Tradition and Power
She looked around the compartment making eye contact with every one of her peers. In most cases, grim determination stared back.
"The Dark, on the other hand, would have us rip our world in three. In their irrational fear of what they don't understand they would reject even the most basic of human decencies to spread contempt and fear throughout our world. They also claim to fight the good fight, to bring needed reform to a world that is stagnating, while protecting our culture and legacies. But their methods would result in our total destruction, not our ascension.
"We do not care about blood, so long as your mind is sharp and your wand is strong. We do not care about nobility, so long as you strive to be the best at whatever it is you do. And we do not care about past mistakes, so long as you look to future with steel and determination."
Granger was actually leaning forward in her seat, eyes gleaming brighter than the Express's scarlet shell. The moment she caught the girl's eye though, the newly wavy-haired witch folded her arms and sat straight again, though the gleam did remain.
"The Light and the Dark are making mistakes, but they are not the people within them. The Light and the Dark are ideas. They are collections of beliefs, and, in many cases, they are loosely collected groups of vested interests. Interests shift. Minds can be changed. And the people who yesterday were our enemies, may tomorrow be our greatest allies.
"We have a golden opportunity before us. We have seven years to learn and grow. Seven years to get to know each other and form alliances and friendships that can weather the storms life will throw at us. But that cannot happen if we allow Hogwarts to divide us. So…"-she paused-"I'd like to suggest we set aside some time every few weeks to get together for dinner. That way at least, we'll not fall foul to the trap of believing that what colour your tie is, somehow dictates who you must like and hate."
Parvati and Tracey scoffed. The dramatic tension broke.
"Sound good?"
She looked around. Most everyone nodded. "What about you, Hopkins?"
Hopkins hesitated, then also nodded.
"Excellent, let's get down to business then."
Granger whipped out a piece of parchment and a quill, and with the faint click clack sound of the train in the background, they started fleshing out details for the next few weeks.
...
In the first compartment, muggle London gradually faded into the distance behind them.
Harry certainly was not smirking. No, absolutely not.
"Where is Turpin?" Nott scowled towards the door.
Draco put down his quidditch book, threw a bored glance towards where Nott scowled, and shrugged. "No matter. It's her own fault if she's late. We start without her."
The blonde haired boy shot him a glance before speaking with an aristocratic drawl. "One and half thousand years ago, Merlin created the Albion family magics to rule over this land. He forced the families of the time to work together to better the fate of magicals as a whole. And he left behind a legacy to ensure that those who had proved themselves worthy would have the right to lead our people."
Harry glanced around the compartment. All eight seats were full - Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Su Li. All purebloods. All except him.
"My own family arrived on these shores in 1066. We worked hard for the good of all and overtime proved ourselves worthy of the trust Merlin established all those centuries before."
Su Li stared, quiet but intense, as befitting the probably future Ravenclaw.
"But not long after that, the rituals used to ennoble worthy families were lost, hunted down, destroyed, and for five-hundred years we've lived without. For five-hundred years, families have striven and proved themselves worthy, yet gained no recognition. Ennoblement was replaced with 'The Order of Merlin'." Draco made as though to spit. "A pretty piece of silver and gold to hang on your robes and parade for an hour of glory."
Crabbe and Goyle's fists were clenched. Bulstrode scowled.
"Families like the Goyles, the Crabbes, the Carrows, the Bulstrodes, and the Crouches, and yes, even families like the Dumbledores, who, five-hundred years ago, would have been granted seats on the Wizengamot, have been denied their earned right to help guide our world, simply because the rituals of Merlin have faded.
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