Octavian had decided to attempt a better understanding of Judeo-Christian theology, idiocy though he knew it to be. His conversation with Michael had convinced him he ought to know his enemy
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Vladimir's ability to use his theory in order to better tolerate his exile, as it did make it impersonal, was probably due to his age. He was already approaching the point where he realized he didn't have forever, and being a dedicated hedonist, he did wish to enjoy his remaining years to the best of his ability. And so, if he was actually stuck here, there was at least the consolation that he'd be able to do so without nearly as high a likelihood of assassins or poison or other common causes of Imperial death. It still wasn't a cheering topic. There were a great deal of things he was starting to seriously miss, especially the bedroom slaves.
Octavian's offer to take him to the Muggle studies department was an excellent distraction, and he smiled thankfully. Octavian was far better company than any house elf he could order to take him there. "You know where it is? I'd appreciate that very much, Octavian- I confess I'm growing impatient to learn more about it." He wondered briefly if he wasn't quite polite enough in his response- after all, this was Augustus Caesar offering to escort him around a school! "Only if it wouldn't interrupt any of your plans, of course." He hoped this would cover any possible breach of etiquette.
"Quite the contrary, I've had my fill of this stuff for the day," Octavian said as he rose and gathered his books. The books, of course, were this stuff.
In his own mind, Octavian was still the young protege of Julius Caesar, not the eminent (indeed, august) personage recorded in the annals of history. He was not yet Augustus Caesar in his own mind -- indeed, he knew of the Augustus name only from his readings in Hogwarts' library; himself, he had been considering the name Romulus, not Augustus at all. He was used to being the junior member of any important gathering, the underestimated whelp of the Julii; and as such, he saw nothing odd about serving as guide to one of his elders.
It might also be noted that Octavian thought of the Baron, by this time, as a sort of foreign potentate.
He gathered up his blanket and whatnot, and tucked them away in the basket the elves had provided for him; the books he carried in a bookbag. Laden with his various accoutrements, he might have looked like a servant himself -- except that as soon as he and the Baron re-entered the castle, Octavian snapped his fingers to summon a house elf at once, and loaded the elf down with the lot of it, imparting curt instructions as to the disposition thereof. This left him unencumbered for the short walk to the Muggle Studies room.
As they walked, he told the Baron what he remembered of the Muggle Studies room. It did not help that the objects in the room were nearly as unfamiliar to Octavian as to a purebred wizard. He remembered televisions from his visit to Muggle Scotland, when Maia had explained all sorts of things to him. Atari systems, not so much. He did know the room contained a model kitchen, though he readily confessed he had not the faintest notion how Muggles worked the appliances -- "they ought to have slaves for that," said the young patrician.
Also, there was a stereo. He had the vaguest notion about those. "They are played by 'deejays'," Octavian related. Thus had his nightclub visit taught him. And because he had to explain that, too, he described the nightclub he had visited: "utterly ghastly, and frequented by the worst sort of people." By the time he had finished denouncing the lowlifes of Glasgow, they had reached the Muggle Studies room.
Octavian's offer to take him to the Muggle studies department was an excellent distraction, and he smiled thankfully. Octavian was far better company than any house elf he could order to take him there. "You know where it is? I'd appreciate that very much, Octavian- I confess I'm growing impatient to learn more about it." He wondered briefly if he wasn't quite polite enough in his response- after all, this was Augustus Caesar offering to escort him around a school! "Only if it wouldn't interrupt any of your plans, of course." He hoped this would cover any possible breach of etiquette.
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In his own mind, Octavian was still the young protege of Julius Caesar, not the eminent (indeed, august) personage recorded in the annals of history. He was not yet Augustus Caesar in his own mind -- indeed, he knew of the Augustus name only from his readings in Hogwarts' library; himself, he had been considering the name Romulus, not Augustus at all. He was used to being the junior member of any important gathering, the underestimated whelp of the Julii; and as such, he saw nothing odd about serving as guide to one of his elders.
It might also be noted that Octavian thought of the Baron, by this time, as a sort of foreign potentate.
He gathered up his blanket and whatnot, and tucked them away in the basket the elves had provided for him; the books he carried in a bookbag. Laden with his various accoutrements, he might have looked like a servant himself -- except that as soon as he and the Baron re-entered the castle, Octavian snapped his fingers to summon a house elf at once, and loaded the elf down with the lot of it, imparting curt instructions as to the disposition thereof. This left him unencumbered for the short walk to the Muggle Studies room.
As they walked, he told the Baron what he remembered of the Muggle Studies room. It did not help that the objects in the room were nearly as unfamiliar to Octavian as to a purebred wizard. He remembered televisions from his visit to Muggle Scotland, when Maia had explained all sorts of things to him. Atari systems, not so much. He did know the room contained a model kitchen, though he readily confessed he had not the faintest notion how Muggles worked the appliances -- "they ought to have slaves for that," said the young patrician.
Also, there was a stereo. He had the vaguest notion about those. "They are played by 'deejays'," Octavian related. Thus had his nightclub visit taught him. And because he had to explain that, too, he described the nightclub he had visited: "utterly ghastly, and frequented by the worst sort of people." By the time he had finished denouncing the lowlifes of Glasgow, they had reached the Muggle Studies room.
"This is the place."
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