Hogwarts is in an uproar; a faint-inducing, near-dueling-in-the-corridors, almost-newspaper-worthy uproar. House lines for once have been blurred, as those in society unite in fury and outrage, and friendships between those of the gentry and those of the populace have become strained, some even fractured forever. And what is the source of this drama and scandal? A piece of jewelry.
A tennis bracelet, to be exact.
Why has an entire school sent into a tizzy over a piece of jewelry? The answer is simple, yet complicated at the same time. Witches and wizards, or the ones raised right, don't date. They court, because dates imply a flighty commitment, and it is a very serious choice to bond with someone. Bonding is eternal; nothing in this world or the next can break a bond once formed, except for the most grievous of sins. The rituals that go along with courtships, which include jewelry, are taken very seriously.
The only jewelry a witch wears, until she is courting, is a signet ring. Any other type of jewelry indicates that the witch in question is in an exclusive courtship, and in nearly every instance, an exclusive courtship leads to a bonding ceremony. The type of jewelry given to a witch by a wizard who wishes to enter an exclusive courtship, called a First Courtship Gift, is specific to a family (a tradition that varied outside Britain). Potters give hair vines, Longbottoms lockets, and so on and so forth. The Nott family gives tennis bracelets, which is the very source of the scandal turning Hogwarts on its head.
It isn't all that attractive. Its clearly man-made crystals are an odd rainbow color that look somewhat out of place on the wrist of a sixteen year old witch; color combinations of that nature are usually regulated to young children in the wizarding world, not a witch on the cusp of adulthood. They are a baguette cut, a trend that has never crossed into the wizarding world, and set in silver that has tarnished from repeated wear. Regardless of the style and state of the piece, the outrage from the gentry remains.
Hermione Granger is ranked as a Mudblood because she eschewed the offer of fostering from the Malfoy family before the start of her first year, calling the fostering system outdated and constrictive and magical society as a whole backwards, barbaric, and sexist. She is the source of the scandal and outrage, as she stepped out of the sixth year Gryffindor witches dorm wearing a tennis bracelet, the aforementioned courtship gift of the Ancient and Noble House of Nott. Lord Theodore Nott, the only scion of his house currently at Hogwarts, despises Hermione Granger, so it is quite the shock when word got out that The Mudblood (as Hermione was unfortunately known by) has been seen wearing a Nott family courtship gift.
Rumors and gossip fly, as they often does when the news is this scandalous, and the entire school knows all the relevant details by the time breakfast begins. Hermione has, albeit reluctantly, taken off the offending item at the demands of Lady Lavender Brown and Miss Faye Dunbar, but the damage has already been done. She isn't in the Great Hall at all; current rumor places her in the library, looking up Courtship traditions, with the help of Ginny Weasley.
"I wasn't aware you carried a torch for The Mudblood, Lord Nott." Heir Markus Flint sneers as he passes by the younger wizard in the Great Hall. Several sharp intakes of breath can be heard- though it had only reached Ravenclaw, rumor had it that Lord Nott has already cursed Heir Goyle quite savagely for making similar remarks. There are houses within the peerage that take matters of love, and slights against their honor, very seriously- the Ancient and Noble House of Nott is chief amongst them. Only Originals take romance and other matters of the heart more seriously than they.
Lord Theodore Nott stiffens so sharply you can almost hear his spine crack. "The day I carry a torch for that ugly know-it-all is the day Ragnarök begins, Heir Flint." he says coldly, drawing his wand. "A wizard of the Ancient and Noble House of Nott would never dream of stooping so low." The tip of his wand is glowing a nasty yellow, some sort of Dark curse moments away from being cast. Lord Nott is incensed that a rake like Heir Flint (a rather ugly one too) would dare say such things about him, much less have the audacity to say it to his face.
Lady Daphne Greengrass joins the small knot of scions at the end of the Slytherin table. "It would do you much good, Heir Flint," she says coolly, nodding once in acknowledgement to the others' bows, "if you didn't try to lecture your betters on matters of the heart. I just received a most interesting letter from a dear friend; must I bring it up?" By dear friend, Lady Greengrass most certainly meant a fellow Original, and probably a Percy. The families kept an open dialogue, so it was common for all Original scions to have a passing knowledge of the current disputes being settled.
