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A child was simply a miniature adult.
The belief was held firmly by all members of the Black family, of many families within the magical communities of Great Britain whether they believed in pure-blood supremacy or not, yet among the families more attached to, as it had become known, Muggle loving ways, there came to be this idea that a child existed within an experimental state of being.
Or so that was the way Phineas Nigellus Black understood the theory put forth.
“In reality, it’s an excuse for poor parenting, of allowing their children to run rampant, with absolutely no respect for authority figures,” the headmaster of Hogwarts muttered to nobody in particular. There wasn’t, of course, anybody in his office, yet there were undoubtedly recent events that left him verbalizing his train of thought. “No respect at all.”
The worst part—
“It seems to be bleeding over to our pure-blood children,” the headmaster muttered, letting out a deep breath as nobody was there to see him break the mask expected of every Black family member, a chance to take a breather from being prim and proper.
Having stewed over his thoughts, Black turned to the stairs and started out on his rounds, observing the students and hearing the children mutter about how he hated everyone who wasn ’t in Slytherin, who wasn’t pure-blood. It was a comment which would make his nostrils flare if he were alone, yet he stood his dignity, brushing off the student’s flippant attitudes toward their headmaster.
“Knowing we pure-blood wizards are superior to half-bloods, and Mudblood isn’t hate. It’s reality.”
There were, of course, the things the students thought proved his hatred of the lower classes, such as how Quidditch only ended up banned that year because a pure-blood ended up hurt, that the same consideration wouldn ’t have been given to a student who wasn’t, possibly rhetoric pushed by Madam Kogawa.
“Of course, I wouldn’t have done the same thing, as I wouldn’t have a pure-blood mother breathing down my neck regarding the injury to her child,” Black thought. “Not to mention…”
There were also whispers regarding a lack of discipline of pure-blood students harassing a half-blood and burning their books.
“How is it that I didn’t discipline them? We pure-bloods do not need to embarrass ourselves in such a manner. We’re above such petty nonsense, but I rightfully called them out for embarrassing their headmaster. And you’d think they would have gotten a hint after that Quidditch match not to antagonize their lesser, that the rabbit doesn’t need to outrun the tortoise, but no—they continue with this petty nonsense. Is it no wonder the Mudblood and half-blood don’t respect us for being their betters when it comes to all things magical?”
Thus he wouldn ’t let their words affect him and act in an undignified way, though, in the back of his mind, he didn’t understand why the children weren’t acting like proper miniature adults, his mind blaming the influx of Muggle culture as he stewed over in his mind the lack of respect students had towards their teachers.
“That never happened when I was a student. This is the result of the Muggle lovers insisting we adopt Muggle culture,” Phineas Black thought to himself. “Such filthy ways.”