I keep thinking of Kolya. I told him, last week, that I finally understood that huge argument we had, when I first returned to England after my Mastery, where I blew up at him for all his fretting about me and his reluctance to involve me in his work with he-whose-name-I-shall-never-again-write. I wonder how many of us came to the point where we could not, in good conscience, involve those we loved in the Unmaker's tangles, but did not dare say so.
(And then I remembered that same argument, where Kolya burst out that he hoped I had a son just like me someday, and then stopped yelling at me to laugh and say he didn't know if he meant it as a curse or a blessing. And I told him it was a blessing, whole and entire, to have one person in whom I have utter faith that I will never be betrayed.)
And thank all the gods there were or are for you, indeed.
I keep choosing the wrong people as proteges. Or the right people, but from the wrong side. Perhaps the gods are trying to tell me that I have used all my fortune in choosing, for a lifetime, in you.
Ah -- so you did hear my little temper fit, then. I'd hoped you'd already left for Buckingham. (When will you be back to sleeping here, anyway? Or is that a complex question? I can join you, if you'd like; I am only sleeping here out of habit. Well, out of habit and because if I have lost my sanctuary at Hogwarts, I will defend Cottesmore with my last breath, but I suppose that much is a given.)
At any rate. It isn't just that he's come down so firmly on the Phoenix's side; I told Perks, and I was not lying, that I'm proud of them all for having chosen a cause and dedicated themselves to it, even if it's not the side I chose. (And even though that pride will not change how I must now treat them.) It isn't even the waste of potential, or the fact he is undoubtedly going to use that training against us: I am confident either you or I could prevail against him in a fight, under the "old age and treachery" clause; he is good, preternaturally so, but he still has a great deal of experience to go.
No, I find it's the premeditation that bothers me. And you're more right than you know. Do you know -- he told me on Sunday, that being the proximate cause for my little fit of redecoration, that he isn't the children of Squibs after all: he is Muggleborn. And he's been plotting this the whole way. Every helpful gesture, every listening ear, every cup of coffee brought at the tail end of a late night, every bit of assistance proffered. Every offer to spar, every bit of backup on a mission. It's all been carefully calculated, all along.
If it had only been that he looked at both sides of the equation and decided one would have to be a madman to follow the madman-whose-name-I-shall-never-write-again, that would be one thing, but for him to have been plotting from the start, and for me to have missed it, for so long? I feel like an idiot. And so damnably foolish. I was better at this, once upon a time. Perhaps it is only that my heart has not been in the cause, not for too damn long. Or perhaps I am getting old and slow, and this is a sign.
I'm sorry, lapushka, I'm clearly suffering from an extra helping of Russian fatalism tonight. Best if we keep this from Bella (and Rod), I suppose. It will only complicate things further.
I don't know whether it's truth or lie, but either way, it stings. And if it is truth, it does make a great many things that I'd chalked up to a Continental education come clear.
(He called me a hypocrite, you know. For being insufficiently orthodox in my reading material and my own acquaintances. I suppose I can't argue that accusation too vehemently.)
At any rate. I'm just sulking because my pride is bruised, dear heart. Come home, and get a good night's sleep.
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(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 05:48 am (UTC)I keep thinking of Kolya. I told him, last week, that I finally understood that huge argument we had, when I first returned to England after my Mastery, where I blew up at him for all his fretting about me and his reluctance to involve me in his work with he-whose-name-I-shall-never-again-write. I wonder how many of us came to the point where we could not, in good conscience, involve those we loved in the Unmaker's tangles, but did not dare say so.
(And then I remembered that same argument, where Kolya burst out that he hoped I had a son just like me someday, and then stopped yelling at me to laugh and say he didn't know if he meant it as a curse or a blessing. And I told him it was a blessing, whole and entire, to have one person in whom I have utter faith that I will never be betrayed.)
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 05:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 05:59 am (UTC)I keep choosing the wrong people as proteges. Or the right people, but from the wrong side. Perhaps the gods are trying to tell me that I have used all my fortune in choosing, for a lifetime, in you.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 06:04 am (UTC)His statement was treachery. An affront.
You couldn't help but feel it personally. Sunday evening. I apologise. I should have made myself known, but I also didn't wish to disturb you.
If I ever have the opportunity, I will be sure he suffers exquisite torments for it.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 06:15 am (UTC)Have never read so much arrogant nonsense. And such utter idealistic twaddle.
Right about one thing only: his equality with the filth and beasts he imagines he'll raise up.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 06:26 am (UTC)At any rate. It isn't just that he's come down so firmly on the Phoenix's side; I told Perks, and I was not lying, that I'm proud of them all for having chosen a cause and dedicated themselves to it, even if it's not the side I chose. (And even though that pride will not change how I must now treat them.) It isn't even the waste of potential, or the fact he is undoubtedly going to use that training against us: I am confident either you or I could prevail against him in a fight, under the "old age and treachery" clause; he is good, preternaturally so, but he still has a great deal of experience to go.
No, I find it's the premeditation that bothers me. And you're more right than you know. Do you know -- he told me on Sunday, that being the proximate cause for my little fit of redecoration, that he isn't the children of Squibs after all: he is Muggleborn. And he's been plotting this the whole way. Every helpful gesture, every listening ear, every cup of coffee brought at the tail end of a late night, every bit of assistance proffered. Every offer to spar, every bit of backup on a mission. It's all been carefully calculated, all along.
If it had only been that he looked at both sides of the equation and decided one would have to be a madman to follow the madman-whose-name-I-shall-never-write-again, that would be one thing, but for him to have been plotting from the start, and for me to have missed it, for so long? I feel like an idiot. And so damnably foolish. I was better at this, once upon a time. Perhaps it is only that my heart has not been in the cause, not for too damn long. Or perhaps I am getting old and slow, and this is a sign.
I'm sorry, lapushka, I'm clearly suffering from an extra helping of Russian fatalism tonight. Best if we keep this from Bella (and Rod), I suppose. It will only complicate things further.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 06:53 am (UTC)That's a damn lie!
Throwing dung on the faith you kept with him.
(Afraid there's little chance of keeping it from Bella now that I know he said it.)
A mudblood? He seriously thought you'd take him at that word?
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 06:55 am (UTC)Will be at Cottesmore in three minutes. At the most.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-06-02 06:59 am (UTC)(He called me a hypocrite, you know. For being insufficiently orthodox in my reading material and my own acquaintances. I suppose I can't argue that accusation too vehemently.)
At any rate. I'm just sulking because my pride is bruised, dear heart. Come home, and get a good night's sleep.