"I thought Professor Valenduris explained to all the muggleborns about Magic?"
The voice cried out in the wilderness that pervaded the Great Hall now, a jungle of madness as far as the boy's eye could see. It belonged to a student, he could tell that as his muscles tensed when she turned around to get a look at him. Grinningly warm, while whispering sweet words, this had to be temptation before him at last. Would he survive as long if his, too, stretched for forty days and nights?
"Professor Griffith told me that magic was an expression of divinity," Silas tried to explain, in hopes that the older girl might come to see the light. He cared not for the way she spoke to him, using that word he'd heard tossed about so disdainfully. Muggleborn, used in the same manner that his parents might for Catholics, and it sounded like such an ugly thing. The boy shouldn't like being seen as something ugly or disdainful, yet in this such crowd, would being adored really be so highly prized?
If divinity was being expressed here, it doing an exceptional job at hiding.
The way that the student spoke of it, he couldn't think there had been any such magic performed at his hands. When the goblet began to glow, and the metal reshaped, all Silas could think of was the story of Moses. The pharaoh had his magicians, too, who had cast snakes forth from staves. That was magic meant to deceive, to trick, that couldn't be the kind of magic the professor had spoken of this summer. Otherwise he, and his parents too, had fallen victim to those serpents of deceit. The boy might have taken a step back from the profane transformation, if the woman's hand was not so sturdy upon his shoulder.
A part of Silas wished he could still be small enough to hide behind a woman's skirts at the appearance of something awful. That was a childish desire, and he was not so much a child any longer. A sailor could not hide nor cower, but he was much more resilient with others in his crew. That made the boy smile when another student, a girl at the same table, stood up to join his small, but growing, alliance. He beamed at her, with all the camaraderie meant for others who could share in the burdens of true belief.
"Ipswich, but Grandfather has his estate in Dedham Vale proper. Have you ever been?" Silas found some warmth again in responding to the girl, who didn't talk so far down to him as the others. Perhaps he might find other kindred souls at this school after all. That sung like a hymn carried on his soul, loosening the fear in his body. She was only one more voice, but sometimes one voice was enough to stir the faith of many.
The voice cried out in the wilderness that pervaded the Great Hall now, a jungle of madness as far as the boy's eye could see. It belonged to a student, he could tell that as his muscles tensed when she turned around to get a look at him. Grinningly warm, while whispering sweet words, this had to be temptation before him at last. Would he survive as long if his, too, stretched for forty days and nights?
"Professor Griffith told me that magic was an expression of divinity," Silas tried to explain, in hopes that the older girl might come to see the light. He cared not for the way she spoke to him, using that word he'd heard tossed about so disdainfully. Muggleborn, used in the same manner that his parents might for Catholics, and it sounded like such an ugly thing. The boy shouldn't like being seen as something ugly or disdainful, yet in this such crowd, would being adored really be so highly prized?
If divinity was being expressed here, it doing an exceptional job at hiding.
The way that the student spoke of it, he couldn't think there had been any such magic performed at his hands. When the goblet began to glow, and the metal reshaped, all Silas could think of was the story of Moses. The pharaoh had his magicians, too, who had cast snakes forth from staves. That was magic meant to deceive, to trick, that couldn't be the kind of magic the professor had spoken of this summer. Otherwise he, and his parents too, had fallen victim to those serpents of deceit. The boy might have taken a step back from the profane transformation, if the woman's hand was not so sturdy upon his shoulder.
A part of Silas wished he could still be small enough to hide behind a woman's skirts at the appearance of something awful. That was a childish desire, and he was not so much a child any longer. A sailor could not hide nor cower, but he was much more resilient with others in his crew. That made the boy smile when another student, a girl at the same table, stood up to join his small, but growing, alliance. He beamed at her, with all the camaraderie meant for others who could share in the burdens of true belief.
"Ipswich, but Grandfather has his estate in Dedham Vale proper. Have you ever been?" Silas found some warmth again in responding to the girl, who didn't talk so far down to him as the others. Perhaps he might find other kindred souls at this school after all. That sung like a hymn carried on his soul, loosening the fear in his body. She was only one more voice, but sometimes one voice was enough to stir the faith of many.
![[Image: gmrJODQ.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/C1CRPwJD/gmrJODQ.png)