The Diary (pottermort)

chapter forty-four

Septimus, Minerva, and Myrtle come over for one last summer party. Minerva wears an overly formal dress robe and is immediately mocked for it. "Oh my God," giggled Myrtle, "Pureblood culture is so shit at fashion."

Minerva doesn't curse, but Tom could tell it was a close thing.

"Don't look at me like that, Minnie," says Myrtle. She holds up a pack of juice boxes (brought in her backpack full of Muggle appurtenances because, "Pureblood parties always fail to deliver on the party part") and grins when Fleamont accepts one with a giggle. "We both know fancy rich people outfits are made to be pretentious. Their entire thing is ooh, look at me, I'm so much better than you. And then they shit on Muggles and Muggleborns because they refuse to bow to that ideology--"

"You do know that you're in a room full of Purebloods and Half-bloods, right?" interrupted Tom. He refuses Myrtle's juice, because grapefruit is terrible, really, and instead fills his cup with water.

Myrtle scoffs. "None of you are Pureblood surpremists, though, that's the kicker."

"In fact, I'm violently anti Pureblood surpremism," said Septimus. "The wizarding world, as is, is nothing less than doomed to fail if we follow their burning ship to sea. Inbreeding is rampant and it is done so to protect the purity of magic-- and I wish to argue that the purity of magic is not worth protecting, especially since some of the greatest wizards and witches of history were Half-bloods and Muggleborns. The oppression within the wizarding community serves no purpose that cannot be dismantled within two minutes, so the fact that many within the community wish to uphold it even after the fact is likely done because of not a strong love for magic, but because of a violent hatred for Muggles. Violence cannot be fought against with methods that Minnie here suggests, no matter what she protests--"

"Well," said Tom, more interested in seeing Septimus passionate than defending the same type of people who snickered at him first year. He will not lick the boot that steps on his face. (If this is what Purebloods are like, then there is no way they can be superior.) "Why wouldn't non-violent protests and things of the like work?"

Myrtle makes a bet with Fleamont-- "How long do you think he go on for," "Ten minutes, top," "No way," "Bet"-- and Minerva rolls he'd eyes with a fond smile.

"It is simple," says Septimus. "Imagine you're ambushed in the hall; hexed and jinxed and all the rest. You ask very politely for them to stop. Does it accomplish such?"

Myrtle jumps in with, "I can say from personal experience, no."

"But that's not an accurate metaphor," argues Minvera. "You get ambushed in the hallway and afterwards join the school system to enforce anti-bullying policies. That is an accurate metaphor."

"But, with that situation... it doesn't work like that, either," says Fleamont. He flushes when all heads turn to him. "I-- I mean, even with people in the school system being individually anti-bullying, the system in place works against them. The-- the system punishes self defense, refuse to adknowledge subtle proof as proof, and continues to perpetrate a culture that endorses harassment."

"Right," agrees Tom, adding onto his boyfriend's point. "And it's a similar situation with Muggleborn oppression; no matter how many of them advocate for change, no matter how many join the government that opposes them, the system in place will still continue to fuck them over--"

"And as such the system must be dismantled with violence," says Septimus.

"You've said a lot about the school system and why violence might be an appropriate reaction to harassment in the moment, if not the only effective reaction, but it will not work like that in a larger scale," said Minerva.

"And why not? Someone who believes in systematic violence will not believe in systematic change-- a fire this large refuses to react to water. Violence is the only language they recognize and so it must be the only people speak if they yearn for even a morsel of acceptance."

Myrtle hands Fleamont two Galloens. "Okay, whatever, go off king, can we move on?"

"Yeah," says Fleamont. "I agree with what you're saying, even if Minnie believes she's Gandhi, but I wanted to play Quidditch with you guys--"

"Quidditch?" repeats Septimus with a glint in his eyes that suddenly makes Tom very glad he won't be playing against him.

"It'll be a two v two," said Myrtle. "One Keeper, one Chaser, and anyone can catch the Snitch." She then mutters, under her breath, "Of course you have a private Quidditch pitch. Rich people shit."

"But I want Tom to play," whines Fleamont, looking at Tom with dopey eyes. "I'll sit out so the teams will be even--"

"Oh, no," said Tom. "I don't play."

"Pleasee?"

"Flea I love you but there are lines you cannot make me cross."

"Are you sure though."

Tom looks at him and has the urgue to say No. I will do whatever brings you joy. "I'm sure, dear. Have fun without me."

Fleamont melts under his endearance and relents. The teams are Septimus with Myrtle and Fleamont with Minerva. Fleamont catches the Snitch, 180-50.

Fleamont flings himself into Tom's arms afterwards, flushed with sweat and grinning. "I did it, Tom! I did it!"

Tom rolls his eyes and even though he would deny it was done with affection he knows it would be futile. "I'm very proud," he says, and he might mean it. He adds quieter, "Will you be okay with them, when I'm away during school?"

Fleamont looks back at the people he considers his friends. He has aided their take down of Albus Dumbledore because Tom told him it was best to and though that is great, and all, Fleamont holes their association runs deeper than that. Even so, they are nothing compared to Tom. But they will be enough. For some time. "Yeah," he says, holding Tom tighter. "I'll be okay."