Of Monsters, Of Men

Chapter 21

November 29, 1941

Harry thinned his lips at the newspaper in front of him, slumping down further onto his bed. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so they had returned to their dorm after breakfast to rest a little while before heading out.

The Daily Prophet reported that anti-centaur laws were being proposed and would enter Wizengamot soon. He couldn't help the twinge of guilt that echoed through him. After all, he was upholding the government's coverup (even if it was unwilling) which directly led to the decrease in quality of life for centaurs and renewed discriminatory attitudes towards magical creatures.

"These laws aren't a good idea," Harry said.

Tom raised an eyebrow as he slowly set down his mug. It clacked slightly against the table.

Shit.

For a moment, Harry froze, his stomach dropping as he realised he'd made Tom angry. He kept his gaze away from Tom's face, chewing his lip as Tom's eyebrows furrowed and lips thinned.

"They are not," said Tom stiffly. "They are a perfectly adequate solution to the problem."

"It was a freak accident," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his hand around. "That's not a reason to relocate the entire centaur population in the Forbidden Forest to the Forest of Dean."

In moments like these, Harry wished that Tom would just remember what had really happened that fateful afternoon. After all, it was Professor Yates, not a random centaur. But alas, the government had shut his mouth with a neat secrecy contract and a giant cover up—a cover up, he reflected, which was being used to push anti-creature legislation.

"No, the freak accident proved that it was a measure Wizengamot should have taken years ago," Tom said, scowling. He crossed his arms.

Well, arguing with Tom wouldn't get him anywhere, much less when Tom had the truth wiped from his mind.

Harry harrumphed. "You're just pissed that I'm getting more attention than you are," he shot back. He hid his smile as Tom's sneer widened. Good. My attempt to derail the conversation worked. Even though Tom prided himself on his rationality, he snapped at anyone who spoke poorly of him.

Moreover, it was true. Harry had become something of a mini-celebrity for the past three months, but he figured it would go away soon once the newest major tragedy hit the newspapers. Sure, he got approached by a few random students in the halls that thanked him for his bravery, but the Slytherins didn't quite care (as they didn't know that he saved Avery's life). Harry didn't particularly care either, but Tom was always a little sore that he was getting more attention.

Tom, for once, didn't rise to the bait and chose not to respond. Harry dropped the topic.

A few hours later, they left for Hogsmeade. Once inside the village, they waited under a cloudy sky for their turn in the line to allow the Aurors to scan their wands. After a short lady scanned their wands to confirm their identities as students, they were let into the Three Broomsticks pub.

Inside, they looked around and found two tables, one nearest the exit and the other squarely in the center of the room. Exchanging glances, they walked to the one near the exit and sat down.

Some things never change, Harry thought, shimmying into the narrow couch. Everytime he was in the pub, it was always cramped and noisy and smelly.

"I'll get the drinks," Harry said. "You want anything?"

Tom gave the slightest shake of his head. "Alcohol is a waste of money."