The Mining of the Spirit (Auguste)

[Deleted]

February 22, 2025

It was a Hogsmeade weekend for the students, though Clarence had also gone into the village that sat just outside of the castle along with them. Two of the Hogwarts students were apparently having an engagement party at one of the shops, the tearoom called Madam Puddifoot's, and it looked as though many of their peers had accepted the invitation and come dressed for the occasion.

As for himself, Clarence had respectfully declined the offer. Excusing the pun around their choice of venue, the event really wasn't his cup of tea. While he understood that some of the families in Britain had some very antiquated ideas to do with blood purity and had been raised that way, contrary to how things typically were back in America, he wasn't exactly interested in attending.

Instead, he went into the Three Broomsticks, pleased to see that it was less crowded than it usually was, although he had not been back since the dragon attack. He found himself a table without any difficulty, picking up the copy of the Daily Prophet that some previous patron must have left there.

As he began to skim through the newspaper for himself, Clarence came across a photograph of a musician that had been mentioned in an article: Auguste Courtemanche. He hadn't heard of him before, although that wasn't exactly surprising; the professor was years older than many of his colleagues at Hogwarts and far removed from the music that some of them—and the students—likely listened to. Besides, the newspaper mentioned that Auguste Courtemanche was only twenty-three and French. It was understandable that his music had not made it to Ilvermorny's—and now Hogwarts'—Professor of Native American Magic.

Hearing footsteps moving past his table, Clarence glanced up from the newspaper. The young man walking past him was the very same one as in the newspaper; he was certain of it. He watched him for a moment with interest, surprised by the coincidence more than anything else.

@auguste

[Deleted]

Gus loved coming to Hogsmeade. Today was just like other days with a minor difference, his usually place was stocked and not with the usual crowd. Normally the tearoom would be filled with silly young couples that were supposed to like each other more than him. Today he'd taken one look through the window and instantly walked the other way. It looked like a party and not some speed dating event (not that such a thing would have been much better). Gus tended to attract attention to himself but he usually came around Hogsmeade for some relaxation, which could be difficult when one was constantly swarmed by fans.

He had sighed and made his way towards the three broomsticks, figuring he liked the quality there better than the Hogs Head, although privacy there was quite good. Gus hummed softly to himself as he walked through the village. He could feel the stares drilling into the back of his head as the whispers soon followed to question his identity. Gus usually loved the fame and the attention but every once in a while he missed the obscurity where he could simply be normal. He took a deep breath as he thought back on the old life he'd led, before touring and fame had gotten the main stage. Life had been simple.

Yet life had also held a fair share of pain. To think of music without fame was to think of moments with his mother and the knife to the heart those memories brought him. He could physically feel the ghostly dagger of her death twisting around in his insides. He pressed his hand to his chest as if to close a wound that only existed in his mind as he bit through the physical pain that he felt. Still too real. There would never be a moment of peace, would there?

Finally he arrived at the inn of good repute and made his way in. The whispers were around and as he made way towards a free table he noticed an older man that had that glimmer of recognition in his eyes, without the adoration of a fan. Gus knew that look but saw no judgement beyond it. His eyes glanced over the paper and then remembered the article he'd done a short while back. That made sense. He continued for a few paces before he paused, figuring company of the right sorts would possibly keep unwanted company away for the most part. He walked a few steps backwards until he was at the table of the Judgeless Man.

"I'm sorry Sir." He said respectfully, something that was somewhat unusual for him. "Do you mind if I sit with you? I don't particularly feel like sitting alone today, if I have your permission to join you." Normally he wasn't the type to respect authority but there was something about this man that he couldn't place. Wisdom? It wasn't impossible with the fact the man looked old. Maybe it was just that the memory of his mother was still burning in the back of his mind. He never really liked spending time alone with her memories. While partly good it always hurt and well, he didn't have apples. Apples just made everything better.

@clarence

[Deleted]

February 22, 2025

The musician featured in the Daily Prophet, Auguste, approached him, and Clarence closed the newspaper and set it down upon the table as the much younger man neared him. He didn't want to come across as rude or disinterested by still having the paper in front of his face, and the musician spoke to him shortly thereafter.

He apologized for intruding, but he asked if he could sit with him. "I don't particularly feel like sitting alone today, if I have your permission to join you," he said. Auguste was certainly more respectful than the the genre of his music might have made him seem, Clarence thought, and he was pleased to see that.

"Of course," Clarence answered him with a nod. There were tables available, but he didn't mind sharing if the young man felt like doing so. It must have been strange for him to be famous, Clarence guessed, and he also imagined that he came across as an ideal person to sit with if he wasn't looking to be bothered by anyone. What would a seventy-eight-year-old man want with some French rocker who could have been his grandson? "I don't mind."

