InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "bang bang you shot me down"

“Ma, I’m home!” Angus called out as they trooped into the auld Campbell house where he’d grown up and where he now lived again since his return from Azkaban. It wasn’t a posh place, he’d freely admit, all old stone walls and tilting doorways and the cheerful clutter of many generations of a large and close family, but it was home and it had all the modern conveniences. Most of them, anyway. The magical Campbells had always been integrated with their Muggle side, and this branch had been all the more so after Ryan Campbell had brought home his Muggleborn bride forty years ago. “King’s here!” he added as an afterthought. Hangover potions had him upright after his late night with Lex, but he wasn't top of his game just yet.

His mum popped her head in from the kitchen garden, pruning shears in hand. She prefered to do things by hand most of the time; old habits died hard, and especially since she’d spent a year and a half living as a Muggle, Angus thought she found working with her hands instead of her wand comforting. “Hullo, dear. Jason, my sweet, so nice to see you. Did you boys want a cuppa? I can just put the kettle on.”

“I did lure him in with promises of a wee nip,” Angus said coming forward to kiss her cheek. “But I’d take mine in tea, sure. What about you, Jay?”

“Hello, Mrs Campbell,” said Jason in greeting. “That sounds perfect.” Jason had liked the Campbell homestead. It was a good blend of non-magic and magic, much like his home. Although admittedly nothing like his childhood home which was a flat and then later a row house that barely fit all five of them.

“I hope you don’t mind Mandela came along. He wanted to meet the family as he is eagerly awaiting Angus’s proposal.” The dog in question was right at his side. Unless it was outright banned or inappropriate, Jason brought Mandela with him everywhere. He was well-behaved that it wasn’t much of a problem, but it was definitely a part of Jason’s safety net.

“Oh, it’s no problem, I love a good dog. We always had a dog when you children were young, didn’t we, Angus?” Elizabeth set down her burdens and dusted off her hands, then crouched down to offer one to Mandela to sniff. He licked it politely, and she smiled. “Dogs, cats, kids -- we had a full house all the time back when Angus’s father was living.”

“Yeah,” Angus agreed shortly, frowning a little, and edged past his mother into the kitchen. “I’ll put on the kettle, Ma. Don’t you steal my braw bonny dog’s affections, now.”

Jason laughed. He needed a good laugh with the looming reality of what the BIL proposal was stirring up. “I don’t think Mandela’s affections will be swayed so easily.” Far easier to leave the joking about a dog, but then again that wasn’t what they were here for, was it?

“You can tell me if this isn’t the place, but inquiring minds want to know, Mrs Campbell, what’s your thoughts on the BIL proposal to scrap the ‘97-’98 season?” Jason knew where Angus stood, he had a good idea of the other muggleborn players, but it couldn’t hurt to test the water on muggleborns in general.

Elizabeth straightened up, wiping her dog-approved hand absently on her sweater. “Well,” she said, “you know I missed most of the war, love, and so I don’t know that I have much of an opinion. On the one hand, it seems to me that it’s a terrible shame not to do something about that awful time, and I know Angus is for it. Lennox, too, I imagine largely because it means that much to Angie.

"On the other hand… you know the phrase ‘follow the money’? I do wonder, if this goes through, who’s profiting from it all, and on whose backs. I know the League Commission is controlled by the team owners, and they’d hardly do anything that doesn’t benefit them in some way, which makes me wary about what their game is.” She shrugged and patted Mandela’s head. “Not that my opinion is worth much to anyone up high. I don’t pay for tickets, after all. But I’ll support my boys in anything they think is right.”

“Cheers, Ma,” Angus said, leaning out from the kitchen, and patted her shoulder. “Tea’s on, you two.”

Jason might argue she had a lot at stake in how this played out. She also said something that Jason had been trying to figure out - who was going to benefit from this move and at what cost? “Monetary gain does always seem to be a driving factor and can’t always be easy to track. Shame we can’t just hope that people are doing things for the right reasons.”

Before he was able to further explore those thoughts, Angus resurfaced. “Right, tea, brilliant. Then we’ll go play king-maker, so to speak. I do appreciate the insight, Mrs Campbell. It’s choppy waters we’re wading into here.”

Angus, who always appreciated a good sea metaphor, slapped Jason on the shoulder as he shepherded him into the kitchen. “Aye, but this here is one boat that can weather any manner o’ pitch. Eh?”

“In that case, shorten your sail a bit, dear, and mind you look out for the skerries,” his mother advised, smiling, and gave Mandela one last pat before gathering up her shears again. “I’ll be in the garden if you boys need me.”

Angus grinned over at Jason as the tea poured itself. “After four decades on this island, Ma’s finally learnin' to sail,” he told him proudly. “She’s a braw auld hand. Well, come on, sit, make yourself at home.” He poured a generous tot of rum into his own teacup, and offered the bottle to Jason. “I’ve whisky if you’d rather.”

