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schemingreader (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} schemingreader) wrote,@ 2007-12-14 08:00:00 |
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Ficlet: "A Sweet Year" (Anthony Goldstein, Dumbledore, gen)
Title: A Sweet Year
Author:schemingreader
Rating: G
Characters: Anthony Goldstein (minor canon character) Albus Dumbledore
Author's Note: This was for a multi-fandom project back in September, Daysofawesome. The idea was to write a story about a Jewish character in some fandom for every one of the ten Days of Awe between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. I wrote the draft for this mini-story on the train and then never finished it, because--I'm an observant Jew and I'm really busy during the Days of Awe! Anyway I found it and finished it and hadstasia, rexluscus, and liseuse beta-read.
Anthony Goldstein was not religious. If anyone would have asked him, that's what he would have said.
His grandmother Zelda wanted him to have a bar mitzvah, and she'd written to the Headmaster about it, going over his parents' heads.
"A person has to be pro-active," she said. "Albus has to understand that this is your priority."
Not that his grandmother was on a first-name basis with Professor Dumbledore, of course. At least, she hadn't been until they'd begun owling back and forth about getting him a bar mitzvah tutor a full year before he turned thirteen.
The last thing Anthony wanted was to be conspicuous. There were only two Jewish students at Hogwarts when he started, and the other one, a bloke called Zeller who was in seventh year when Anthony started, had already left school. Anthony was a second year Ravenclaw and very short with spectacles and curly brown hair and was called Goldstein, and just about anyone who looked at him could know that he was Jewish.
What if someone thought he was trying to get special attention or something? That was not done at Hogwarts. He'd seen how Harry Potter, whom he thought was a pleasant and not especially arrogant person, had got shat on for being in the newspaper through no apparent fault of his own. He didn't want people calling him stuck up.
When Terry Boot had asked him, "Why're you meeting with the Headmaster?" he'd lied and said "Dunno, really."
He knew. At least, he suspected--it was those damned owls. He'd seen Bubbe Zelda's Great Horned owl, the one that looked like it had spectacles like hers, flying to the teacher's table during breakfast after it stopped to give him his letter. He thought perhaps she'd forgotten his packages of sweets, but lately he was wondering if the owl had delivered them to the Headmaster instead.
Professor Flitwick escorted him to the office and gave the password, which was "halvah." Aha, so that was where the sweets had gone.
"Your grandmother and I have been corresponding," the headmaster told him. He beamed. "I'm invited to join your family for Rosh HaShanah dinner."
Anthony froze. "My family? You mean, my grandmother invited you to Manchester?"
"Yes, I'm to escort you erev chag," Albus Dumbledore said, twinkling extra for his use of Hebrew. "I learned Hebrew many years ago for my studies, but I've rarely had a chance to speak it. I've been practicing my pronunciation. How is it?"
"I--I don't speak Hebrew," Anthony said. He didn't think Professor Dumbledore would be pleased to know that he couldn't pronounce a proper chet. "That's tonight, though, sir."
"I'll side-long Apparate you and then you can stay for the holiday. You can sit with me in synagogue on the first day. I'm afraid I'll be coming back here for the second day, but your grandmother promises she'll have you back to the dormitory on time. I've never been to synagogue, you know. How do people dress?"
"Er," Anthony said. "In dark suits and ties, mostly. The gabbai wears a hat, but everyone else wears a kippah."
"Are there a lot of witches and wizards in the congregation?"
"No, just my family, and my grandmother's second husband, and Ari Shapiro. Well, and Rachel Steinbaum." He thought for a moment. "Actually, there are a fair number of magical families at Machzikei Hadass. I hadn't thought about it. I never talk about Hogwarts there, you know."
"I remember Mr. Shapiro and Ms. Steinbaum," the headmaster said. "Well. Perhaps you will go back to Ravenclaw Tower and get your things, and then I will meet you in the Main Hall."
