannot leave their upbringing to the house-elves, you know? Just imagine what inadequate heirs such neglect could cause. No, education takes patience, for sure, and I prefer biding my time. I thought you would understand, surely you waited long enough yourself."
"Quite right, quite right," Orion swiftly cut in before his spouse could get a chance to respond. "That is probably a good move, Lucretia. Keep waiting as long as you must, and perhaps time will make you more, ah… ripe for motherhood. Whatever you wish. In the meantime, you may get a first, small experience from your future nephew or niece—"
Walburga met his eye, looking fit to spit out flames, and he cleared his throat and fumbled to backtrack. "—once in a while. Or any rate, witnessing the happy event might make you more tempted. Who knows."
"I am not surprised you have such a natural skill with politics, Orion," Lucretia chimed. "You have always been ever so smooth."
"My husband is full of wisdom," Walburga commented in a clipped tone. "I can only hope that my future son will have inherited his insight, and my spirit."
Son. The word alone caught Orion’s attention, enough to dismiss the following jab. It spread a queer warmth throughout his chest, and simultaneously made his ribcage seem to clench. "Now, my dear," he chided, "you know what the healers said, that curse they use offers no guaranteed results…"
"…and one might wonder why. Surely the house of Black is influential enough to get a healer that knows their business," Lucretia added. "How difficult can it be to tell the gender of an unborn heir, after all?"
"…and as there have been known occurrences of mistakes in the past, we may but hope, until the child is born," he finished as though his sister had not spoken.
Walburga gave him her haughtiest frown. "I am well aware, husband," she said. "My maternal intuition tells me that it is a son, yet I will surely not shout it out for the whole of society to hear, until we know for certain. You need not worry about that."
She pretended that Lucretia’s quiet snort at the word intuition had fallen into deaf ears, and Orion gratefully followed her example. He caught her eye again; she gave a glare, and he gave a smile, quick and sharp. The corner of her lip twitched upward ever so slightly. She sighed, and rubbed her stomach.
"Is the future heir showing his fierce spirit already?" Lucretia inquired.
"It never stops." Walburga rolled her eyes.
Orion Black would never have gushed like a common Mudblood, rushed forward to feel his child’s small limbs flutter under his palm, acted anything but dignified. Those were effusions one such man could not afford. Yet he offered his wife his arm to lean on as the whole party began to move out of the cemetery, and felt his warm weight so very close to his frame, the round protrusion that would bear their union’s fruit; he glanced over straight, elegant silhouettes, from ladies’ fine hats to men’s commanding profiles, and caught the bobbing head of one stray niece. Bellatrix twirled, small oddity, Andromeda snorted and tiny Narcissa muffled a giggle while Druella’s face expressed something that went beyond exasperation and dismay. Walburga huffed; he smirked.
Theirs might be worse. It was a notion he guiltily treasured, as well as dreaded. Their Black baby, their very own creation.
Old men died, and new heirs grew. His blood tingled with the heat, restless. Discreetly, he found Walburga’s hand at his elbow, and she surrended it to the brief pressure of his fingers.
He was a Black. He was a man. A father, soon. His head whirled.
It was a good day, of passing and renewal.
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/characters: The Noble and Most Ancient Family of Black. ;)
Genre: Family/Humour (ish)
Rating: K+
Word count: c. 1900 words.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: The Black family attends a funeral.
Author's note: This fic is my entry for a challenge on The Dark Lordʼs Most Faithful Forum on Fanfiction.net, with the theme "Funerals."
The story strictly follows the Black Family Tree and centered on the generation before Sirius Black's (overlooking the gross math error that makes Pollux Black a dad at the ripe age of 13 =P), so here is a copy in case you get confused with the many unfamiliar names and connections. (I did my best to make everything as straightforward and clear as it could get, but yeah, lots of fancy names XD)
The day was stifling hot, the sun beating down on them from its hiding place beyond the thick clouds of an overcast sky.
"There will be storms tonight," murmured Alphard Black, clearing his throat.
