I hadn't thought to consider how you would react to the matter in that light, of parents and children; it's understandable you would imagine yourself in the scenario in different role. (Well, and particularly after Arthur Weasley's unlamented demise -- even though you did not care for the man in the least, I can only imagine the memories of your father it must have bestirred. If it is any comfort to you, little brother: when next I apply myself to my devotions, I will be burning an offering for Abraxas's souls, along with those of my own dearly departed, and paying honour to his name. I know you view my practices as affectation and bemusement, but I do honour him, for what he has given us in you.)
But then, you and I have always had very differing concepts of death, and of the realms beyond. I've been mulling over, these last few hours as I pondered my reply to you, about what I would have felt if I had been in Finnigan's shoes with Kolya (were he still alive) as the sacrifice, or had I been the one bound with Barty's hand upon the knife. It isn't the same, of course, but -- I think it better, if the action is fated, that it come at the hands or the wand of one who will pay the traveller full honour, and who better for that than one of your family, if not of your blood? For they alone know how precious that blood truly is. I would rather go into the worlds beyond at the bidding of someone who loved me.
But I can see your fears, and Dominic's, when I remember that my faith is far from universal. And I hope you do know that whenever you do go forth -- may that day be far from now -- I will do everything within my power for those of your family you leave behind, as I know you would for me were I to leave any of my blood behind me.
And speaking of faith, I had nothing but, that you would be a most satisfactory acolyte -- well, you know there are none other in this world I would rather have at left and right hand for a rite such as this than Barty and you, save for Our Lord, and had He wished to take the circle, He would of course have played the Magus's role. Must admit I had similar reservations about the wisdom of Finnigan's participation when He first laid forth the possibility, but upon second thought, I believe I take His reasoning: the argument we laid at His feet was that Finnigan was more worth to Him alive than dead, and so He wished to take stock of Finnigan's mettle Himself. (As to that, I agree with you: the boy exceeded my already-high expectations for him. Well, Stephen's eye for potential outdoes even my own, and I am hardly surprised he claimed the pick of the litter to foster.)
I take your meaning about Our Lord's loss of patience, though. I wonder: I've been thinking, recently -- prompted by several conversations from a number of different directions -- about the difference between restoring and nurturing a realm into its full flower, and governing it once it has been shepherded past its childhood and through its growing pains. (And we spiral back to parents and children, and what is owed to, and owed from, each to the other.) Easier for me to see that difference, I suppose, what with having been away throughout those years as our realm moved from war to peace and seeing them now as contrast rather than step-by-step progression. It should have been expected, that our fervor should be co-opted by those who know nothing of our ideals and seek only self-aggrandisement, wanting power and prestige (and Our Lord's reflected glory) without ever understanding or honouring the price we paid, in blood and in sacrifice, to buy this world of which we dreamt for so long.
I do not think that price too dear. But I wonder if Our Lord might be having second thoughts about the being, rather than the becoming, He and we have bought for ourselves. Not of its value -- I have travelled far and wide and would not trade this nation built on our culture and our ideals for any dozen others I have visited between -- but after having fought for so long, the tedium of governing may be grinding Him down, now there are no glorious battles for Him to set his wand to.
I will think more about this. And do whatever I might, that He be reminded that we are His loyal hands, in this world and all the worlds thereafter.
Re: Private Message to Toshenka
But then, you and I have always had very differing concepts of death, and of the realms beyond. I've been mulling over, these last few hours as I pondered my reply to you, about what I would have felt if I had been in Finnigan's shoes with Kolya (were he still alive) as the sacrifice, or had I been the one bound with Barty's hand upon the knife. It isn't the same, of course, but -- I think it better, if the action is fated, that it come at the hands or the wand of one who will pay the traveller full honour, and who better for that than one of your family, if not of your blood? For they alone know how precious that blood truly is. I would rather go into the worlds beyond at the bidding of someone who loved me.
But I can see your fears, and Dominic's, when I remember that my faith is far from universal. And I hope you do know that whenever you do go forth -- may that day be far from now -- I will do everything within my power for those of your family you leave behind, as I know you would for me were I to leave any of my blood behind me.
And speaking of faith, I had nothing but, that you would be a most satisfactory acolyte -- well, you know there are none other in this world I would rather have at left and right hand for a rite such as this than Barty and you, save for Our Lord, and had He wished to take the circle, He would of course have played the Magus's role. Must admit I had similar reservations about the wisdom of Finnigan's participation when He first laid forth the possibility, but upon second thought, I believe I take His reasoning: the argument we laid at His feet was that Finnigan was more worth to Him alive than dead, and so He wished to take stock of Finnigan's mettle Himself. (As to that, I agree with you: the boy exceeded my already-high expectations for him. Well, Stephen's eye for potential outdoes even my own, and I am hardly surprised he claimed the pick of the litter to foster.)
I take your meaning about Our Lord's loss of patience, though. I wonder: I've been thinking, recently -- prompted by several conversations from a number of different directions -- about the difference between restoring and nurturing a realm into its full flower, and governing it once it has been shepherded past its childhood and through its growing pains. (And we spiral back to parents and children, and what is owed to, and owed from, each to the other.) Easier for me to see that difference, I suppose, what with having been away throughout those years as our realm moved from war to peace and seeing them now as contrast rather than step-by-step progression. It should have been expected, that our fervor should be co-opted by those who know nothing of our ideals and seek only self-aggrandisement, wanting power and prestige (and Our Lord's reflected glory) without ever understanding or honouring the price we paid, in blood and in sacrifice, to buy this world of which we dreamt for so long.
I do not think that price too dear. But I wonder if Our Lord might be having second thoughts about the being, rather than the becoming, He and we have bought for ourselves. Not of its value -- I have travelled far and wide and would not trade this nation built on our culture and our ideals for any dozen others I have visited between -- but after having fought for so long, the tedium of governing may be grinding Him down, now there are no glorious battles for Him to set his wand to.
I will think more about this. And do whatever I might, that He be reminded that we are His loyal hands, in this world and all the worlds thereafter.