Harry Potter & Burning Bridges
In class, Harry is taught that American women got their rights peacefully. They protested, boycotted, marched, hunger striked and then, boom -- equal rights.
They tell him that but… Harry knows it is not true. Frankly, he is tired of the narrative being pushed that any equal rights people have now were acquired by entirely non violent means. American women protested, boycotted, marched, hunger striked and then were groped, imprisoned, and force-fed. American women pushed and, unsurprisingly, their oppressors pushed back.
So what did they do? They tied themselves to buildings. They set fires -- their protests turned to riots and you’d hear the men, the politicians, the people withholding their rights from them sigh and say, “See? That’s what happens when you let women have the idea that they could have equal standing among us. They destroy their communities!” As if women not having equal standing among them was the reason they were doing this at all --as if their riots were not directly correlated to their oppression.
When they got rights, the government and the education system cleared the board of this. They tried to convince other minorities that women got the right to vote through pacifism -- so, of course, they could as well.
But Harry, Harry knows it is a lie. He knows it does not stop there. He knows that MLK Jr. and his movement was painted to be entirely non violent as well, as if people of color nationwide were not rioting. As if MLK himself did not say that it would be insulting to condemn these riots without first condemning the circumstances that forced them to happen. “Morally irresponsible,” he called it.
He was a socialist. He was anti-military. He was anti-imperialism. He was radical. And then he was murdered. It is speculated that the US government was involved -- but even if they were not, the US government and the education system then watered down what it was he truly stood for. He was made into “one of the good ones”; a role model for future minorities. Be like MLK Jr. Be peaceful.
And Harry says MLK Jr is a role model -- but when he says it, he has a very different meaning than most people do.
It does not end there. It does not end in America, or in Muggle communities. In Britain, eighty two years ago, Squibs were not allowed to have any position within the Ministry, which allowed laws to be passed without much resistance making Squibs into effectively second class citizens.
So they burned down the Ministry building. When they started to rebuild it, the Squibs destroyed that, too. They set up barricades around every location that the building was planning to be rebuilt at. “Merlin doesn’t want us to be in power? Merlin hates our guts? Fine. Then no one gets power. Then you can go to hell to tell him so.”
Eventually, the Ministry relented and Squibs were allowed in the Ministry and their second class citizenship was revoked, though discrimination against them still stood.
Five years after that, 75% of the major activists of that time go missing.
And Hermione, bless her heart, thinks that Squibs were allowed in the Ministry through peaceful protest, through legislation, through boycotts and hunger strikes. And Hermione… bless her heart, Hermione is a fool. They did not appeal to majorities. They didn’t even try to. They shoved it down their throats and said accept us or, on Merlin’s ass, we will reject you.
It is not her fault. Not completely. It is an understandable, if misguided, coping mechanism. Hogwarts -- and her schooling in British public schools beforehand -- tell her lies and it is only partly her fault for believing them.
Her environment does not prompt a changing point but Harry believes that, at some point… you have to prompt yourself.
Harry has done that. He’s prompted himself, tries his best to prompt others, tries to change and scrape out corruption from the systems -- social and legislational-- with no regard for “non violence” because activists around him are doing enough of that for the lot of them. Violence is necessary in all situations of social reform.
When Harry plans to both help the revelation and himself in light of his Aunt’s howler, he does so not to prove them wrong but to prove them right. To bigots, he is unlovable. He is worthless. And that’s a good thing -- because when you are one of the good ones in the eyes of oppressors, you surely have licked that boot so hard it’s halfway down your throat. You surely are a coward.
And Harry? He has never been a coward.
He first considers using his power to take the magic of every ‘evil’ wizard. You hate non magic users so much? Well, now you are one. How’s that feel? But he knows from the Affair of Honor that when you knock down one evil wizard, two pop up in their place. He banned the word Mudblood and they started using Blue.
If a system bases itself off the assumption that everyone in it will be good, then it is not the people that need to change, but the system. So Harry then considers taking the magic of everyone -- there’s nothing to be bigoted against because there’s not anything. We are all Muggle. We all bleed Blue.
But this, though it may be effective in theory, would be terribly unfair to minorities. They would be punished for their oppression.