Walburga scarcely suppressed a snort. "If you have nothing more insightful or interesting to say, brother, do be quiet."
Her sibling made a non-committal noise in response. "Dear me, sister mine, be more careful. You just all but admitted you would be all too willing to listen to my nonsense, should it be entertaining enough. The setting is hardly appropriate."
"You are correct. I am bored stiff. In every sense of the term."
The coffin came hovering in. The chairs were dreadful, her back was killing her, and the baby kicked hard. Dear Salazar, kill me now, she thought.
On Alphardʼs other side, Cygnus Black threw the two of them a warning glance before he resumed staring straight ahead. It was surely quite ironical, he mused with a suppressed sigh, that his siblings should prove less well-mannered than the four-year-old that was his other immediate neighbour. But for all of her youth, little Narcissaʼs sense of duty and propriety was keen, and a solemn stare from her father had been sufficient to turn her into a right little doll; at first one might have wondered if she even allowed herself to breathe. Small and fair, she was like an embodiment of innocence and good behaviour.
The same could not be said of her sisters, however. Heat and boredom made Bellatrix and Andromeda mutter and fidget restlessly, never mind their motherʼs glares and whispered rebukes. Actually, even the picture-perfect youngest was occasionally stealing glances at her siblings, Cygnus realized; the negative influence could not be helped. Why, oh why was just one child not considered quite enough to uphold the family name, he despaired.
Druella Black would certainly not have disagreed; she had the most frightful headache, her hat was ridiculously heavy—she would have to sneak away as soon as possible for a quick feather-light charm—and she really could have murdered her two eldests on the spot, all proprieties be damned. Bellatrix, she had always known, had no patience whatsoever, and whilst Andromeda was collected enough on her own, the sisters’ closeness made the oneʼs agitation automatically pass on to the other.
She was going to scream. Once the coffin had been brought floating in, she had assumed, like everyone, that the worst of the ordeal was over. But no, no—yet one more person was willing to step forth and wax lyrical about the deceased. After his sister, the unbearable Belvina Burke, and his firstborn child Callidora Longbottom nee Black, it was the younger daughter Charis Crouch who now held a long and vibrant speech, back straight, nose red and voice quivery. The womanʼs ugliness was complimented by neither black nor grief, and Druellaʼs irritation left no room for mercifulness. Dead father or no, it couldnʼt possibly be appropriate to ramble so. Then again, she would also have grieved had it been her own father in the grave, surely. But Arcturus II had only been her husband’s great-uncle, and it had to be admitted, she cared nothing for his passing.
Eventually, Charis Crouch was done speaking and trudged her way back to a seat, half-blinded by the tears she could not shed in excessive amounts and terribly wishing she could just blow her nose in peace. Her husband was suppressing yawns, and her near-adult son Bartemius stealing eager glances towards his grandfatherʼs homonyme, the much more influential, charismatic and overall interesting Arcturus Black III, currently patriarch of the Black family. It was not fair. The youngest of the children always suffered such casual slights; as it had been for Arcturus Black the Second, cursed with two brothers and a sister (the two former having thankfully preceded him into the grave), so it was for Charis. The Crouches were a fine family to marry into, for sure… yet the Longbottoms were better, slightly but enough. Even Cedrella running off with her pitiful Weasley scum, flame-haired and pea-brained, had drawn such passionate attention, whereas all Charis got was boredom. Even now, Walburga Black looked like she wished she could deliver early, if that was what it took to get away. Would that not be just her luck… Another dirty little firstborn, stealing her fatherʼs very last hour in the light. The irony of this could have made her weep.
