Post by Admin on Aug 10, 2015 16:55:29 GMT
Mrs. Violet Fowler (formerly Miss Violet Grey of the Aberdeen Grey's, though she had not been called that in many years) rang the bell for house-elf to attend her. The guests would be arriving soon, and, to her great annoyance, the tea table had not yet been laid. What Magda would say if the tables weren't laid...it was not to be thought of.
The diminutive creature bent its head around the doorway nervously, hands already shaking on her tray in anticipation of punishment. She knew she should have gotten the tables set nearly 5 minutes ago, but had been held up by a bit of broken flatware in the kitchens. She knew how much Mistress Violet disliked cracks in the repaired work. It showed that the repairs had had to be done at all.
The old woman waited, eyebrows lifting perhaps a millimeter at the house-elf's behavior.
"Iris, the plates?" Her voice was calm, but the tone made it very clear that was not a question, but rather an order that if not followed straight away would lead to a most painful retribution. Last time she'd been late the elf had been ordered to put her hands on the stove.
The little thing nodded quickly, moving to set the cakes and treats in their proper places. Violet took her seat in the wing chair by the fire place. It was cold, and she was old. The light glinted off the ruby ring on her finger, the jewel around her neck. Simple pieces, not meant to be ostentatious; but obvious ones, rich ones, expensive ones. Nothing less for the Fowler Matriarch.
Another house-elf entered the room and announced the arrival of her guests. Their security had been cleared with the gate before hand. The aurors would have been thorough, she assumed. It was ridiculous, that so much security had to be set up so far in advance of the children's coming, but they had agreed. And of course Magda had to bring the car, which would take more time to search. She repressed a sigh. Ah well, the safety of Miss Harrison was considered of the highest priority, even if it was in place a week before she was due to arrive.
Violet rose from her seat as the door opened again, her society smile ready on her face.
"Magda, dear, how are you?"*
Magda Trevelyan was a small woman physically, slight of build even in her youth and now in her eightieth year she was fine boned and thin. But she had always made up for her small stature with a force of will that swept all before her. Since the death of her husband Hugo four years previously (and truth be told, for many years before that) she had ruled the Trevelyan family like a medieval tyrant. She walked into Violet's chamber and looked around for a second before smiling thinly.
"Ah, Violet. Good to see you again my dear. Girls, make your curtseys."
She was followed into the room by two teenage girls, one tall and slim with dark hair worn in a coiled braid, the other shorter and plumper with a nervous expression and blonde hair. Both were wearing the uniform of the Witches League, white blouses and dark skirts, with coloured neckerchiefs. At the old woman's words both girls curtseyed in unison toward Violet.
"Margaret Coldwater," said Magda indicating the first, "Marianne Finchley. Great granddaughters, heaven help us. How are you?"*
Violet gave the young girls a nod of her head and looked them over. Promising, perhaps an arrangement...She put the thought at the back of her mind. There were other choices to consider, and time was not pressing.
"I am well, thank you. I hope the trip was not too much trouble for you, we've had to tighten our security measures a bit. Important guests coming." She gestured for the seats, "please do sit down."*
Magda took a seat primly opposite Violet and then nodded sternly at each girl in turn who dashed to their own seats and sat quietly, ankles crossed.
"Important guests you say? How splendid. Well the measures are quite appropriate then I suppose, though I did find those Aurors to be as tiresome as their kind always are."
She folded her hands on her lap and pursed her lips.
"Officious busybodies, every one of them. And do you know that the Aurors employ mudbloods these days? Mudbloods. Spying on decent wizards and witches and ordering them around. I kept a very close eye on them you can count on it, spellscanning my poor girls."
She glanced at her poor girls and snapped "Marianne, sit up straight girl! Your spine is not made of rubber. You'll never find a husband with posture like an orangutan."*
Violet shook her head sadly at the state of the government these days, "of course, Bartimeaus ran his own checks on the men at the gate, decent families for the most part. It will have to do."
Ignoring Magda's comment towards the unfortunate Marianne, Violet waved a hand towards Iris, who was kneeling in a corner waiting for orders. At the signal the elf stood and began serving.
"Yes, my grandson has invited some of his school friends to spend the holidays. One of them is the reason for all the inconvenience. If she had not done the family such a great service, I should wonder at its necessity. However," Violet smiled, "I am assured it will be well worth the trouble."*
Madga watched the house elf like a hawk would watch a mouse, her eyes missing nothing as the poor creature performed its duties.
"Great service you say? How intriguing. Who is the girl?"
She found it important to keep abreast of the young men and women of the pureblood lines, and who was doing what to whom. It was a matter of great importance to her, and she approached it with a ferocious dedication and a strategic approach that made the Game of Thrones look like a wet afternoon playing snakes and ladders against a simpleton with a bad head cold and attention deficit disorder.*
"A Miss Hayley Harrison. Not sure of her mother's maiden name." Violet nodded again at the house-elf, who began offering around cups.