So his major plan to use his power to change the magical world is still in flux. For now, he wants to do something, even if its effect is only momentarily, for the good of the people. He wants to build an image for himself as someone big, someone important, a figure that would have disappeared eighty two years ago. He wants to be the head of this revolution because he knows that if normal people go on hunger strikes, they will be let to starve, but if someone thought as important goes on a hunger strike, they will give way to change.
The opportunity for this falls into his lap. He does not go looking for trouble but he does find it.
Blaise and him had been “studying together” in the library (aka Blaise studying and Harry watching him because he has a pretty face and he has free reign to look at it), when Blaise’s head snaps up. He grabs Harry’s arm and says, sounding casual, “I think you should go to the courtyard. Right now.”
“Blaise--”
“Right now. Mione and Ron are waiting for you.”
And Harry sees that look in his eyes and knows that Blaises sees the future and people’s hearts and right now, that fact isn’t irrelevant. Harry throws his bag over his shoulder and takes off with a sprint out of the library, through the castle, until he stumbles into the courtyard, out of breath. While running he fumbles his wand out of his bag.
He understands the situation immediately. Hermione Granger is posed behind Ron Weasley. They are both without their wands. In front of them, a group of four -- no, five -- students stands, heckling them.
Pansy Parkinson stands in the front. She tosses two wands -- presumably Hermione’s and Ron’s -- into the air, like a juggling act. Harry also recognizes Goyle and Crabbe. There are two others he should know but does not.
Harry throws himself between Ron and Pansy, still panting. “Hey,” says Harry between breaths.
“Long time no see, Blue,” says Pansy. “Looking for a round two off asskicking?”
“Harry,” whispers Ron, frantic. “She’s got Mione’s feet stuck to the ground -- and without our wands, we can’t reverse it.” Harry glances at Hermione, grimacing.
“Alright,” he whispers. “Can you move?”
“Yeah. If I move, I’m worried they’ll hurt Mione.”
“I can create a diversion. When you see an opening, take it.”
Ron nods. “Got it, mate.”
Hermione scoffs. “This is a terrible plan.”
Harry says, louder, to Pansy, “Actually, if I remember correctly, it was you who got their ass kicked, right? I mean, I did win.”
“Oh, yes, Harry… but it was a close thing,” says Pansy. “Without that little trump card, you would be less than a threat. You’d be weak.”
“I’m weak, yeah,” says Harry. “But I’m also cool as fuck -- doesn’t that count for something?”
“No,” says Pansy. “I’ve been authorized not to hurt you. So step aside, if you will.”
Authorized not to hurt me? Fuck me. I can’t even write that down right now. “Sorry, Pans. Show off your excellent aiming skills, why don’t you?”
“Okay.”
“Wait, I didn’t--” He throws up a shield as a fireball blasts into it. Keeping the shield up, Harry frowns. “I didn’t mean now.”
“Oh, well. Should’ve been more specific. Remember, fellas,” she says, turning to her group. “His shield does not protect against physical objects. Go wild.”
And that ‘go wild’ is all the warning he gets before five students start firing spells against them -- each in varying amounts of Dark -- and Harry yelps, creating an iron dome around them. It forms with no time to spare. Harry reinforces it with a normal magic shield and lights the area with a lumos. “Sorry, Ron,” he says. “I couldn’t create an opening.”
“It’s fine, mate,” says Ron. Harry turns to Hermione and frowns. Spells can be heard splattering against the dome.
“What’s the spell to undo this?” he asks. Hermione tells it to him and he casts it, but it’s not very powerful. Hermione’s shoes are still a little sticky, but she’s able to step without becoming immobile now. “Any ideas on our next move?”
“We are greatly outnumbered,” hisses Hermione. “We need to wait here until the teachers show up.”
Harry shakes his head. “We have no way of knowing when that’ll happen -- nor if my shield will hold up long enough.”
“So -- are we… just screwed?” asks Ron.
Harry swallows. “No,” he says softly. “I have one idea.”
“It is a stupid one?” questions Hermione.
“Yeah. But it’s all we got. Ron, try casting a spell with my wand. A shield.”
