#tgig

“Are you questioning the transcendent genius of the Carrows?” asked Theodore snidely.

“Mm, heaven forbid… Seriously though, I’m running out of ways to say ‘muggles are scum’ and ‘mudbloods are evil and got their magic by stealing it from wizards’; how does she expect two rolls of parchment on this?”

“Quantity is quality - you’re in OWL year: you need to meet a rigorous standard of magical scholarship. Shall I fetch you a thesaurus?”

“That won’t change the fact that there’s nothing else to say; there’s nothing backing this up. You can write essays on Transfiguration or Potions because there’s actual magical theory involved. But with this? Are we supposed to just not notice that they casually overrode the laws of magic? You can’t steal someone’s ability to do magic. You can enchant things to have magical properties, but making something be an independent source? That’s impossible!”

Nott’s eyes were on his hourglass. He didn’t answer.

“Right?”

He shrugged. “As far as I know.”

She continued. “What’s the mechanism even supposed to be? How can you ‘steal someone’s magic’ without using magic?”

“Well, that’s why the Ministry is conducting investigations, isn’t it?”

“You do not believe this bullshit.”

He regarded her coolly.

“No. But they had to give the muggle-lovers and fence sitters some kind of pretext.”

“It contradicts itself.” She turned to one of the pamphlets she was working from. “‘… Magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force.’ – What about Squibs? Are they going to prove that all, like, sixteen great-grandparents of every Muggle-born didn’t have a single wizard ancestor between them?”

She threw down the pamphlet.

“We already have an answer for Muggle-borns: Squibs fucking Muggles. Why insult our intelligence by pretending otherwise?”

He made a face. “Thanks for that charming image. Isn’t that bad enough? Who wants Muggle-Squib filth permeating Wizard society?”

“No one is making us marry them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you go to the Yule Ball with Oliver Rivers?”

She blushed. “I thought he was a half-blood; I didn’t know his mother was a Mudblood, I just knew she went to Hogwarts. Anyway, I was in second year; I would’ve gone with the Giant Squid to get in. We didn’t keep dating.”

“Well, you can see how contamination has the opportunity to creep in if you let Mudbloods in to Hogwarts.”

The last grains of sand fell from the upper level; Nott reached over and stirred the potion with easy precision, then reset the glass. Astoria hesitated, then plunged ahead.

“His sister was in some of my classes; she was a good student. Past a point, if they can do the magic, who cares?”

“If it leads to the degradation of wizardry, then, I do,” he said shortly.

“But, does it though?”

He stared at her. “You need to be careful. This kind of thinking could get you in a lot of trouble.” His voice was low, cold.

“I am being careful: no one can hear me but you, and you’re not going to report me.”

But she could feel his anger, and for a moment she was afraid she’d gone too far. Their eyes met.

“Never,” he said. “I just can’t believe you suddenly need someone to explain to you that wizards are superior to Muggles – isn’t it self-evident that magic is the best thing in existence?”

“Of course; that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just asking, is magic actually being harmed? Interbreeding has been common for ages, but we’re not dying out. Muggleborns are way more common than Squibs. And our magic isn’t getting weaker, either.”

“Not individuals, but the overall state of wizardry is pitiful. ‘Muggle-born’ tolerance is tolerance for ignorance and mediocrity, and it’s infected every level of our society. Hogwarts, the Ministry – they’ve been bending over backwards trying to pretend that everyone is ‘equal’-” He gave a derisive, humourless laugh. “That’s never been true and it never will be. Some people are just better. But they’ve built an entire system around Muggle bullshit designed to cater to the lowest common denominator – essays, exams; they just teach people how to waffle and procrastinate, not about real magic. They stifle creativity. They hold us back. And then they worship students like that idiot Mudblood Granger, who doesn’t have a single idea in her head that she didn’t read in a book first, and has a seizure at the idea of doing anything without permission; as if the highest level of magical achievement is pedantic fucking paperwork and rote learning. That’s how innovation dies - how magic dies. You think the Dark Lord became the greatest wizard of our time by asking permission? By sticking to the curriculum?”

Astoria forced a smile. “Oh, yeah. That’s definitely how he did it.”

She could feel his gaze boring into her.

“I… yeah. I never thought about it that way. You’re right.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes.

He remembered his potion just in time. Astoria pretended to tweak her essay. There was a sick knot in her chest. “Maybe that’s what I should do; just write ‘As a Pureblood, I’m morally opposed to finishing my homework, because essays are a Muggle invention.’”