"A fine witch, by my daughter's account. Very talented young woman. Very brave, too. So I'm told." Violet's eyes sparkled.
The matter had been hushed up rather well two years ago, gossip not reaching far beyond the grounds of the school. She enjoyed dangling the information over her friend's head. A young pure-blooded witch with considerable talent, who had friends within the Fowler family; that was powerful information.
"You'll meet her, I'm sure. You are attending the Christmas Ball? And your great granddaughters, of course." Her gaze turned on them a moment. Yes, they were good options if the others fell through.*
"I'll be glad to attend," said Magda, "and the girls also."
She was still glaring at Marianne who was now sitting so straight that she was going red in the face.
"Hugo and Hugo too?"
She was referring to her two great grandsons. Hugo Coldwater (Margaret's brother) and Hugo Finchley (Marianne's twin). The elder was certainly in her sights at the moment for finding a future bride, and it did not hurt for the younger to be shown around either.*
"But of course, we'd be delighted to have them. How old are they now? Are they as handsome as the man they were named for?"
Violet had never liked Magda's husband. He had been weak, but it would not do to think or say such unkind thoughts of the deceased.
*
Magda snorted in derisive amusement.
"My Hugo was handsome was he? You always did have an odd taste in men, Violet. He was a good man in many ways, and a fine wizard, but handsome? Tach."
The last was a habitual exclamation of disapproval that had lingered since Madga's childhood in the highlands of Scotland.
"And as for the young Hugos, well they're handsome enough I suppose. Theresa's boy (this was the younger Hugo Finchley) has an angel's face when he's not up to mischief. Emily's Hugo is a ruffian, truth be told. Don't pout Margaret! He's your brother so you know better than anyone! He lives for Quidditch and duelling, and will no doubt become a drunkard and a lecher like his father."
Magda did not approve of Laurence Coldwater, Hugo's father, and saw no reason to disguise that.
"But his bloodline is fine and long, and he'll make a fine husband for all that." she finished.*
"He was not so unattractive." Violet said judiciously. "Shame about the oldest, but it shouldn't be too much of a problem. There are not so many options at to put him at a disadvantage. He should take care though."
"The youngest too, though if his face is as angelic as you say, he should have not problem in securing the line." Her granddaughter was not yet old enough for them to be seriously considering anyone, but it didn't hurt to keep an eye on the line.*
"Take care indeed," said Magda disapprovingly, though her disapproval was aimed at the rogue Hugo. "Aye, well, all the world will no doubt fall at his feet. To be a ruffian and a bully is a virtue in the eyes of some, though a little discretion and discernment will not go amiss."
She glanced from the two great granddaughters to Violet.
"It's not so easy for us however," she said firmly. "Our responsibility is to guide our menfolk to greatness, despite their animal instincts. Why there's not a one of them would have the wits to find his rear end with both hands and a map if it were not for a sensible female to lead him. The girls wonder why I'm so hard on them Violet, can you believe that? Hard on them indeed! Why if they'd had to live under the authority we took for granted in our young day their hair would turn white!"
She sipped her tea.
"White I say. Hayley Harrison you say. Not familiar with the name at all. Is she respectable?"
Meaning: Marriageable.*
"So I am led to believe. Dorothea says she is quite the witch. Talented, respectful. The name is unknown, but the lineage must be good, for her to have such skill."
Violet repressed a frown, she was more subtle in her leading, more refined than her friend. It was true though, men needed a firm hand. "My Robert is the picture of discernment, I am glad to say. His parents have done a fine job with him. A strict upbringing, an unwavering hold to our traditions, that is the way to do it."
*
Magda approved.
“It is the only way,” she said. “Pay attention girls. Tradition, tradition, tradition. That is what gives us our foundation of strength.”
The girls nodded obediently.
“Avalon Academy does its best for them,” she confided to Violet, “and Madam Vervain is very committed to the ideal of maintaining standards”
(translation: Madam Vervain is a bigoted old fanatic with great skill in indoctrinating impressionable youngsters with her worldview by, as is common to schools with an agenda all over the world, forcing their words into a child’s ears for so long that they eventually start coming out of the child’s mouth)
“But ultimately a school can only stand in loco parentis and it is still a parent’s responsibility. It falls to us in the families to keep the light burning in the darkness.”*
"All the Fowlers have attended Hogwarts; we felt it best that the tradition continue. It was a difficult decision to make, with the halls of Hogwarts being so polluted as they are now."