"The Main Hall?" Then he would have to explain to everyone who saw him where he was going with Dumbledore. He looked up at the headmaster, whose eyes were kind and understanding. "All right, I won't be long."
Dumbledore looked like a Hasid. He was wearing a dark suit with a long black coat, and he'd tucked his long white hair under his collar, so that only a little showed under his black hat. "Ready?" he said. He stuck his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a handful of sesame candies. "Do you find that sweets help you with Apparition?"
"No, thank you sir," Anthony said as politely as he could. One couldn't forget that Dumbledore was just a bit barmy, or as Bubbe had put it, "ever so slightly meshuggeh." He took the black-clad arm.
They Apparated to the very street in Salford where the schul was, and he walked Dumbledore into his father's place in the front near the bimah. Dumbledore was beaming and nodding to people and saying "Shanah tovah." Perhaps his Hebrew wasn't perfect, but it was recognizable.
For someone who had never been to schul before, the headmaster sang really loud. He smiled at everything he saw in the siddur. Anthony couldn't decide how to react. No one had to know that Dumbledore wasn't Jewish--but if they did, then, so what?
He looked up and saw his grandmother beaming down from the balcony. Rachel Steinbaum, who had apparently just got married, was wearing a hat and a bewildered expression. Her mouth was a round o.
Fortunately the service was quite short. His father, who had arrived late as usual, walked up from the back to collect them. He shook Dumbledore's hand and Dumbledore twinkled at him.
"Thank you for having me to your family's celebration," Professor Dumbledore told Anthony's father. They both nodded and smiled at each other. His Bubbe met them in front of the building. The frames of her eyeglasses were studded with rhinestones and her hat had a small but beautiful red plume.
"Albus, darling," she said, and Dumbledore's face bloomed into a grin.
"You got my present," he said.
"Thank you, it's lovely," and they kissed on both cheeks. Dumbledore took his grandmother's arm and the two old schemers walked ahead of Anthony and his mum and dad. He looked at his mother, who shrugged.
For dinner they had round challah with raisins, soup with lukshen and knaidlach, apples and honey, tsimmes, chicken, kugel--Anthony ate until he was slightly stunned, and watched the most brilliant wizard of his generation become flushed as he drank several glasses of the sweet syrupy kiddush wine.
"Zelda," he said, after they had recited the Grace After Meals and eaten honey cake, "I can't thank you enough."
"Albus," she replied, "Just allowing my grandson to study for his bar mitzvah at Hogwarts is all the thanks I need."
Anthony's mother's mouth was open. Anthony roused himself. It was now or never.
"But I don't want to have--I don't want special privileges, Professor."
"These aren't special privileges," Dumbledore said. "I've learned over the course of my life that everyone doesn't need the same thing."
"But I'm not religious," Anthony said, though he could see it wouldn't help him.
His father shrugged.
Dumbledore stood and shook Anthony's parents' hands and kissed his grandmother again. Zelda turned to Anthony. "You mustn't worry about sticking out. Everyone at Hogwarts has something different about them."
Dumbledore looked down on her the two foot difference in their heights. "Your grandmother is wise." He shook Anthony's hand and Disapparated.
"That was amazing, Ma," Anthony's dad said.
"He has changed a lot since I had him in school," Zelda said thoughtfully. "He used to be very cold toward anyone who wasn't a Pureblood, and never mind having a Jewish surname."
His mother waved her hand in a hushing gesture. "Anthony has to respect his teachers," she said.
"Nonsense," Zelda said, turning to him. "I just want you to know that even an old Pureblood snob like Albus Dumbledore can repent."
"He didn't seem like a snob tonight," Anthony said. He felt defensive of his teacher.
"No, he's changed," Zelda said. "People can change." She patted Anthony's cheek. "Knowledge is the most important thing, dear. He didn't know about us, so he had the same prejudice as everyone else."
Another of his grandmother's lessons, about how being a Ravenclaw and a Jew were compatible. Anthony nodded; she was unstoppable. He let her pour him some tea and put a slice of honeycake in front of him. It was going to be a strange year.