The main speeches having now taken place, the assembly all rose as one before the coffin, now resting on an altar, erupted into a great gush of silvery flames. The fire rose mighty and gleaming, sending flickers of light across the collected, watchful faces, and the nearest relatives stepped forth to behold the spectacle and pay their last respects with the appropriate level of emotion. Meanwhile, the rest of the assembly hovered, the youngest were quietly commanded to behave for a little bit longer, and muttered courtesies began to evolve into small talk. Arcturus Black III successfully avoided the eagerly deferential greetings from young Bartemius Crouch, and endeavoured to look as solemn, courteous yet imposing as a patriarch of the house of Black always ought to be. This he had thankfully never found too difficult. The family around him was numerous, forming a group that was harmonious as well as dignified: siblings and cousins, his own two children as well as the other branches of the family, and quiet outsiders, standing by their spouses or parents while quite aware that they did not have the honour of bearing the name of Black—Crouches, Longbottoms, Charlus Potter with the heavily pregnant Dorea, his own son-in-law Ignatius Prewett. Thank Merlin, Cedrella had known better than to show her face, let alone bring her Weasley husband and the resulting offspring. As long as the little ones kept observing their manners, the ceremony would turn out to be quite perfect. His gaze flickered over the three small heads, one fair, one brown, one dark. A pity there was yet no male heir to be flaunted. But soon his very own grandchild would come into the world; surely his vanity could bear the wait. It would be a son, he told himself, and meant for great things, without a doubt. Yes, the world would talk of the youngest Black, born of the eldest line, to the great pride of the family patriarch himself.
After a murmured word to her always impassive father, Lucretia Prewett nee Black slunk her way amongst the assembly to her brother and the possibility of a few instants of a company that would not be too terribly tedious. "I hope to Salazar that Belvina will not think it opportune to throw another little speech," she told Orion, leaning to kiss her sister-in-law’s cheek. "I might find myself tempted to murder her. Perhaps being a Burke for that long has made her forget all about proprieties? She must have learned a shopkeeper’s ways, as her husband holds no higher wish than to take over old Caractacus’ shady business. Really, I do know the dear departed was her brother, but I would not waste everybody’s time with tearful ramblings if you came to pass, I can promise you. Walburga, dear, are you due soon? You look it. No worries though, pregnancy doesn’t befit you half so badly as it does dear Dorea. Somebody thought it a good idea to have us seated side by side and really, I thought she might explode."
"Lucretia," Orion replied. "I do wish you knew how to keep your mouth shut."
"She never shall. You ought to know that already," Walburga commented, forcing tight lips into a smile. "You look well, Lucretia, dear. Perhaps you ought to try pregnancy on for size. I’m sure your husband cannot wait."
The woman had a short, dry laugh. "Thank you for your concern! I think I will, but you know, I have enjoyed my freedom, seen the world, touched a bit of politics. It is not the same with a child or two, one cannot leave their upbringing to the house-elves, you know? Just imagine what inadequate heirs such neglect could cause. No, education takes patience, for sure, and I prefer biding my time. I thought you would understand, surely you waited long enough yourself."
"Quite right, quite right," Orion swiftly cut in before his spouse could get a chance to respond. "That is probably a good move, Lucretia. Keep waiting as long as you must, and perhaps time will make you more, ah… ripe for motherhood. Whatever you wish. In the meantime, you may get a first, small experience from your future nephew or niece—"
Walburga met his eye, looking fit to spit out flames, and he cleared his throat and fumbled to backtrack. "—once in a while. Or any rate, witnessing the happy event might make you more tempted. Who knows."
"I am not surprised you have such a natural skill with politics, Orion," Lucretia chimed. "You have always been ever so smooth."
"My husband is full of wisdom," Walburga commented in a clipped tone. "I can only hope that my future son will have inherited his insight, and my spirit."
Son. The word alone caught Orion’s attention, enough to dismiss the following jab. It spread a queer warmth throughout his chest, and simultaneously made his ribcage seem to clench. "Now, my dear," he chided, "you know what the healers said, that curse they use offers no guaranteed results…"
"…and one might wonder why. Surely the house of Black is influential enough to get a healer that knows their business," Lucretia added. "How difficult can it be to tell the gender of an unborn heir, after all?"
"…and as there have been known occurrences of mistakes in the past, we may but hope, until the child is born," he finished as though his sister had not spoken.
Walburga gave him her haughtiest frown. "I am well aware, husband," she said. "My maternal intuition tells me that it is a son, yet I will surely not shout it out for the whole of society to hear, until we know for certain. You need not worry about that."