Several of the witches around Lady Greengrass titter and whisper to one another as Heir Flint pales several shades - Lady Greengrass is known to be close with Lady Antiope Percy, one of the Percy sicons that works the closest with the centaurs to settle disputes. Rumor has it that there was a dispute fairly recently between a wizarding family and the Nonnus clan, and the dispute in question was one of an incredibly sensitive nature. If it is mentioned in the Great Hall (as Lady Greengrass was not above doing) it will send his family's reputation crashing down. The withdrawal of his cousin, Master Lemminkäinen Flint, from Hogwarts last week was scandal enough.
"Of-of course not, Lady Greengrass." The stocky wizard says shakily, obviously in fear of the smaller witch. His cousin will be disowned if that dispute becomes public knowledge, cast out of his family and ranked even lower than a Mudblood; Markus himself reprimanded most severely. The shame of a Flint scion being pulled from Hogwarts is much better than the shame of being caught in flagrante delicto with a centaur becoming public knowledge.
"Good," She says curtly, her dark eyes hard and cold, "because I'm sure the Gryffindors, brash as they are, have already educated the Mudblood on why proper witches don't wear jewelry and how grievous her actions were. If Heir Potter or Lord Shakespeare got involved we might even see an apology from her before the meal is over."
Lady Greengrass turns and leaves, choosing to sit with her younger sister Lady Astoria at the Ravenclaw table, and, following her exit, the rest of the scions disperse. Chatter fills the Great Hall as everyone eagerly discussed the latest, shockingly scandalous, piece of gossip. The teachers even get involved in the gossip; Professor Sinistra is seen talking quietly with Professor Organa (one of the co-heads of the language department), the Astronomy professor gesticulating near her wrist for a moment, and Professor McGonagall's calculating eyes fall on the Gryffindor table many a time.
All conversation came to a speeding halt when Hermione Granger enters the hall, her hair even more flyaway and frizzy than it usually is, with Ginny Weasley. Hermione looks positively spitting, nearly bristling with an indignant rage, while Ginny looks annoyed, but resigned. Even though the Weasleys were Blood Traitors, they have a passing knowledge of the rules of propriety and courtship rituals, even if they do not have any desire (or right) to follow them. The duo, aware of the eyes upon them, split at the doors, Hermione making her way to the Slytherin table alone (Ginny going to the end of the Gryffindor table) and coming to a stop in front of Lord Nott. Hermione clears her throat and Lord Nott straightens, but doesn't turn around- he is clearly going to pull this out for as long as he can get away with.
Hermione rolls her eyes and looks ready to turn away, but Ginny's intense glare from across the hall causes her to stop and take a deep, exasperated breath. "Lord Nott," Hermione says, and from her tone it is obvious she'd rather not have this conversation at all, "if I could have a moment of your time? I have been informed that I need to give you an apology."
The entire school waits with bated breath- will Lord Nott acknowledge Hermione's presence, and accept her request for an audience, or will he ignore her (which means a blood feud will be registered between the Ancient and Noble House of Nott and Hermione Granger before the day is out)? Slowly Lord Nott puts down his goblet and turns around, pulling one leg, and then the other, out from the bench, until he is facing Hermione. He leans against the table with a grace only found in those who have had the finest lessons in deportment and arches a single eyebrow.
"Yes, Granger?" He asks with odium, somehow giving the appearance that he is looking down upon her (even though he is seated and she standing). Lord Nott has his legs crossed at the ankle and looks at Hermione like he would love to see nothing more than her imminent downfall and most painful death- something that wouldn't be unsurprising as a great many of his ancestors had been burned at the stake by muggles, and wizarding memory ran long and deep.
Hermione sucks in a breath. "Through rather forceful instruction, and research of my own, I've discovered that I crossed a line in wearing the bracelet my aunt gave me this morning. I was not aware that the wearing of jewelry was regulated by the rules of propriety," she stops there for a moment, looking as if she has to mentally restrain herself from saying something that would most certainly get her hexed, "and I give you my apologies for appearing to wear a courtship gift from your family."
She looks as if she thinks that the rules of propriety and the rituals of courtship are ridiculous, backwards, and barbaric ideals instead of honored traditions and a significant aspect of wizarding culture. Ginny Weasley's sharp looks and near-frightening glares are the only things keeping Hermione from turning and leaving.
Lord Nott sits still for the longest of moments, not moving a muscle, eyes closed in what appears to be meditation. His eyes open, just as two minutes pass since Hermione's apology (all the occupants of the Great Hall are still waiting with baited breath) and he looks at his signet ring, brushing the pad of his thumb over his family crest, before raising his eyes to look at Hermione. "Your apology has been accepted, Granger," he states with finality, his voice dripping derision and hauteur, before turning around and resuming his breakfast.