Title: A Sweet Year
Author:
schemingreaderRating: G
Characters: Anthony Goldstein (minor canon character) Albus Dumbledore
Author's Note: This was for a multi-fandom project back in September, Daysofawesome. The idea was to write a story about a Jewish character in some fandom for every one of the ten Days of Awe between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. I wrote the draft for this mini-story on the train and then never finished it, because--I'm an observant Jew and I'm really busy during the Days of Awe! Anyway I found it and finished it and had
stasia, rexluscus, and liseuse beta-read. Anthony Goldstein was not religious. If anyone would have asked him, that's what he would have said.
His grandmother Zelda wanted him to have a bar mitzvah, and she'd written to the Headmaster about it, going over his parents' heads.
"A person has to be pro-active," she said. "Albus has to understand that this is your priority."
Not that his grandmother was on a first-name basis with Professor Dumbledore, of course. At least, she hadn't been until they'd begun owling back and forth about getting him a bar mitzvah tutor a full year before he turned thirteen.
The last thing Anthony wanted was to be conspicuous. There were only two Jewish students at Hogwarts when he started, and the other one, a bloke called Zeller who was in seventh year when Anthony started, had already left school. Anthony was a second year Ravenclaw and very short with spectacles and curly brown hair and was called Goldstein, and just about anyone who looked at him could know that he was Jewish.
What if someone thought he was trying to get special attention or something? That was not done at Hogwarts. He'd seen how Harry Potter, whom he thought was a pleasant and not especially arrogant person, had got shat on for being in the newspaper through no apparent fault of his own. He didn't want people calling him stuck up.
When Terry Boot had asked him, "Why're you meeting with the Headmaster?" he'd lied and said "Dunno, really."
He knew. At least, he suspected--it was those damned owls. He'd seen Bubbe Zelda's Great Horned owl, the one that looked like it had spectacles like hers, flying to the teacher's table during breakfast after it stopped to give him his letter. He thought perhaps she'd forgotten his packages of sweets, but lately he was wondering if the owl had delivered them to the Headmaster instead.
Professor Flitwick escorted him to the office and gave the password, which was "halvah." Aha, so that was where the sweets had gone.
"Your grandmother and I have been corresponding," the headmaster told him. He beamed. "I'm invited to join your family for Rosh HaShanah dinner."
Anthony froze. "My family? You mean, my grandmother invited you to Manchester?"
"Yes, I'm to escort you erev chag," Albus Dumbledore said, twinkling extra for his use of Hebrew. "I learned Hebrew many years ago for my studies, but I've rarely had a chance to speak it. I've been practicing my pronunciation. How is it?"
"I--I don't speak Hebrew," Anthony said. He didn't think Professor Dumbledore would be pleased to know that he couldn't pronounce a proper chet. "That's tonight, though, sir."
"I'll side-long Apparate you and then you can stay for the holiday. You can sit with me in synagogue on the first day. I'm afraid I'll be coming back here for the second day, but your grandmother promises she'll have you back to the dormitory on time. I've never been to synagogue, you know. How do people dress?"
"Er," Anthony said. "In dark suits and ties, mostly. The gabbai wears a hat, but everyone else wears a kippah."
"Are there a lot of witches and wizards in the congregation?"
"No, just my family, and my grandmother's second husband, and Ari Shapiro. Well, and Rachel Steinbaum." He thought for a moment. "Actually, there are a fair number of magical families at Machzikei Hadass. I hadn't thought about it. I never talk about Hogwarts there, you know."
"I remember Mr. Shapiro and Ms. Steinbaum," the headmaster said. "Well. Perhaps you will go back to Ravenclaw Tower and get your things, and then I will meet you in the Main Hall."
"The Main Hall?" Then he would have to explain to everyone who saw him where he was going with Dumbledore. He looked up at the headmaster, whose eyes were kind and understanding. "All right, I won't be long."