She pretended that Lucretia’s quiet snort at the word intuition had fallen into deaf ears, and Orion gratefully followed her example. He caught her eye again; she gave a glare, and he gave a smile, quick and sharp. The corner of her lip twitched upward ever so slightly. She sighed, and rubbed her stomach.
"Is the future heir showing his fierce spirit already?" Lucretia inquired.
"It never stops." Walburga rolled her eyes.
Orion Black would never have gushed like a common Mudblood, rushed forward to feel his child’s small limbs flutter under his palm, acted anything but dignified. Those were effusions one such man could not afford. Yet he offered his wife his arm to lean on as the whole party began to move out of the cemetery, and felt his warm weight so very close to his frame, the round protrusion that would bear their union’s fruit; he glanced over straight, elegant silhouettes, from ladies’ fine hats to men’s commanding profiles, and caught the bobbing head of one stray niece. Bellatrix twirled, small oddity, Andromeda snorted and tiny Narcissa muffled a giggle while Druella’s face expressed something that went beyond exasperation and dismay. Walburga huffed; he smirked.
Theirs might be worse. It was a notion he guiltily treasured, as well as dreaded. Their Black baby, their very own creation.
Old men died, and new heirs grew. His blood tingled with the heat, restless. Discreetly, he found Walburga’s hand at his elbow, and she surrended it to the brief pressure of his fingers.
He was a Black. He was a man. A father, soon. His head whirled.
It was a good day, of passing and renewal.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-09-15 11:15 am (UTC)I really admire the research effort, I must say.
Also : "But soon his very own grandchild would come into the world; surely his vanity could bear the wait. It would be a son, he told himself, and meant for great things, without a doubt. Yes, the world would talk of the youngest Black, born of the eldest line, to the great pride of the family patriarch himself."
HAHA. HAHAHAHAHA. HA. Yeah. I'm sure.
no subject
Date: 2014-09-15 03:52 pm (UTC)Thanks! Tbh, there wasn't that much of a research effort—I've been a Bellatrix nutter for all of my teen years, so I'm highly familiar with the Black family tree at least on the generation above, I just had to keep the tree close as I was writing, check the dates and names and pick the characters I wanted to feature most prominently and bingo. The main thing was keeping the transitions relatively smooth and trying to make the relations clear most of all, not like "they're all related, fuck if I know how" XD
I had my wicked fun with the irony about how Sirius would turn out, definitely :D
Thanks again for the lovely feedback! ^_^
no subject
Date: 2014-09-15 07:15 pm (UTC)And I know you're gonna be spammed by messages because I edited that like crazy, I feel no shame.
no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 06:15 am (UTC)I mean they have no soul but if anything that makes them resistant to dementor's kiss *runs away*
Hahaha, this is so true, I love you ♥ Maybe the ginger thing played but that sounds like it could be a Muggle-ish prejudice? ;) I always thought it was because of different choices in politics, not being so much about the importance of old families, etc, and that they were considered as not as high-class as the others first, not really a good crowd to hang about, then as downright blood traitors. Indeed Draco taunts Ron about Arthur's love for Muggles but it's just an excuse to provoke him, the rejection is about the whole family, not one man's eccentricities. I also think being poor was a consequence. The Gaunts had become horribly poor, and I guess they can't be taken as an example because nobody even seemed to know some small branch of the family was left, but they were still so full of their own importance—maybe deceiving themselves, though. XD
I looked up quickly a reason for that dislike and found this on the HP wiki:
"They were included in the Sacred Twenty-Eight list [list of pureblooded family aka lol "Sacred", guess there were more megalomaniacs out there than the Blacks], published in the Pure-Blood Directory by the 1930s. However, they deplored their inclusion in the list, because they said the had ancestral ties to many interesting Muggles. Their protests earned these families the opprobrium of advocates of the pure-blood doctrine, and the epithet 'blood traitor'.[4]"
1930's—Cedrella Black-Weasley's teenage years, so it must have been very fresh when she ran off with a Weasley man. Possible explanation there :)
CEDRELLA WAS ARTHUR'S MUM ACCORDING TO THE WIKI!!! *falls off my chair* GOD I would have implied this if I'd known! So much for my haughty-ish views that Black blood shows even in non-bigoted families, the Black temper and all that XD (And you're right, he has two brothers.)
