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Good Comapny


Jack Scout and the rest of the Ilvermorny team were of course pretty much anything that any of the students could talk about. Most of the Hogwarts girls fancied Jack’s blonde hair and twangy accent, which, they had learned by a week later, was a Texas accent; Jack was from a city called Austin.

Others of the Hogwarts girls were dreamy for his Pukwudgie chaser, Eric Danes, who was apparently of Native American descent and had a long black braid down his back and deep tan skin. Word was that Eric lived on a reservation in Arizona and knew loads about the ancient American wizarding legends, as his mum was a medicine woman and was very skilled in the area of divination. Eric Danes’s mum was apparently famous enough in the States that when Professor Kostos Mopsus, the Divination teacher, heard he was among the Ilvermorny team members visiting the school, he’d asked Eric to speak to his Divination class.

The boys were of course still nuts about Dawn Gleason, whose flawless skin and silvery hair were a product of the sun-kissed California coast that she called home.

It seemed that everyone knew all there was to know about the Ilvermorny students - where they came from, stats about their season back home at the school, and more - and they passed the information about in whispered conversations in doorways and corridors throughout the school. Anyone with further information than what was already known was held in the highest regard and became instantly popular until the new talk had dispersed its way through the entire student body.

Derek was therefore heralded as a near godlike figure as he was the only one that had so far managed to make close friends with any of the Ilvermorny students, even if it was only because he was the opposing team captain. Derek had spent a good deal of time with the Ilvermorny students, showing them about the castle as best he could and talking rules and whatnots with them. There was a lot of important things that had been set in place specifically for the tourney and the two teams spent absolute eons in talks about them… something that both annoyed James for the amount of his time it took up, and also excited him because it meant that he was immensely popular as one of the prime people to gather new information about the Ilvermorny lot.

“Meg Johnson is from a place called Seattle,” James told Sirius one day. He’d been paired off with Meg at the last tourney meeting to get to know her, seeing as she was the Ilvermorny Seeker. It seemed to James that Meg’s hair, which was huge and red and just as frizzy as cotton candy, would get in the way of trying to find the snitch if there was a wind. Although, he reckoned that the snitch might get stuck up in it there was so much of it, and maybe that was her advantage. “We were talking some about what it’s like in America and it sounds a bit rough actually.”

“Rough? In America?” Sirius sounded surprised. They were about halfway across the stone bridge and looking over the side into the depths of the crags, hanging around between classes, waiting for Remus and Peter, who had gone back to the dormitory to fetch a book Peter had forgotten. Sirius was sitting on one of the sills of the great stone cut outs, his back to the crags below, which made James nervous; one good wind and Sirius would go over the edge, but Sirius seemed comfortable enough with it, so he didn’t say anything. “What’s rough about it?”

“Well, they’re not very muggle-friendly over there, I guess,” James answered, “Meg called it backwards. She said that most of the people don’t believe Muggles and Wizards should mingle at all, and shouldn’t interfere with lives, like not even to save them. They stay separated at all times.”

“That’s what the Statute of Secrecey’s about, dummy,” Sirius said.

“No it’s more extreme than all that,” James said, “They don’t even have half-bloods at Ilvermorny, Meg said. They’re all purebloods. American wizards that aren’t purebloods never know they’re magical at all because they don’t want to mix with muggles.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “So it’s like Voldemort’s dream place then.”

“Well, no,” James said, “Not exactly. They’re not violent toward muggles, they just don’t interact with them at all. It’s against the law. She called the muggles no-majs, too.”

“No-majs?” Sirius crinkled his nose, “What a ridiculous word.”

James shrugged, “Muggle’s pretty strange of a word, too, I s’pose, if you think about it.” He paused, “Then again, if you think of it, most words are pretty strange. Language in general in strange. Life is strange.” James’s eyes went all distant as he stared off over the grounds.

“Whoa, hold on, slow down there, you’re getting far too philosophical far too quickly for this time of day,” Sirius said, holding up his hand to stop James, who grinned at him, coming back to their current topic. “So wait, say there was a muggle being attacked by, I dunno, a mugger or something, and an American wizard sees it. They just… let the mugger have a go?”

“Apparently,” James answered.

“Well that’s ruddy idiotic,” Sirius said, “What’s the point of being magic if we can’t help people that need it?” He frowned, “Isn’t that the moral of the story of the Hopping Pot?”

“Yeah,” James replied, nodding, “The Hopping Pot attacks the healer’s son because he wouldn’t help the muggles. But I s’pose Beedle the Bard isn’t as popular in the States. They probably have some other literature there.”

“Other literature? But Beedle the Bard is classic!” Sirius exclaimed, “Everybody has read Beedle the Bard.”

James shrugged. “Dunno what to tell you, mate. I didn’t ask her if she had read it. You’re the one who brought up Beedle the Bard. She was telling me this about the wizards and the no-majs because I’d mentioned about my Dad and she said most of the American wizards wouldn’t have dreamed of helping out Mr. Parish from the fire, or of casting protective spells over the houses of muggle families, like the Resistance has done. My dad would’ve been arrested and sent to their wizarding prison for having contact with the No-Maj. She said she wasn’t one that would think that way, but that her views are pretty rare. She said Thunderbirds tend to be more free thinking than the other houses, she used the word liberals.”

