brief one-shot, followed by: an owl to Snape!
Ari was learning. Mostly about the structure of Hogwarts-now and Hogwarts-as-it-used-to-be. She'd quickly come to the conclusion that to learn anything academic, she'd really need to talk to Hogwarts natives. She wasn't discounting the knowledge or talents of other transplants and latecomers, by any means. For actual Hogwarts-based skills, though, she wanted an insider's view.
There was one person she'd met at her Sorting who fit that criterion: Snape. He was obviously steeped in Hogwarts tradition. None too happy about the way things currently worked at Hogwarts, because he was attached to the way it used to be; and the way it used to be, that ur-Hogwarts, clearly mattered to him profoundly and deeply. There would always be people in any society who harbored reactionary impulses, especially in a time of accelerated change, and Ari was beginning to understand just how rapid the change must've been here.
Dealing with Snape didn't seem like it would be very easy. He'd been pretty prickly when they started talking. She'd been able to Work the conversation a little, position herself as a better fit into his picture of an ideal Hogwarts: being a witch was what mattered to him. Since there were lots of people here who could use magic -- almost everyone, as far as Ari could tell; whether they developed the talent and worked at it was something else -- and since Snape didn't seem to consider this influx of people as a positive thing, a witch or wizard wasn't just someone who could use magic. It had to be something more than that.
What it made Ari think of, more than anything, was Reseune: the way Reseune had been built, in her genemother's mother's time, and the way the rejuv-bolstered Families had shaped it to meet their expectations. There was a kind of oligarchy in it, a kind of aristocracy. Oh, you could make it on merit, and you couldn't fake results in the lab. But all the same: It mattered if your name was Emory, or Carnath, or Nye. It made you special, opened doors for you.
Being descended from the founders, carrying their genetic legacy.
Ari loved Reseune, as much as it'd felt like a prison at times. It was her nest, it was her home. She wanted to change it to suit herself, and she was impatient with the old guard quibbling over her budget when she knew that some changes were going to have a major psychological impact for the positive (which meant more productivity; everyone won; why quibble, damn it), but she didn't want it abolished by any stretch of the imagination. Didn't want to give up the monopoly over azi production, all azi contracted to Reseune. Didn't want to see everything farmed out and watered down and stripped of what made it work.
Could understand Snape's attitude, in that light, even if she suspected that getting on the wrong side of him would be like crossing an unholy combination of Yanni Schwartz and Denys Nye. All of Yanni's gruffness, without the soft center; all of Denys' ice, without the ingratiating and placating act Denys put on.
She might end up on the wrong side of Snape, still. But she hoped not: Ari didn't like to not get along with people, if she could help it, until they crossed her. Then that was a whole different problem.
And for the present, she thought she had enough goodwill amassed from their Sorting conversation that she could make a useful contact.
She used the old-fashioned owl system to write. She even used a quill, wishing she had a dose of kat and a good calligraphy tape; she managed a not-inelegant hand, after some practice. And what she wrote was this:
Professor Snape:
I hope I'm not presuming too far on our brief acquaintance: we met at my recent Sorting. I haven't met anyone here who knows nearly as much about Hogwarts' magic. As we discussed at the Sorting, I am new to magic. If it isn't too much trouble, may I ask your advice on a couple of points? And if you prefer not to correspond with me -- I understand you must be quite busy -- would you be willing to refer me to another person whose knowledge and experience you respect?
Regards,
Ariane Emory
There was one person she'd met at her Sorting who fit that criterion: Snape. He was obviously steeped in Hogwarts tradition. None too happy about the way things currently worked at Hogwarts, because he was attached to the way it used to be; and the way it used to be, that ur-Hogwarts, clearly mattered to him profoundly and deeply. There would always be people in any society who harbored reactionary impulses, especially in a time of accelerated change, and Ari was beginning to understand just how rapid the change must've been here.
Dealing with Snape didn't seem like it would be very easy. He'd been pretty prickly when they started talking. She'd been able to Work the conversation a little, position herself as a better fit into his picture of an ideal Hogwarts: being a witch was what mattered to him. Since there were lots of people here who could use magic -- almost everyone, as far as Ari could tell; whether they developed the talent and worked at it was something else -- and since Snape didn't seem to consider this influx of people as a positive thing, a witch or wizard wasn't just someone who could use magic. It had to be something more than that.
What it made Ari think of, more than anything, was Reseune: the way Reseune had been built, in her genemother's mother's time, and the way the rejuv-bolstered Families had shaped it to meet their expectations. There was a kind of oligarchy in it, a kind of aristocracy. Oh, you could make it on merit, and you couldn't fake results in the lab. But all the same: It mattered if your name was Emory, or Carnath, or Nye. It made you special, opened doors for you.
Being descended from the founders, carrying their genetic legacy.
Ari loved Reseune, as much as it'd felt like a prison at times. It was her nest, it was her home. She wanted to change it to suit herself, and she was impatient with the old guard quibbling over her budget when she knew that some changes were going to have a major psychological impact for the positive (which meant more productivity; everyone won; why quibble, damn it), but she didn't want it abolished by any stretch of the imagination. Didn't want to give up the monopoly over azi production, all azi contracted to Reseune. Didn't want to see everything farmed out and watered down and stripped of what made it work.
Could understand Snape's attitude, in that light, even if she suspected that getting on the wrong side of him would be like crossing an unholy combination of Yanni Schwartz and Denys Nye. All of Yanni's gruffness, without the soft center; all of Denys' ice, without the ingratiating and placating act Denys put on.
She might end up on the wrong side of Snape, still. But she hoped not: Ari didn't like to not get along with people, if she could help it, until they crossed her. Then that was a whole different problem.
And for the present, she thought she had enough goodwill amassed from their Sorting conversation that she could make a useful contact.
She used the old-fashioned owl system to write. She even used a quill, wishing she had a dose of kat and a good calligraphy tape; she managed a not-inelegant hand, after some practice. And what she wrote was this:
Professor Snape:
I hope I'm not presuming too far on our brief acquaintance: we met at my recent Sorting. I haven't met anyone here who knows nearly as much about Hogwarts' magic. As we discussed at the Sorting, I am new to magic. If it isn't too much trouble, may I ask your advice on a couple of points? And if you prefer not to correspond with me -- I understand you must be quite busy -- would you be willing to refer me to another person whose knowledge and experience you respect?
Regards,
Ariane Emory