Haha, no shame indeed :D
no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 10:40 am (UTC)What a rebel this Cedrella, haha ! And JK failed at genetics a little bit, I mean, I know Narcissa was blonde, but most of the Black family has dark hair, so it doesn't make much sense that Arthur AND all of his (quite numerous) progeny would be flaming redheads. But I guess it looks cool and was reminiscent of how Irish people were discriminated against in England.
For the teen dad, heh, that's possible, biologically, but since it didn't seem to be the custom to marry this early it probably would have been a scandal.
The Black temper ? Tell me more ? Because that would mean that Sirius and Tonks have it too.
PS : props to Isla Black who managed to marry a muggle probably around the 1860-70's while being from this kind of family xDD I don't even know how she MET one.
no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 04:18 pm (UTC)And yes, that's just the way they are. Bunch of bigoted bitches, I love them ;)
Yep, indeed—I'm not an expert on genetics, but I don't think red hair is a dominant gene? Idk, maybe it works in a completely different way from eye colours. So yeah. XD At least we know that Weasleys didn't choose their women because of the hair XD Unless Cedrella was a Black redhead and Septimus was like "WANT". Mind you, the Malfoys could be accused of the same.
Yup—of course it's possible, but in this era and a Black? No way… (I think the mistake was originally with Cygnus and Bellatrix and she moved it one generation back so it'd look less conspicuous, lol.)
Yes, Tonks doesn't fit too well either. Sirius is certainly impetuous and arrogant; he's on the right side, but you can tell he's not someone who has had people say no to him often. So I think I'll stick with the genetics + education headcanon: people who are born and bred Blacks might have the right ideas, but they'll keep their hint of Black haughtiness (Sirius and, in my headcanon, Andromeda—I get annoyed when she's portrayed as the sweet innocent lamb stuck between two bitchy sisters), but when such people break away from their families and start/join families of their own to have children who are brought up in equality values and humility, the influence fades (Tonks and Arthur). "Temper" was the wrong word, I meant a personality mix made of strong character, pride and a hint of arrogance, maybe a temper indeed but one that can be more or less controlled (Sirius, Bellatrix and Walburga seem impulsive but Narcissa keeps up a façade better, plus we saw Walburga as a demented portrait, that's hardly the most solid view of her overall character). I knew it wasn't very precise/accurate a term but I was in a hurry and couldn't be arsed to find the right one ;)
Wow, good point about Isla Black. Go her :D
no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 05:49 pm (UTC)*rolls on the floor laughing*
It always bothered me that in the movies Narcissa wasn't totally blonde, like, it's stated several times how blonde she is (I don't have it in English but Bellatrix is described as "aussi brune que sa sœur était blonde", which is supposed to mean "very"... (this quotation has me wondering why we insist on writing to each other in English, but whatever))
Yeah no hair colors don't EXACTLY work like eye colors (and even that isn't as simple as it's taught in high school), but red hair is definitely recessive, that's why gingers are becoming rarer and rarer.
Yeah the person who made the tree probably was like "yeah nobody's gonna notice it, it won't fit if I don't..." xD
About the temper, I can see it, then again "strong character, pride and a hint of arrogance" is something that doesn't seem all that rare in the people we see in HP, even good ones like James. I do think education (and environment in general) plays a bigger role though. As you said Sirius was this way because he wasn't used to people saying no to him. When you're told all your life that you're worth more than everybody else, you tend to believe it (see Draco), so of course families who take great pride in their status will get arrogant children.