It had been. Robert was an impressionable lad, and she did not relish the idea of him consorting with the wrong sort of people. Muggles and their offspring had no place in a school of magic. But in the end, Hogwarts was the choice they had made.
"I think it worked out well so far. The reports have been good, and his friends all seem to be of the good sort."*
The diminutive creature bent its head around the doorway nervously, hands already shaking on her tray in anticipation of punishment. She knew she should have gotten the tables set nearly 5 minutes ago, but had been held up by a bit of broken flatware in the kitchens. She knew how much Mistress Violet disliked cracks in the repaired work. It showed that the repairs had had to be done at all.
The old woman waited, eyebrows lifting perhaps a millimeter at the house-elf's behavior.
"Iris, the plates?" Her voice was calm, but the tone made it very clear that was not a question, but rather an order that if not followed straight away would lead to a most painful retribution. Last time she'd been late the elf had been ordered to put her hands on the stove.
The little thing nodded quickly, moving to set the cakes and treats in their proper places. Violet took her seat in the wing chair by the fire place. It was cold, and she was old. The light glinted off the ruby ring on her finger, the jewel around her neck. Simple pieces, not meant to be ostentatious; but obvious ones, rich ones, expensive ones. Nothing less for the Fowler Matriarch.
Another house-elf entered the room and announced the arrival of her guests. Their security had been cleared with the gate before hand. The aurors would have been thorough, she assumed. It was ridiculous, that so much security had to be set up so far in advance of the children's coming, but they had agreed. And of course Magda had to bring the car, which would take more time to search. She repressed a sigh. Ah well, the safety of Miss Harrison was considered of the highest priority, even if it was in place a week before she was due to arrive.
Violet rose from her seat as the door opened again, her society smile ready on her face.
"Magda, dear, how are you?"*
Magda Trevelyan was a small woman physically, slight of build even in her youth and now in her eightieth year she was fine boned and thin. But she had always made up for her small stature with a force of will that swept all before her. Since the death of her husband Hugo four years previously (and truth be told, for many years before that) she had ruled the Trevelyan family like a medieval tyrant. She walked into Violet's chamber and looked around for a second before smiling thinly.
"Ah, Violet. Good to see you again my dear. Girls, make your curtseys."
She was followed into the room by two teenage girls, one tall and slim with dark hair worn in a coiled braid, the other shorter and plumper with a nervous expression and blonde hair. Both were wearing the uniform of the Witches League, white blouses and dark skirts, with coloured neckerchiefs. At the old woman's words both girls curtseyed in unison toward Violet.
"Margaret Coldwater," said Magda indicating the first, "Marianne Finchley. Great granddaughters, heaven help us. How are you?"*
Violet gave the young girls a nod of her head and looked them over. Promising, perhaps an arrangement...She put the thought at the back of her mind. There were other choices to consider, and time was not pressing.
"I am well, thank you. I hope the trip was not too much trouble for you, we've had to tighten our security measures a bit. Important guests coming." She gestured for the seats, "please do sit down."*
Magda took a seat primly opposite Violet and then nodded sternly at each girl in turn who dashed to their own seats and sat quietly, ankles crossed.
"Important guests you say? How splendid. Well the measures are quite appropriate then I suppose, though I did find those Aurors to be as tiresome as their kind always are."
She folded her hands on her lap and pursed her lips.
"Officious busybodies, every one of them. And do you know that the Aurors employ mudbloods these days? Mudbloods. Spying on decent wizards and witches and ordering them around. I kept a very close eye on them you can count on it, spellscanning my poor girls."
She glanced at her poor girls and snapped "Marianne, sit up straight girl! Your spine is not made of rubber. You'll never find a husband with posture like an orangutan."*
Violet shook her head sadly at the state of the government these days, "of course, Bartimeaus ran his own checks on the men at the gate, decent families for the most part. It will have to do."
Ignoring Magda's comment towards the unfortunate Marianne, Violet waved a hand towards Iris, who was kneeling in a corner waiting for orders. At the signal the elf stood and began serving.
"Yes, my grandson has invited some of his school friends to spend the holidays. One of them is the reason for all the inconvenience. If she had not done the family such a great service, I should wonder at its necessity. However," Violet smiled, "I am assured it will be well worth the trouble."*
Madga watched the house elf like a hawk would watch a mouse, her eyes missing nothing as the poor creature performed its duties.
"Great service you say? How intriguing. Who is the girl?"
She found it important to keep abreast of the young men and women of the pureblood lines, and who was doing what to whom. It was a matter of great importance to her, and she approached it with a ferocious dedication and a strategic approach that made the Game of Thrones look like a wet afternoon playing snakes and ladders against a simpleton with a bad head cold and attention deficit disorder.*
"A Miss Hayley Harrison. Not sure of her mother's maiden name." Violet nodded again at the house-elf, who began offering around cups.