“Liberals?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Apparently it’s something to do with politics.”

Sirius jumped down off the window, seeing Remus and Peter coming across the threshold of the bridge. “Did she say what the other houses were like?”

James shook his head, “Not really.”

“Well it sounds like Thunderbirds are alright, at least,” Sirius said.

Remus and Peter approached them, Peter was out of breath and carrying his book, puffing as they walked up. “Sorry that took so long,” Remus apologized as the other two fell into stride beside them as they walked on, headed for the greenhouses. “Peter couldn’t find his book.”

Peter turned quite red.

James smirked and elbowed Peter. “You had it in your book bag, didn’t you?” Peter mumbled something incoherent and sped up ahead of the other boys, scurrying as fast as he could down the steps and out the door to the courtyard. James and the others laughed as he went, speeding off through the puddles formed by earlier rain showers. “Swear he’d lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on,” James snickered.

“He’d look a good deal more attractive if he did lose it,” Sirius joked and James laughed, slapping Sirius a high-five for the burner on Peter.

By the next morning’s breakfast, the word had passed about how the Americans were less than friendly with muggles. The word no-maj was being whispered all over the Great Hall, passed along from student to student like that old game of telephone that children played on school yards. The Ilvermorny students sat at Gryffindor table, eating their sausages and beans - commenting on how odd it was to have beans for breakfast - when Alistor Mulciber and a couple other Slytherins, including Isaac Horan, who was on the All Star team as a Beater, approached the table.

Bilius Weasley looked up and his eyebrows stitched together, “What do you want, Mulciber?” he asked.

Alistor Mulciber smiled, “Weasle-y,” he said, purposely mispronouncing Bilius’s name. He turned to look at Jack Scout, who was sitting just a couple seats away from where he stood. “I actually came to welcome our visiting team to Hogwarts, belatedly. Isaac here was just telling us more about your culture and we realized we hadn’t been by to say, er, Howdy just yet.” He smiled cordially. “I just wanted to personally shake your hand and welcome you, Scout.” He held out his palm to the Ilvermorny captain.

“They’re up to something,” hissed Sirius to James down the table.

“They’re Slytherins, they’re always up to something,” James answered.

Jack Scout wiped his mouth and stood up to shake Mulciber’s hand right back, “Why thanks a lot for this greetin’, I ‘preciate it.” Jack’s smile was wide. “You’re friends with Isaac, are ya? In the same house?” He pointed to the matching green and silver ties ‘round their necks.

“Yes, we are both of Slytherin house,” Mulciber replied.

By this point, several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were watching from their own tables. Derek Bell looked on quite suspiciously, too, from his own seat, across from Jack’s now empty place.

Mulciber’s eyes twinkled with intent. “We were wondering if you and your teammates might be more comfortable at the Slytherin table. We, at least, share a lot of the same culture views as you hold.” He waved a palm back to the long table at the far end of the Great Hall. “You see, you’re currently seated at a table full of mudbloods, half-bloods, and muggle-lovers.”

Bilius’s eyebrows narrowed.

James heard Meg Johnson groan down the table. James looked at Meg just in time to see her stand up. “Who gives a damn what anybody’s blood status is, this is ridiculous.”

Jack gave Meg a look and she pursed her lips, clearly furious, but she didn’t say anything else. Mulciber’s grin widened at the angry look on Meg’s face, “Our house, Slytherin, is all of pureblood descent.”

“Not entirely,” snapped Sirius, “Snape for one is a half-blood. I’m sure there’s more that are half-bloods or muggle-borns over there, and if you think not then you’re delirious and they’re liars.”

“Being a liar’s better’n bein’ a blood traitor, inn’it?” snapped Amycus Carrow, one of the others who’d come over to the Gryffindor table. Sirius stood up, drawing his wand as he did. James stood, too, fire in his eyes, his fists raised up, ready to throw a punch. Amycus laughed, “Look’it,” he said, elbowing Alistor Mulciber, “The Potter kid even tries to fight like a muggle. Disgrace to a pureblood line!” He spat on the floor and Peter only just managed to get his feet tugged out of the way before the saliva landed on his sneakers.

Bilius stood up, “Oi! Black - Potter - both of you, sit down. Now.”

“Don’t talk to my mates like that!” Sirius shouted. “I’ll hex you!” Remus tugged on Sirius’s robes, pulling him back down to the bench as James sat hesitantly down beside him.

Bilius glared at Mulciber, Carrow and Horan. “Why don’t you lot go back where you belong?” he demanded, “Stop trying to butt in where you aren’t wanted.”

Mulciber shrugged, “As you wish, Weasle-ly.” He turned to look at Jack Scout. “Just remember, you’re welcome any time you want to get some good company. Right over there.” He jacked his thumb at the Slytherin table. He nodded to the other two, “C’mon, you lot, let’s go. We don’t want to be too near the riff-raff anyway, you never know what sort of disease they could be carrying from all the mudbloods they come in contact with.” With that, the three of them turned and wandered off to their own side of the Hall.

“Sorry about that,” Derek said, “The Slytherins are really confrontational and rather rude at times… Not an evil wizard in history here that hasn’t come from their house.”

Jack nodded as he settled himself down onto his seat again, though he was staring after the Slytherins’ retreating backs, James noticed, a bit too enticed by the offer of a pureblood table.