Dumbledore looked like a Hasid. He was wearing a dark suit with a long black coat, and he'd tucked his long white hair under his collar, so that only a little showed under his black hat. "Ready?" he said. He stuck his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a handful of sesame candies. "Do you find that sweets help you with Apparition?"
"No, thank you sir," Anthony said as politely as he could. One couldn't forget that Dumbledore was just a bit barmy, or as Bubbe had put it, "ever so slightly meshuggeh." He took the black-clad arm.
They Apparated to the very street in Salford where the schul was, and he walked Dumbledore into his father's place in the front near the bimah. Dumbledore was beaming and nodding to people and saying "Shanah tovah." Perhaps his Hebrew wasn't perfect, but it was recognizable.
For someone who had never been to schul before, the headmaster sang really loud. He smiled at everything he saw in the siddur. Anthony couldn't decide how to react. No one had to know that Dumbledore wasn't Jewish--but if they did, then, so what?
He looked up and saw his grandmother beaming down from the balcony. Rachel Steinbaum, who had apparently just got married, was wearing a hat and a bewildered expression. Her mouth was a round o.
Fortunately the service was quite short. His father, who had arrived late as usual, walked up from the back to collect them. He shook Dumbledore's hand and Dumbledore twinkled at him.
"Thank you for having me to your family's celebration," Professor Dumbledore told Anthony's father. They both nodded and smiled at each other. His Bubbe met them in front of the building. The frames of her eyeglasses were studded with rhinestones and her hat had a small but beautiful red plume.
"Albus, darling," she said, and Dumbledore's face bloomed into a grin.
"You got my present," he said.
"Thank you, it's lovely," and they kissed on both cheeks. Dumbledore took his grandmother's arm and the two old schemers walked ahead of Anthony and his mum and dad. He looked at his mother, who shrugged.
For dinner they had round challah with raisins, soup with lukshen and knaidlach, apples and honey, tsimmes, chicken, kugel--Anthony ate until he was slightly stunned, and watched the most brilliant wizard of his generation become flushed as he drank several glasses of the sweet syrupy kiddush wine.
"Zelda," he said, after they had recited the Grace After Meals and eaten honey cake, "I can't thank you enough."
"Albus," she replied, "Just allowing my grandson to study for his bar mitzvah at Hogwarts is all the thanks I need."
Anthony's mother's mouth was open. Anthony roused himself. It was now or never.
"But I don't want to have--I don't want special privileges, Professor."
"These aren't special privileges," Dumbledore said. "I've learned over the course of my life that everyone doesn't need the same thing."
"But I'm not religious," Anthony said, though he could see it wouldn't help him.
His father shrugged.
Dumbledore stood and shook Anthony's parents' hands and kissed his grandmother again. Zelda turned to Anthony. "You mustn't worry about sticking out. Everyone at Hogwarts has something different about them."
Dumbledore looked down on her the two foot difference in their heights. "Your grandmother is wise." He shook Anthony's hand and Disapparated.
"That was amazing, Ma," Anthony's dad said.
"He has changed a lot since I had him in school," Zelda said thoughtfully. "He used to be very cold toward anyone who wasn't a Pureblood, and never mind having a Jewish surname."
His mother waved her hand in a hushing gesture. "Anthony has to respect his teachers," she said.
"Nonsense," Zelda said, turning to him. "I just want you to know that even an old Pureblood snob like Albus Dumbledore can repent."
"He didn't seem like a snob tonight," Anthony said. He felt defensive of his teacher.
"No, he's changed," Zelda said. "People can change." She patted Anthony's cheek. "Knowledge is the most important thing, dear. He didn't know about us, so he had the same prejudice as everyone else."
Another of his grandmother's lessons, about how being a Ravenclaw and a Jew were compatible. Anthony nodded; she was unstoppable. He let her pour him some tea and put a slice of honeycake in front of him. It was going to be a strange year.
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