O Beija-Flor - Regulus Black (Complete)

XXXVI -

Alexander Kreisler was far too well-known for people in the UK for his name to come completely unknown by those people, but Cecilia Salazar was not from the UK, and she didn't care for Quidditch as much as peers had cared; of course she hadn't recognised the name of the Captain of the English Team, which seemed to be funny to Dumbledore as they Apparated into Kreisler's street.

"I didn't know he was famous," she defended herself.

"I'd think Regulus would've filled you in about Quidditch," he answered.

"We never talked about it, I don't like it, why would I go after such information?" she asked.

"Well, because Mister Black likes it very much, of course," Dumbledore answered as if it obvious.

"Of course," she repeated, frowning and not understanding the meaning he was hinting at behind it all. "Where did he learn such difficult magic, anyways?"

"In the Great School of Hohenzollern of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Lundshut, Lower Bavaria, of course," Dumbledore answered. "That's in Germany."

"I know where Bavaria is, sir, I did have geography lessons when I was a child," she answered, trying her best not to sound too combative.

"Good. They have a wonderful program of specialities in their program. Much like your old school, they have a different age allowed in the school – magical children from magical families are allowed in the school for Magical Control classes when they're as young as six years of age, it's a temporary thing, of course, so they don't have outbursts that could harm another person, and a child from a Muggle family is allowed to go to Magical Control classes as soon as they present magical attributes," Dumbledore said. "They are to stay in school from ten to eighteen, when they become adults. In the last year, the child choses a Speciality in their interest. In Mister Kreisler's example, it was Magical Core Examination and Control. A dying breed of magic, I fear, but so interesting."

She said nothing to that. She couldn't understand how a type of magic could be 'dying', it just meant that people weren't very interested in it, in general, and the people responsible for teaching it should somehow change that.

"How does that work in the UK? Nobody ever explained it to me?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"Well," he said, stopping in the middle of the street. "We have Academies which you can be enrolled in after you are done with school. Something similar to what muggles call 'university', though in shorter periods of learning," he smiled at her. "And we're here."

She looked at the house behind him, not that surprised about how rich it looked. The man inside was rich, no matter how common the street looked. It took her a moment to realise that they were standing in the middle of a Muggle street, but soon she felt the wards around the house – muggle repellent spells were common in magical households, but she had never seen one so forceful and so... clear; sure Grimmauld Place was also in the middle of a muggle street, but it wasn't as clear to every witch and wizard passing by.

The house stood out no matter what. While the houses around it were common higher-middle-class houses, that one in the middle of them seemed almost like it screamed of the owner's money. The house looked condescending to her – could houses have feeling? Could houses express feelings? – whatever it was that was inside of it, Cecilia feared she might never have enough money to touch it, even with all the Salazar money. Three floors, marble pathway to the front wooden door. Mahogany wood.

"Fucking hell," she managed to breathe out.

Dumbledore didn't scold her for her language, just nodded away as if there was a part of him that agreed with her.