บท 66: Chapter - 66 : Unveiling Prejudice part - 3
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"Wizards do the same thing, you know," Harry said. "We were the ones who discovered that our magic could be channelled through wands, and what happened? We promptly made new laws so that only wizards were allowed to use them."
"That's terrible! What right do wizards have to dictate what other races should do?"
"Magic is Might," Harry sadly quoted the words that had been engraved on the statue in the Ministry Atrium after the government had fallen under Death Eater control. "And as even muggles have heard, Might is Right."
"Yes, but that's why laws should be brought in to protect the weaker members of society," Hermione argued.
"I agree, but as Professor Footswitch just showed, a lot of wizards aren't happy with the protection laws that have been enforced…" Harry spread his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture.
"You know, I've only been a part of the Wizarding World for less than two days, but I'm already becoming utterly fed up with it," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing. "I can't believe no one is doing anything about the rampant intolerance and injustice!"
With that Hermione marched into the Library, barely even pausing to take in the magnificent sight of thousands of books piled high on towering bookshelves that reached all the way to the ceiling. As Harry watched her head straight for the Muggle Studies section, he realised that this Hermione had lost almost all her respect for authority and was now driven to prove their Defence Professor wrong. Harry was sad to see her lose her wide-eyed excitement over the magical world, but in a way he thought the change was a good thing. Hermione was frighteningly intelligent, but she wouldn't be able to survive in Slytherin House if she accepted everything at face value and believed everything she was told by the Prefects and Professors.
"Right, I'll just be over here," Harry called after her and sank down at one of the tables. He might as well write a letter to Sirius while he was stuck in the Library, he decided, taking out a fresh roll of parchment and his new Augerey feather quill. After admiring the gift for a moment, he smoothed out the parchment and tried to think how to break the news that he was a Slytherin.
Sirius had said he didn't care what House Harry was sorted into, but Harry was still nervous. Maybe not so much about this Sirius' reaction but at the thought of how his godfather would've reacted if he were alive. The old Sirius had always made his loathing of all things green and silver perfectly clear. He'd no doubt be horrified that Harry - the boy he had died protecting – had become one of the so-called slimy back-stabbing gits.
Harry hoped the other wizard would have eventually understood, but he couldn't stop the nagging sense of doubt in the back of his mind. He'd loved Sirius, of course he had, and Sirius had loved him in return. Harry was sure of that, although sometimes he thought that Mrs Weasley may have had a point. Sirius might not have thought Harry was James exactly, but Harry often felt that his godfather had only loved him because of James. Harry had been Sirius' last link to his dead best friend, and Azkaban had left Sirius with such muddled emotions and haunted thoughts that he couldn't quite separate Harry from his father.
The Sirius in this world didn't seem to have that problem. If anything he seemed to find it almost too easy to think of Harry as his own son. He always called him 'Orion' now and spoke of the other Harry Potter as a completely separate person. Harry supposed the difference might be because of the Mind Healers and the four fewer years Sirius had spent in Azkaban. He suspected, though, that mainly Sirius saw him as Orion Black because he'd never seen him as Harry Potter. Harry had always had his glamours up before the blood adoption had changed his features permanently. Sirius had no reason to marvel at how Harry looked just like James or to think of Harry as a replacement for his godson who had died as a child.
Harry would always mourn the loss of his godfather – a damaged man who hadn't deserved the hell he'd been forced to endure – but he knew that man was lost to him, just like all the people Harry had left behind by travelling to this new world. He couldn't keep comparing people with their counterparts, not if he wanted to be happy. He missed his godfather, and the adult Hermione he had known, and the brave Neville who had fought beside Harry in every fight. He knew though that he had to get to know the Sirius, Hermione and Neville and everyone else in this world as separate people.
Harry's dead godfather might have been disappointed by Harry's sorting, but Orion Black's father wouldn't be. Taking a deep breath, Harry dipped the nib of his quill into the inkpot and began to write.
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