The uses of magic for murder, torture, and - worst of all according to her ethical upbringing - the suppression of the will seem inarguably objectionable to her. This comes as something of a surprise. Iezabel had expected a lot of talk about sanctity and transgression, about what realms are exclusive to the gods, and which can be tampered with by mortals- the kind of pretense that those lacking magical gifts have used to persecute practitioners across time and between worlds. The constitution of Harry's world isn't one she can't easily imagine, with Witches and Wizards comprising their own independent society. She thinks of magical law as dictates handed down by the unmagical- and thus often the fearful and resentful.
"That strikes me as a very reasonable definition- if rather narrow. The laws I took issue with back home were ones founded in superstition and misunderstanding." For some crazy reason, people found the idea of magic users reanimating and repurposing the dead to be troubling. "Though I still don't care for this 'Dark' rhetoric. It seems to me that the real concern should be in how a praxis is used. It has to be a question direct harm? Isn't that hair-splitting?"
As quick as that she's no longer on the defensive- quite the opposite, really. She's lost the aura of awe that came along with her first impression, her astonishment at the miraculousness of the broom praxis, but she is still very engaged- eager, even, her pale eyes avid as she launches into what can only be full-on academic debate mode. A special irony, then, that she is accusing Harry of splitting hairs.
"You yourself said- you can commit terrible acts without using what you call a 'Dark' Art. Would an Auror be called upon to counteract any other sorts of abused praxes? What is it that makes a given practitioner 'Dark' enough to demand the intervention of an Auror- the specifically Dark Arts they possess, or a propensity to do harm with any of their Arts?"
The battery of questions would likely go on, but it is interrupted by a sudden coughing fit. Ieza lets go of the broom and buries her face in the crook of her arm, short sharp hacks muffled in black wool. When she lifts her head, she somehow looks both flushed and pale, as if struck by a flash of fever, and her brow is beaded with perspiration.
no subject
The uses of magic for murder, torture, and - worst of all according to her ethical upbringing - the suppression of the will seem inarguably objectionable to her. This comes as something of a surprise. Iezabel had expected a lot of talk about sanctity and transgression, about what realms are exclusive to the gods, and which can be tampered with by mortals- the kind of pretense that those lacking magical gifts have used to persecute practitioners across time and between worlds. The constitution of Harry's world isn't one she can't easily imagine, with Witches and Wizards comprising their own independent society. She thinks of magical law as dictates handed down by the unmagical- and thus often the fearful and resentful.
"That strikes me as a very reasonable definition- if rather narrow. The laws I took issue with back home were ones founded in superstition and misunderstanding." For some crazy reason, people found the idea of magic users reanimating and repurposing the dead to be troubling. "Though I still don't care for this 'Dark' rhetoric. It seems to me that the real concern should be in how a praxis is used. It has to be a question direct harm? Isn't that hair-splitting?"
As quick as that she's no longer on the defensive- quite the opposite, really. She's lost the aura of awe that came along with her first impression, her astonishment at the miraculousness of the broom praxis, but she is still very engaged- eager, even, her pale eyes avid as she launches into what can only be full-on academic debate mode. A special irony, then, that she is accusing Harry of splitting hairs.
"You yourself said- you can commit terrible acts without using what you call a 'Dark' Art. Would an Auror be called upon to counteract any other sorts of abused praxes? What is it that makes a given practitioner 'Dark' enough to demand the intervention of an Auror- the specifically Dark Arts they possess, or a propensity to do harm with any of their Arts?"
The battery of questions would likely go on, but it is interrupted by a sudden coughing fit. Ieza lets go of the broom and buries her face in the crook of her arm, short sharp hacks muffled in black wool. When she lifts her head, she somehow looks both flushed and pale, as if struck by a flash of fever, and her brow is beaded with perspiration.