"A fine witch, by my daughter's account. Very talented young woman. Very brave, too. So I'm told." Violet's eyes sparkled.
The matter had been hushed up rather well two years ago, gossip not reaching far beyond the grounds of the school. She enjoyed dangling the information over her friend's head. A young pure-blooded witch with considerable talent, who had friends within the Fowler family; that was powerful information.
"You'll meet her, I'm sure. You are attending the Christmas Ball? And your great granddaughters, of course." Her gaze turned on them a moment. Yes, they were good options if the others fell through.*
"I'll be glad to attend," said Magda, "and the girls also."
She was still glaring at Marianne who was now sitting so straight that she was going red in the face.
"Hugo and Hugo too?"
She was referring to her two great grandsons. Hugo Coldwater (Margaret's brother) and Hugo Finchley (Marianne's twin). The elder was certainly in her sights at the moment for finding a future bride, and it did not hurt for the younger to be shown around either.*
"But of course, we'd be delighted to have them. How old are they now? Are they as handsome as the man they were named for?"
Violet had never liked Magda's husband. He had been weak, but it would not do to think or say such unkind thoughts of the deceased.
*
Magda snorted in derisive amusement.
"My Hugo was handsome was he? You always did have an odd taste in men, Violet. He was a good man in many ways, and a fine wizard, but handsome? Tach."
The last was a habitual exclamation of disapproval that had lingered since Madga's childhood in the highlands of Scotland.
"And as for the young Hugos, well they're handsome enough I suppose. Theresa's boy (this was the younger Hugo Finchley) has an angel's face when he's not up to mischief. Emily's Hugo is a ruffian, truth be told. Don't pout Margaret! He's your brother so you know better than anyone! He lives for Quidditch and duelling, and will no doubt become a drunkard and a lecher like his father."
Magda did not approve of Laurence Coldwater, Hugo's father, and saw no reason to disguise that.
"But his bloodline is fine and long, and he'll make a fine husband for all that." she finished.*
"He was not so unattractive." Violet said judiciously. "Shame about the oldest, but it shouldn't be too much of a problem. There are not so many options at to put him at a disadvantage. He should take care though."
"The youngest too, though if his face is as angelic as you say, he should have not problem in securing the line." Her granddaughter was not yet old enough for them to be seriously considering anyone, but it didn't hurt to keep an eye on the line.*
"Take care indeed," said Magda disapprovingly, though her disapproval was aimed at the rogue Hugo. "Aye, well, all the world will no doubt fall at his feet. To be a ruffian and a bully is a virtue in the eyes of some, though a little discretion and discernment will not go amiss."
She glanced from the two great granddaughters to Violet.
"It's not so easy for us however," she said firmly. "Our responsibility is to guide our menfolk to greatness, despite their animal instincts. Why there's not a one of them would have the wits to find his rear end with both hands and a map if it were not for a sensible female to lead him. The girls wonder why I'm so hard on them Violet, can you believe that? Hard on them indeed! Why if they'd had to live under the authority we took for granted in our young day their hair would turn white!"
She sipped her tea.
"White I say. Hayley Harrison you say. Not familiar with the name at all. Is she respectable?"
Meaning: Marriageable.*
"So I am led to believe. Dorothea says she is quite the witch. Talented, respectful. The name is unknown, but the lineage must be good, for her to have such skill."
Violet repressed a frown, she was more subtle in her leading, more refined than her friend. It was true though, men needed a firm hand. "My Robert is the picture of discernment, I am glad to say. His parents have done a fine job with him. A strict upbringing, an unwavering hold to our traditions, that is the way to do it."
*
Magda approved.
“It is the only way,” she said. “Pay attention girls. Tradition, tradition, tradition. That is what gives us our foundation of strength.”
The girls nodded obediently.
“Avalon Academy does its best for them,” she confided to Violet, “and Madam Vervain is very committed to the ideal of maintaining standards”
(translation: Madam Vervain is a bigoted old fanatic with great skill in indoctrinating impressionable youngsters with her worldview by, as is common to schools with an agenda all over the world, forcing their words into a child’s ears for so long that they eventually start coming out of the child’s mouth)
“But ultimately a school can only stand in loco parentis and it is still a parent’s responsibility. It falls to us in the families to keep the light burning in the darkness.”*
"All the Fowlers have attended Hogwarts; we felt it best that the tradition continue. It was a difficult decision to make, with the halls of Hogwarts being so polluted as they are now."
It had been. Robert was an impressionable lad, and she did not relish the idea of him consorting with the wrong sort of people. Muggles and their offspring had no place in a school of magic. But in the end, Hogwarts was the choice they had made.
"I think it worked out well so far. The reports have been good, and his friends all seem to be of the good sort."*