@auguste

[Deleted]

It wasn't fully in the nature of Gus to be respectful or disrespectful to anybody. It was totally in his nature to do whatever he pleased to subvert or meet expectations as he saw fit. In a sense of the word, he was a loose canon that seemed impossible to secure. There were a few types of people that mostly managed to keep him in check. His father, despite everything that had happened between him and his mother he tended to listen to the man, a little tiny bit. People with the same type of energy as his father usually also got some lack. His closest friends such as Sienna, the ones he truly deeply had bonded with. His regular friends did not receive any special treatment as they had not yet earned it in his eyes. His sister and other woman like her. They were simply too sweet and calm for him to not just feel protective. His brother usually got twice the mess but he did ensure not to push too far. He cared about his brother too.

Then there were people that simply projected calm, authority or something stern that was not by definition in a 'better than thou' sense. Those people Gus instantly respected. His manager was a calm and easygoing man that knew perfectly what he was doing. He respected Gus despite his whirlwind ways and in return, Gus always respected him and tried his best to make the mans life as easy as was in his nature. While this man had a different kind of attitude something in Gus must have hoped he was the kind of person able to look past the persona he wore like a second skin. To see not just the star but the boy behind it.

Gus smiled in a slight sense of relief as he sat down. "Thanks." He said before motioning to the paper. "Was the article any good?" He asked with genuine interest. He'd noticed in the past that older people were far less likely to sugarcoat things or lie about their opinion just to keep from insulting him because he happened to be famous. He enjoyed his critique as uncensored as possible and any insults were an added bonus as long as they were not brought too rudely. Clever insults mostly made him pretty happy. It made him aware of any flaws he needed to work on or at the very least they kept him humble. He didn't want the fame to get to his head.

@clarence

[Deleted]

February 22, 2025

"Thanks," the young man said to him, smiling as he sat down. "Was the article any good?" He then motioned to the newspaper that still sat in front of Clarence. He must have realized that he had just been reading about him, Clarence acknowledged. The piece was about as exciting to the older man as anything else that was to be found in the Daily Prophet, which was to say that it wasn't exactly riveting. Still, it hadn't been so boring that he had stopped reading it, nor did it paint an unflattering picture of the musician with whom he now sat.

"It wasn't bad, no," Clarence answered sincerely. He supposed that it wasn't bad publicity. Though he had never been in that business for himself and had never had a particular interest in celebrities and what the rich and famous were doing solely because of their being famous, he had been around for long enough that he had seen and heard much worse. "You're Auguste, I take it?"

@auguste

[Deleted]

Gus found it outrageously flattering that the man recognised him, regardless of whether or not he'd ever even heard any of his music. Even if the article was to blame, it was a rather large compliment to see it read by his elders rather than only gushing teen girls. The article, he said, was not bad, which Gus found good enough. He was quite aware he couldn't please everybody to begin with and it was nice that it had not painted him or his music in such a horrible light that the man could not even consider a normal conversation. This was nice.

He nodded as the man confirmed that he was indeed the man the article wrote about. "At your service. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" It was his normal way of talking, the flattery. Still he appreciated that the man was kind enough to give him time of day. It was nice to talk to somebody his senior. It reminded him of his dad, which meant he had to contact his old man again to catch up. Somehow, he missed his father terribly in situations like this, even if they didn't quite get along half the time.

@clarence

[Deleted]

February 22, 2025

"At your service," the young man said; he was, in fact, Auguste, the musician in the newspaper. "And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

Auguste's formalities and politeness continued as he spoke. Most of the students that Clarence had taught were fairly respectful young people, save for a few, yet few students spoke with that same sort of formality.

Even for Clarence himself, he wasn't exceedingly formal in the way that perhaps most people would have expected. He preferred not to go by "Professor Corntassel", if he could avoid it. No, he was just "Clarence", even with his students, and he preferred it that way.

"Clarence Corntassel," he answered Auguste, extending his hand to shake Auguste's.

@auguste

[Deleted]

Gus shook the mans hand without question. The combination of his first and last name combined with his appearance was intriguing though. He did not look to be European at all but the name didn't really give Gus too much of a clue without instantly jumping towards presumptions and potentially prejudiced suggestions. He did not want to be rude so he figured commenting wasn't something he ought to do. He would, he decided, ask a few more questions to learn more about this intriguing character seated opposite him. He smiled as his usual drink was provided for him and stirred it thoughtfully for a moment. "What brings you here Clarence, if I might ask?" He asked, hoping he did not seem impolite with his impromptu question.

@clarence

[Deleted]

February 22, 2025

He and Auguste shook hands, though the flow of their conversation was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of Auguste's drink. The young man, though, was the next to speak. "What brings you here Clarence, if I might ask?"

Clarence gathered that Auguste meant Hogsmeade or Scotland rather than the pub in particular, though asking why he was in the pub was also a valid question. Clarence didn't drink alcohol, which, itself, set him apart from the many people in Britain who seemed to treat it as a pastime.

"Well, I'm a professor," Clarence began with a nod. "I teach Native American Magic, and I taught at Ilvermorny for over fifty years. I'm teaching at Hogwarts now," he explained, "until Ilvermorny reopens."

@auguste