Not fully related but: can I find your other HP fics somewhere ? And do you write mostly about asshole-y pure-blood families ? (I don't mind them, I actually really like this kind of fic, but I know my favorite characters have always been the Weasley twins (yes my heart is still broken to this day), and in general, for a long story with actual stakes I tend to find less interest in characters I know less, which is why I don't read Marauders fics for example)
no subject
Date: 2014-09-21 07:34 pm (UTC)Oh god, I just talk in English as default, we can switch to French if you prefer though XD Sometimes I even think I feel more comfortable in English? Freer. Online is like an alternate personality to me. Just two minutes ago I was typing an email in French to a friend from here, and inserting little words in English like *superhugs* or "stop and stare moments" and lol'ing at myself. Yeahhhh XD
Oh, JKR herself made the tree XD But she plainly admitted she wasn't a math kind of person…
Quite true—and you will notice that James is also a young pureblood from an old family. So one might assume that some of the oldest families (and less liberal like the Weasleys are) can be tolerant but still full of their own importance. Ernie Macmillan is open-minded, but still makes a point about his parentage and is obviously on the pompous side; Neville is a bad example because of natural insecurity and his grandmother's stifling style, but she obviously expects him to be the best, and likely did his father before him; Crouch Sr. is arrogant too… Yeahhh, it's definitely featured a lot amongst purebloods. And it does definitely come from education. Even without being bigoted about their purity, those families, those names come with a history and they know it. They were taught about their ancestors, possibly the latters' importance in the wizarding world. They were told to do as well as their parents and forebearers. It sticks, more or less consciously. And obviously, the families who were downright arrogant about it worked as merry little brat factories ;) (And we notice that both Draco and James, who were brought up in families with different political views… were spoiled and little bullies in their teen years. The difference is James improved while maturing.)
Hehe, you answered that question already, the beauty of long overdue replies =P Thanks for your lovely review on "Ideal culprits" by the way! I really had fun writing that one, hehe ;) (And I completely understand about the characters, I'll be more picky when reading long stories or digging into a person's past works, too.)
♥
no subject
Date: 2014-09-21 08:38 pm (UTC)Yeah no it's weird for me too to write in French here, but just, sometimes I'm like "We're both native French speakers, and we write to each other in English. Because we can...[insert something about American imperialism]"
Oh ok, well, even her isn't failproof xD (and there's a gap between not being a maths person and failing at substractions but I won't press further xD)
Yeah, and even those who weren't naturally very self-confident either gained confidence because of their family's status or conceiled it because "I'm expected to become a great name of the wizarding world better not fuck this up", except for those like Neville, because there's always gonna be exceptions. I wonder what's the Lovegood family's status, because they sure are very VERY familiar with magical things, legends and tales, so that would suggest being a pretty old family, but they definitely don't fit the pureblood description xD I'm laughing pretty hard at the "merry little brat factories". (Yeah, and that's one thing I like, it's that James wasn't a saint, that would have been so cliché... As for Draco, you could say he gets a bit better, I mean, by the end he seems to understand that his family's values don't justify a war/genocide, you could consider that a start? hm. (And JKR said he got better later on and was in good terms with Harry, I don't know to what extent that was to please the Drarry fans but well...))
No problem, for a moment I hoped you didn't find rude me asking if you wrote the kind of fic I prefer, so I'm happy we feel the same about that, haha. Yeah I loved Ideal culprits, I was quite sad that you weren't a Weasley person (enough to have Molly in your "despised characters" =O (I don't care that much for her, but idk, she's nice, if a bit too motherly at times xD (on that drabble I have to say I probably didn't pay enough attention while reading because I was sure the type of spell that killed Bellatrix wasn't precised and always supposed it was a killing curse)))<-[so many brackets omg], you DO write them well!
Don't worry for the overdue reply, I tend to reply right away because I don't know what to do with myself half of the time, and I don't have that many messages to begin with (and if I don't I forget)
no subject
Date: 2014-09-29 08:29 pm (UTC)Yeah, I understand that ;) It strikes me all the more when I do it in personal messages too XD And I feel less socially awkward in English, which says something about online alternate selves.