“Um… why?”
“Part of my stupid plan. Try it, will you?”
Ron takes Harry’s wand and casts a shield charm. It is almost transparent. Harry curses. “Mione, try it.”
Hermione looks at him questioningly but takes the wand. Her shield is stronger, brighter, and holds up when Harry presses his hand against it. “Harry, tell us the plan.”
“It’s gonna stop them from casting spells at us,” says Harry. “Probably forever.”
Ron’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean--”
“It’s quite… radical, Mione,” says Harry, not even looking at Ron. “They’re going to hate us -- and people that sympathize with them, oh, they’ll hate us, too. People have never appreciated my intolerance of intolerance. But, right now, it is them or us. So tell me, Mione. Who’s it going to be?” We’re going to shove it down their throats. We will not pander. The sycophancy in you will die here, if you let it.
We are creating a divide with this.
Do you think these people can learn? Do you think they even want to?
Hermione glowers. “Why are you testing my beliefs right now? Do you really think that’s appropriate?”
“I’m not testing your beliefs,” says Harry. “The circumstance is. Reality is.” Another dud against the shield. “I need an answer.”
Hermione lets out a sad chuckle, rubbing her hands down her face. “Yeah,” she says at last. “Yeah, let’s do your radical ass plan. Alright.”
“Okay. Here’s the deal; they, for whatever reason, don’t want to attack me. My personal theory is that they’re afraid I’ll steal their magic if provoked. Whatever the reason, we can use it to our advantage. If we all go off in different directions, you’ll both get attacks sent in your direction. They’ll assume that we’re running so we can all escape -- but we’re not. I’m gonna steal their magic. Any questions?”
“One,” says Ron. “You’re gonna give your wand to Hermione, so she can protect herself, right?”
“Right.”
“So… what about me?”
Harry sighs. “You’ll be defenseless. You’ll have to run and take every hit they throw at you.”
Ron goes silent. He gulps then laughs. “Alright,” he says. “I’m a Gryffindor for a reason. Alright. Let’s fucking do this.”
“Pomfrey’s a great Healer,” says Harry. “If it’s any consolation. Okay -- on the count of three, I’ll drop the shield, send the iron dome flying straight up in the air, toss Hermione the wand, yell scatter, and then we run in different directions. Ron, you take the back, Hermione, the front, since you’ll have some sort of protection. Everything clear? We good on that?” They both nod. Harry gets into a crouching position. “Alright. Yeah. Let’s fucking do this.
“One, two, three!” He drops the shield, sends the dome flying, tosses the wand to Hermione and bolts. He hears Ron cry out a few seconds later and hears spells bounce off Hermione's shields.
Harry forces himself to ignore them. He stares down at his hands, taking a deep breath in.
I have to do it. I have to be able to do it. If I do not, Ron’s fucked. There is no room left for failure.
Harry holds his hands together like he is holding a ball and squeezes it, imagining the magic of everyone except Ron and Hermione worried he will have a repeat of last time where he took everyone in the courtyard’s, feeling the instinctive urge (like Salazer Slytherin and his snake shit; a skill that is a part of him brought to like) consume him.
If I fail, Ron’s fucked.
I can not fail.
Magic swarms into his palms and he grins, shouting, “Yes!”
Pansy shouts, realizing what’s happening, “Get him!” Apparently, the order not to harm him is only followed to a point.
He is hit by spells, but they are weakened, and getting weaker by the moment, by the summoning of magic into his hands.
Then the magic stops coming. In his hands there is a ball of what looks like marble. It feels like glass and it moves, pulsating.
He feels like he could squeeze it once and their magic would return to them. He knows in the way he knew if he’d put his hands together, he’d get their magic.
It would be so easy. And, given that Ron and Hermione are probably at a safe distance by now, it would have no immediate consequences.
It would be the tolerant thing to do.
But that’s the thing.
Harry Potter has never been tolerant.
He hurls the ball onto the ground and it shatters, a sliver of it slicing his face, missing his eye by inches.
Then it disintegrates and the dust is lost in the wind.
After a moment, he hears screaming. Distress. This time, it’s not from the wrong side.