With a huff, Hermione spins on her heel and marches towards the Gryffindor table, Ginny beckoning her over and looking proud. The Great Hall comes alive with conversation, buzzing with the kind of excitement people get after witnessing a confrontation. Hermione and Ginny sit at the end of the Gryffindor table, ducking their heads together and beginning a conversation conducted entirely in hushed whispers (even though they have more than enough privacy).
"Filthy little mudblood," Heir Draco Malfoy says with a sneer, sending a murderous glare to Hermione's back. "People like her are the reason Hogwarts should be open only to those that give our traditions the proper respect they deserve." Heir Malfoy is still bitter over Hermione's refusal of his family's offer of fostering and makes his sore pride common knowledge by insulting her every chance he gets. He has a right to, as it is a right and an honor to foster new members of magical society, and a matter of deep shame if said offer is rescinded.
Several people around Heir Malfoy nod their agreement. Hermione Granger's actions and words rile many, and a lot of purebloods don't like challenges to their traditions. Changes can be made, especially in terms of education and fostering, but far too many (at least in Slytherin) like things the way they are. If things have worked for the last millennia, why do they need to be changed?
"Maybe if there was more opportunities for education about wizarding culture, this wouldn't be an issue," Sir Kevin Entwistle, the former muggleborn (newblood now) says acerbically. "We're thrown into an entirely new culture with only one avenue for understanding and learning about it all. If you didn't hoard your traditions and ways, and actually taught muggleborns -because fostering isn't an option for everyone -gaffes like this would cease to exist."
Though Sir Entwistle has a point that many of the nearby scions reluctantly acknowledge, Heir Malfoy and several others wear looks of disdain and irritation. "Why would we freely give away some of our treasured, most sacred knowledge, to those who are only going to leave our world right after graduating from Hogwarts?" Heiress Parkinson shoots back. "Some do stay," she says in acquiesce at Sir Entwistle's sharp glare, "but it's nowhere near the numbers to make such a venture feasible."
Sir Entwistle rolls his eyes, sighing in exasperation. "I respect the fact that you don't dismiss this notion out of hand, Heiress Parkinson, but I must digress; the reason so many new to magic leave the Magical world is because they are made to feel horribly unwelcome, disparaged and sneered at because we don't meet the standards. Standards that are nearly impossible to meet, because even though the fostering system exists, many are only given the barest of education in the culture they're thrust into. An alarming number of rules are left unexplained, traditions and rituals ignored- it's the most extreme form of culture shock possible."
The newblood, who has one of the brightest minds in centuries, crosses his arms. "It's also quite terrifying, as an 11 year old, to be handed a contract by someone you don't even know. A contract oftentime worded in such archaic language you can't read it, and only given the barest of explanations when questioned. Not to mention the insane double standard that exists: muggleborns are expected to master every possible aspect of magical culture, are treated horribly when they fall even a millimeter short by people who have the books and knowledge to teach them, but lord that same knowledge over their heads."
The discussion has drawn quite a crowd, and the chatter in the Great Hall had dropped dramatically. Sir Entwistle is bringing up points that fellow muggleborns have been making for decades, and the gentry who usually dismiss them out of hand are actually listening. This conversation, quite literally, has the power to change magical society for the better. If the right people agree with Sir Entwistle's statements, the number of muggleborns who left the wizarding world could plummet, and the wizarding world wouldn't lose dozens of bright minds, dedicated individuals, and new blood. His audience, Heiress Parkinson and those surrounding her, have been left speechless, leaving Sir Entwistle with the opportunity to add one more nail to the coffin.
"Did Granger make a mistake this morning by wearing that bracelet, yes. Has she spurred wizarding culture for the past six years, yes. All of this could have been avoided if she had the proper education on the culture she was entering, and a warm welcome instead of disdain and sneers." He cocks his head for a moment, looking to be deep in thought. "I thought that it was magic that mattered most, not blood."
Without waiting for a reply, which is a minor breach in propriety, Sir Entwistle turns and leaves. Chatter springs up in the Great Hall the moment he steps out of the entranceway, which was perhaps something he intended. Yes, jewelry matters in society, but maybe there are things more important than courtship rites. One thing was for sure; magical society would change, and this was most definitely the spark that started the blaze.
Many thanks to Alix the Alien Cyborg for beta-reading.
Reviews make me happy, and I love to know what people liked, so let me know what you think.