‘Albus, we really have to get out more. We are stuck here in the Castle most of the year and I am beginning to feel quite cut off from the rest of the world, the Muggle world especially. Do you know how many times this week I overheard conversations that went totally over my head? Too many times, Albus, too many times. What good are we as educators and mentors, if we have no idea what is going on in their minds and their worlds. Apparently it is Pride month next month and there are parades all over the world.
It took me some very delicate questioning of some of the students in my house, to figure out what this is all about and I must say, Albus, that I am appalled that Hogwarts is behind the curve on this.
As of the first of June I want all the flags in the Great Hall to be replaced with Pride flags for the entire month of June and on the last day of that month, we will host the first Hogwarts Pride Ball and I want to go to one of the Pride Parades with all the teachers and if students wish to go, we can organise permission slips for a ‘school tour’, as not all parents will be progressive enough to sign a permission slip for going to a Pride parade. We can book the Hogwarts Express and go to the London one, if there is enough interest.’
Dumbledore waited bemused for his Deputy to run out of steam. He had never seen her so animated about anything.
‘That sounds like a marvellous idea, Minerva, and I am presuming that Hogwarts Pride has nothing to do with our usual House Pride and would go against what our founders stood for?’
‘If rumours are to be believed, I would think that Rowena and Helga would have been very much in favour of such a Hogwarts celebration, but then again they were always way ahead of their time.’
‘Yes, Hogwarts owes a debt of gratitude to those two women and to the majority of the women who served this institution, present company included.’
He poured Professor McGonagall and himself a glass of Elderberry wine and made himself comfortable.
‘Now tell me more about Pride month and what I can do and what type of flags we need to display.’
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
And so Hogwarts jumped from 19th Century wizarding traditions feet first in to 21st Century social justice.
‘Blimey,’ Seamus remarked, ‘we can’t have ballpoint pens and cell phones, but we can attend a Pride Parade in Muggle London?’
‘Technically, London is just London, there isn’t a Muggle London and a Wizard London,’ Hermione remarked, ‘But I take your point.’
‘I wonder why the sudden change in attitude?’ Dean mused, earning him a punch to the arm by Hermione and a snigger from Seamus.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Word of Pride spread through the Castle faster than fiendfyre. The whole school was buzzing and it became apparent almost immediately that the Hogwarts Express would most definitely be required. It also became clear that an age limit would have to be set for Parade attendance, much to the dismay of students attending Year 3 and below. Word had gotten out to the parents and the notion of such extracurricular activities in the nation’s capital had not been appreciated by some parents. Other parents simply did not like the idea of younger students being led loose in London.
However, despite some of the less positive reactions from the parents, the news of Hogwarts celebrating Pride had one unexpected consequence.
When the notice went up looking for students to help organise Pride events throughout the month of June, students from all four houses signed up and when the first planning meeting was held in the Great Hall, the students moved the house tables aside and sat on the floor on cushions conjured by some of the older students, all thought of houses forgotten in the celebration of their school acknowledging who they were.
One student shyly produced a They/Them button and displayed it on their robes. Not long after others produced pronoun buttons, while some admitted they were still trying out pronouns and others confessing they were just there to help out.
Rainbow coloured ribbons and hairbands appeared, as well as rainbow coloured friendship bracelets. One student pulled up his pantlegs, showing that he was wearing rainbow striped socks.
When McGonagall called the meeting to order, her first order of business was changing the house flags, that hung from the ceiling, to Pride flags.
‘Do you want to keep the house symbols on them, or will we just keep them all the same?’ she asked, looking around the group of students for their input.
‘I think Pride is meant to promote diversity, inclusion and belonging, Professor, so maybe we should use the same flags above all house tables,’ Blaise Zabini said. They had transfigured their robes to resemble the rainbow flag and were proudly displaying a They/Them badge.
‘Very well, Mr Zabini,’ she said and then paused, looking at their badge.
‘Forgive me… I am so used to calling my students Mr and Ms, what should I call you?’ she asked slightly flustered.
‘Blaise, I suppose,’ they answered, surprised to be asked, ‘or in the context of Pupil/Teacher, probably Mx.’
‘Thank you, Mx Zabini,’ Professor McGonagall answered, sounding relieved to have cleared this up.
‘As you by now will have heard, anyone from Year 4 upwards is allowed to sign up to attend the Pride Parade in London, which takes place on the last Saturday of June, we will however have activities in the school throughout the month for students of all ages and the Pride Ball on the 30th is open to all students, though we may suggest an earlier curfew for the younger students.’
There were mixed reactions to the curfew suggestion, but overall her statement had been received well. When they started to brainstorm ideas for Pride events, the list became very long, very fast.
There were suggestions for a range of different competitions, suggestions for Pride themed desserts for the month of June, and a pre-Ball cocktail hour (or mock-tail hour at least).
‘Professor,’ an unexpected raspy voice asked, ‘May I ask a question?’
No-one had noticed the old caretaker and his cat entering the hall, while they were busy bouncing ideas off each other.
Professor McGonagall was the first to recover from her surprise.
‘Yes, Mr Filch, it is still Mr is it?’ she said quickly, with a kind smile.
Mr Filch smiled in return.
‘Indeed, it is still Mr, but thanks for asking.’
‘Well, Mr Filch, what is your question?’
‘Professor’, Filch said shyly, ‘Are the events only open to students or can staff and auxiliary personnel also take part, and would it be too much to suggest to add a Drag Queen Pageant to the list of events?’
This suggestion was met by cheers from all the students and a smile from Professor McGonagall.
‘Why that would be a fabulous idea’, she said. ‘Maybe we could have that during the Pride Ball, and absolutely, all events and competitions will be open to all students, teachers and auxiliary personnel, Mr. Filch. Can I leave you and Mx Zabini in charge of organising the Drag Queen Pageant?’
This was not what Blaise had been expecting, nor by the looks of it, was it what Mr Filch had been expecting. Blaise swallowed twice, before nodding their assent. They were still trying to get their head around Mr Filch as Drag Queen. Who could have ever imagined that. Even if they had their misgivings about working with the caretaker, they did not have the heart to say No. They did not think they had ever seen Mr Filch look happy before.
Maybe promoting diversity, inclusion and belonging was far more powerful than magic.
And then another thought came to them. What other staff members would sign up? They imagined Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape in drag and smiled. If nothing else, it made for a great image to chase even the most stubborn boggart away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hogwarts Pride month was a great success.
The piece the resistance was Mr Filch, or to put it more accurately, the wonderful Ursula Major, who won the Drag Queen Pageant at the Pride Ball, with a beautiful rendition of ‘I’m Coming Out’, which instantly became the unofficial Pride song for the evening. Ursula’s presence on stage in a knife pleated gold lame evening gown, long golden elbow length gloves, a wonderful curly black wig with bangs, long curly eyelashes, and staggeringly high heels, would have been enough to tip the judges’ scales, but the emotional performance of this iconic song in a beautiful melodic voice no-one could ever have imagined coming from the caretaker, left the school in no doubt that there was, as the song suggested, so much more to Mr Filch than they had ever suspected.