As Mrs Campbell left, Mandela looked torn between the prospect of garden and staying here, but ultimately just took the invitation and settled quite comfortably at Angus’s feet. Jason followed in suit. “This is fine.” He poured a smaller nip into his cup.

“So, we could talk around it, but I’m worried that we’re going to rip the team and everything apart.” Yes, there was a place for justice, but Jason still wasn’t convinced the the proposal was about that.

"Aye," Angus agreed, uncharacteristically sober, "but the war already did that, Jay. I don't see how it could be worse."

He flicked his wand to summon a bowl from the pantry, fill it with water at the tap, and fly it down to the floor for Mandela, all without leaving his seat. It might have been true, what they said about Dementors being able to take away people's magic, but it hadn't happened with him; even now he was relieved every time his spells worked, and he used magic for everyday tasks now even more than he'd used to.

He wrapped his fingers around his cup to warm them, and gave Jason a long, level look. "What are the other Muggleborns sayin' about the proposal, then, the ones that were in Azkaban and the ones that fled? I know you've been talkin' to them."

Jason took a drink, weighing that question, especially in the way it placed Angus in the weird in between space that Jason usually claimed. Of course the war and holiday with dementors wasn’t a uniquely muggleborn problem, but he couldn’t argue that it didn’t feel different for him. “We’re angry. We’re confused. And we’re worried.”

“Our first move is going to be to demand transparency, deals behind closed doors seem far too familiar.” And while Jason appreciated what Lex had been trying to do with the QUABBLE meeting there were too many threads there. “But I think we are uniting, which has the possibility to further draw lines between us and the other players, especially those that played that year.”

Angus nodded slowly, still as somber as a thundercloud. "Sure. Reckon there's no avoiding some kind of brangle, now that we're all startin' to take sides." He ran a hand through his messy hair, which left one side standing on end. "I feel badly about it, Jay. I know Len hates being put in the middle of all this, and I reckon everyone wishes I'd just shut my gob about it, but it just puts my birse up hearin' people talk about how the war's over now and we've got to move on and heal and let bygones be bygones."

His hackles were up just thinking about it, and he scowled down into his steaming tea. "Well, I can't forget it, do ye ken? It's not the time I spent in prison, I can swallow that, but -- it's all of them that never spoke out, never did a thing that could've stopped it while our own kind was hunting and torturing and murdering you lot in the name of blood purity. Just put their heads down and flew their matches and took their pay. It's not right. It was never right."

“Shutting your gob is the last thing you should do. The war is over, sure, but the scars are still there, and so much of the ideology of what prompted the war still exists, people are just keeping those thoughts to themselves right now.” And Jason couldn’t help but think of Gregor’s experience, trying to go live in the non-magical world for the war and how ill prepared he was for that. The same was true for him and many of his peers.

Muggleborns stepped out of their lives at the age of 11 and were expected to find a place in this new world where anything was possible. Exciting, but stress as he entered into adulthood trying to keep ties with his parents and his siblings. Jason rubbed his face, trying to get out of his head a little. He sighed.

“I know it’s going to hurt, that we’re going to pick at healing wounds, but I want people to talk. I want everything to be out in the open. I want people to own up for what they did and rather than simply prosecute everyone, I want progress to be made. We were at war when we started Hogwarts, it happened again quarter of a century later, I don’t want my kids to experience the same thing. I want to create a better world.” Maybe it was naive, maybe it was overly optimistic, but Jason had to believe it was possible. “I don’t know where this BIL proposal plays into all of it, but I can’t help but think it’s not part of a bigger move to have us forget, to pretend a debt is paid.”

Angus tossed back his doctored tea, not caring that it was just this side of bearably hot. He shook his head, setting the empty cup gently back on its saucer. "Reckon it's not a debt that can be paid, mate," he answered. "And I don't know what we can do to keep the same prejudice from risin' up again and again. But I want it to be better too, for my nieces and nephews and everyone's kids. I just don't know how, the way humankind is about hating each other--"

His big black cat chose that moment to wander into the room, arch her back and hiss at Mandela, and jump up into Angus's lap like she owned it to deposit fur onto his sweater. He chuckled, relaxing a little; she was no trained animal like Mandela, but in her own way the cat was as good as any counselor when he was in distress. "Shame on you, Andy Campbell, behavin' that way to a guest in our home," he scolded, but he gave her a fond scratch behind the ears anyway as she purred and rubbed her cheek against his sweater. "Cats and dogs, eh? Reckon wizardkind's no better than my favourite girl here about forming prejudice."

Mandela tucked himself behind Jason’s legs, hiding. He leaned down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “We should be better, even cats and dogs can learn to get along, to live side by side.”

“Whether or not it’s a debt that can be paid, doesn’t matter, people are looking for ways to pay it. So, it sort of becomes this question of what can you accept and the very complicated process of deciding how much and to who. None of which can really happen without transparency.”

Jason tapped his thigh inviting Mandela into lap, he could certainly use the grounding. “I have been looking toward some history - the question of American Slavery and more recently the Apartheid in South Africa, which couldn’t come as a surprise this guy is named for Nelson Mandela, but I keep thinking that’s where we need to be going.” It was just a quidditcher problem. “So, no, we can’t be silent, but we need to be intentional and where we make a stand.”