Oh ok, well, even her isn't failproof xD
Indeed! No one is ;)
(and there's a gap between not being a maths person and failing at substractions but I won't press further xD)
ROFL. Quite right ;)
Yep, completely agreeing about their keeping up a façade of confidence no matter what. That's a very interesting question about the Lovegoods! I have no idea :) Also agreeing about James and Draco. Draco was a spoiled little bully, but no murderer/monster. It's good the things he went through made him grow up, and pretty realistic too, because boy, did the whole family have a shitty two years. Enough terror and humiliation to humble anyone and make them more humane, especially a sixteen-year-old who thought he was all dark and epic but was really just nasty and frustrated. It's a start indeed ;)
Nah, it wasn't rude at all :) I didn't mind Molly either up until she killed Bella, haha. Most of all because it makes little canon sense given that we'd never seen her duel before, but The Power of Motherly Love wins over all, we got the message already ;) Still, can't blame the character for JKR's decisions, but it launched a lot of discussions over Molly's various flaws on the Bellatrix forum I was on, lol. Frustration has to get relieved some way or another XD
The spell that killed Bella wasn't specified indeed, but JKR pretty much said later it had been an "extraordinarily strong Stunning Curse" or something like that. Just… the woman has blood on her hands already, she killed to protect her daughter, have her use a Killing Curse and just be honest about it XD
ALL THE BRACKETS! And thanks :D
I get that ;) I wouldn't really know what to do with myself either so I tend to fill all the empty time and thus get really overwhelmed, overachieving natures ftw ;)
no subject
Date: 2014-09-29 10:06 pm (UTC)As for credibility it does seem a bit far fetched BUT somehow I really can see Bella being very arrogant and self confident and not thinking Molly can do much in a duel, not to mention being "inebriated" (grisée ? What is English) because she's sure the Dark Lord is winning, and making a mistake, while Molly is pretty much in berserk mode, what with having a dead son, one certainly scarred for life (JK how much would it have hurt you to just acknowledge George for more than two fucking descriptive sentences after you killed his twin for no plot-driven reason (and of course in life and in a war everything doesn't have a reason but ugh if you're gonna touch them do it well and have the courage to actually go for it)), another one who's been pretty fucked up by the research of the horcruxes, and one who was attacked by a werewolf and disfigured (even if the film wouldn't give him more than a nice clean scar that only makes him look badass).
So yeah, I can see it, but not the nature of the curse.
And sorry for the twins rant in the brackets, I'll just never be over it. (And neither will George *dies in a corner*)
no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 04:02 pm (UTC)Edit: damn, you write in German, too? And in Italian?
Edit 2: and you wrote about Cassie from Skins can I marry you?
Edit 3: you have some... quite interesting pairings, well... xD
and also: "This is the disgusting, OOC, nauseating, sick, lovey-dovey tale of Voldemort, Bellatrix and their darling daughter Mary-Sue. Co-written with APieceOfGumIsNotStuckInMyHair, rated M because it's guaranteed to be the worst fic you'll ever read. You're warned" I'm laughing so hard.
Last edit, sorry for the spam: we definitely don't have the same favorite characters (well I do like Bellatrix and the Death Eaters, but they're not my main focus), but I'll probably read a couple of these, you're a VERY prolific writer, wow.
(just read "Of change, losses and Christmas sweaters" and whined miserably at George's part)
no subject
Date: 2014-09-19 06:22 pm (UTC)Edit 1: not exactly ;) I wrote a little thing in Italian once, and the German fic was not originally in German: I wanted practise, so I started self-translating one of my English fics with a German friend as my beta, but then I lacked time and practically abandoned =P
Edit 2: ♥ Yes, let's run away and elope :D
Edit 3: hahaha! ♥ Yeah. I did that "most awful pairings" challenge once, plus dares from friends… there's the dear APieceOfGumIsNotStuckInMyHair, the Merope/Nagini piece I also owe to her XD
Last edit: okay, thanks! :) Haha, I started in 2009 and there are many tiny drabbles in there…
♥
no subject
Date: 2014-09-29 11:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-30 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 01:40 am (UTC)*HUGS*
no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 06:29 am (UTC)♥♥♥