Angus peered at him from under his messy fringe, still petting his cat absently. "What are you lot wanting to do to make your stand, then? And--" He hesitated, chewing over his words for once before he said them. Maybe he was getting a bit less impetuous in his old age. "I'm no Muggleborn. I know you all have a different set of problems from me. I went to the Dementors for something I did, mate. You went for something you are. What you lot went through, having laws passed against you and all, being accused of stealin' magic for something you never chose, is something I can't even imagine.

"And all this…" He waved his hand to indicate the BIL proposal, the QUABBLE meeting, the tension between teammates now that it was all coming out into the open. "I want to stand with you Muggleborn players and employees, but I also reckon we might not end up on the same side of it in the end. You see this motion as the owners wanting to pretend they're making amends, closing the book on what happened. I see it as a chance for us all to own up to the fact it was wrong and the League isn't worth a wooden knut without our Muggleborn teammates and fans. Might be just a small step, but I reckon it's in the right direction."

“I guess, we’re still looking for allies, others to stand with us, and to get an idea of what we’re up against because,” Jason paused with a deep exhale, “I can’t help but worry the immediate response to any muggleborn coming forward on the record with be carefully crafted PR statements and more closed door.” Then it was going to be back to what started this in the first place. “Still, when it happens, I think it’s going to be me that speaks.”

“And we’re both too smart not to see how that impacts our team.” Jason didn’t think Montrose was the only team in the league struggling to return to some semblance of normal. Except the tension felt more pronounced. Jason felt horrible about saying it, but it didn’t make it less true. “Because we don’t spend time obsessing over it, and I don’t think we should, but it’s hard to forget Corban Yaxley’s role in everything and that’s the same last name of our starting beater and married into ownership.”

Angus frowned reflexively. "It's Lex's uncle, but she's not like him, she's a Hufflepuff, and she's no more prejudiced than I am," he objected. "And the Macmillans as a whole are decent enough even if they are purebloods. I reckon they'll give you lot a fair shake, and if they don't, you know you've got me and Len right here backing you up. We may not be pureblood but our family's old, too. We'll make 'em listen."

Andy Campbell turned herself in his lap, braced her front paws on his chest, and leaned up to rub her forehead affectionately against his beard. Angus petted her absently, his attention still on Jason and his expression still discontented. "I know you lot have no reason to trust that you'll get treated fair. But you'll have supporters among the halfbloods that have Muggle family, like me and Len, and even some purebloods, I reckon. And if it comes to it, and you lot need to protest or even take strike action to have your voices heard…" His expression turned darker yet; the thought of striking before he even got to properly join the starting line again was pure agony, and he had to swallow hard before he could continue. "Well, even if I'm on the other side of the proposal, I'd be right there with you to make everyone hear you. I swear it."

“Thanks, Angus, I know you have my back, but you also have to know I would never ask for more than you could give.” Which was why he was spending so much time figuring out the playing field and the rules. Sure, ‘Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere,’ and he was mentally gearing up for a crusade, but he was going to be smart about it.

Except even the mightiest of Ravenclaws could let logic slip away to emotion. “Which is to say, I suppose, where I need you is to figure out how to sort out our own house, so to speak, because I don’t see this going away or getting better.”

"Reckon you're not wrong about that." Angus frowned and rubbed at his temple to try to stave off the headache that was coming on. "I don't know that I can make anything better with the rest of 'em, though. I already made it worse with Lex -- said some things to her I should've kept in my own damned mind, but I just wasn't thinkin'. You know me and thinkin' ahead, we're not close mates." He grimaced. "Maybe you lot would be better off if I kept my neb out of it."

He shook his head and gestured to pour himself another cup of tea and add a dash of liquor. "But, anyway, I want to try. What do you reckon we should do, then?"

“I think I need to talk to Lex, first, and I am very sure that is one conversation she’s not going to want to have.” To be entirely honest, Jason wasn’t sure it was a conversation he wanted to have, but that didn’t mean it could be avoided forever. “Beyond that, I think we need to keep an open dialogue and I’m going to need someone to call me when I’m becoming too tall on my soap box.”

"Too tall? You?" Angus cracked a grin, sitting tall so he could look down on Jason from his superior height. There were just a couple inches between them, but whenever he could hold it over Jay, he would. "No fear of that, mate."

The bit of humour helped him relax, as did the cat currently sprawling bonelessly on his lap, and the building headache eased a bit. "I'm here to keep you from getting too big for your britches, all right. Though I reckon I can't do much about that big head of yours."

“Really it’s the gap between my front teeth you need to watch out for. It’s where I hide all of my secrets.” Jason welcomed the change in conversation. He said what he needed to say, there were pieces in motion, but there could also be space for fun. “Alright, now I say we stop with the illusion of tea, have a proper drink and maybe see about some sky.”