(1940-01-04) The Perpetual Argument
Details for The Perpetual Argument
Summary: Megan and Angelus argue about blood purity and equality again and Gel demands that Megan stop talking to Madeline.
Date: January 4, 1940
Location: Entry Hall - Roaring Corridor
Related: Who Can You Trust

Angelus has tucked the game away by the time he reaches the doors of the Great Hall. As he reaches Megan again, his arm reaches out to place a hand against her back, guiding her even as he lets her lead. He doesn’t wait until they reach the commons to speak, in fact as they cross the entry hall the youth leans in close to speak into her ear. “I don’t want you talking to her. There’s far better company than her, May.” A glance is thrown around the entry hall, but of course everyone has already either scattered off to their commons or are still lingering in the hall.

"I know you don't, but then I think your fear of muggleborns is unjustified. They're no different than us, except they have the benefit of having lived in two worlds," Megan replies. "Now, if you drew the line between magical and non-magical people, instead of between purebloods and non-purebloods, at least that would make some sense. After all, it was muggles who attempted to burn witches and wizards. And the wizarding community is so small, it needs fresh blood to avoid the problems of inbreeding. It's better to mix with muggleborns than with muggles."

“Afraid,” Angelus tests the word and shakes his head. “I’m not. I just don’t trust them, her most of all.” Starting up the stairs of the moving staircases, he keeps his voice low. “Listen to her, talking about using our magic on Muggles, changing the way we do things to fancy her. She doesn’t even respect how our world is, just wants to change it, and gets upset when we get upset. She’s too stubborn to understand.” He draws in a breath and adds in, “Any of them. They all do it.” Gel snorts, looking up the stairs as he stops to wait for the joining staircase before moving again. “They don’t just come in and learn our ways, they want to take charge of everything. I didn’t tell you about the Auror, did I?” His lips twist in contempt and there’s a flicker of hurt and annoyance in his eyes before he pauses to rest a hand against the railing, closing his eyes. “So here comes Higgins, accusing me of things and insulting me, and me, trying to be civil - and you can ask Celes, she was there - she kept on going on, but could I just walk away? No. Because Irene Odori shows up and demands to know what happened. And the Auror goes on to say how I’m bad when, first of all, it had nothing to do with her, but I was still being polite. Even though she said nothing to Higgins at her continued insults. Instead, she took out her wand and threatened me. When I told her I’d tell Pa, the Auror herself insulted our family.” A snort escapes Angelus and he pauses to the side of the stairs again, glancing over the side briefly before he looks to Megan. “And you know why? Because they see a pure-blood with his beliefs and don’t want to understand it.”

"But you *are* afraid, of our worlds melding together," Megan says. "You're so defensive about preserving wizarding culture and traditions as they are now, as if they're inviolable, and incorporating muggle art, science, and technology would somehow diminish our quality of life or something. Progress is more important than tradition. Heterogeneity is superior to homogeneity. Diversity breeds new ideas and innovation." She continues up the stairs. "We seem to keep having the same arguments over and over again. If you want to influence or sway my way of thinking, you're going to have to explain why I should care at all about keeping traditions. Traditions for the sake of traditions are pretty pointless. And it's a logical fallacy to judge a race of people from a few individuals or incidents."

Angelus stops where he is and simply hangs back, hand on the banister, tilting his head as he stares after his sister. Pain flickers in his eyes for only a fraction before he blinks, shaking his head and turning to look on over the railing again, both hands spread apart over the railing. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs. “When did you start hating our world so much? There’s the Muggle world, and there’s the wizarding world, if you try to merge them together than it’s just going to be dull. Just one, bland world with no changes between the two.” His gaze doesn’t stray from looking over the side of the staircase until he lets out a breath, closing his eyes briefly before he opens them and swings them back onto Megan. “You don’t see any of it like I do. Why? Or do you now believe I’m the bad guy too?” He pauses for the briefest of moments before he suddenly adds, tilting back his chin. “Make a choice, May. Madeline’s friendship or your brother’s? Your brother who cares about you, and protects you, and would jump in front of a Muggle gun for you.”

Megan pauses on the moving staircase and turns to face Angelus. "I don't dislike the wizarding world, and I never claimed such. I'm just not afraid of change, unlike others. For the record, I would prefer that muggles never find out that our world exists. But I think we should embrace muggleborns, if only because they have to live in our world now." Caught off-guard, she frowns at the ultimatum. "Gel… if you love me, you won't force me to choose. Your love for me shouldn't be contingent on who my friends are. I will always love you no matter what you do that I don't approve of, because you're my brother, and we were raised together, and you taught me most of what I know."

“Yes, we do have to work with Muggle-born,” Angelus agrees with his sister, but his lips quirk into a smirk. “We do because they are witches and wizards too. But we can’t trust them to abide by the rules and law of our world. We have to be ever vigilant and make sure to guide them in our ways and not let them rule us. We are above, we are the leaders, them simply our followers. And they need to learn that.” A grin tugs at his lips as she starts her answer about choosing, lifting a foot up onto the next step to approach Megan, until he falters and blinks when the expected answer isn’t spoken. “Of course I love you. That can never be broken. But you’re also my best friend, May. Or you were,” he adds in. “I don’t want you talking to Evans. If you care about my feelings at all, you’ll stop. You’re likeable and can make friends easily. You don’t need her.” He steps up onto the step and leans a hand against the banister. “Please, May. Please.”

"And if you care about my feelings at all, you'll not push the issue so aggressively. Or at least present a rational, unbiased argument as to why you're singling her out, with something more substantial than supposition and presumption," Megan counters. "I can't just drop a trusted friend who hasn't done anything to lose my trust. It would be rather like cutting off my own arm." She stumbles when the staircase starts moving of its own accord again.

“She’s not a trusted friend,” Angelus returns quickly. “May, if you even voice any concern or worry about the Muggles, she’ll immediately throw you in with the ‘bad guys.’ If you have any sympathy that goes against her views, she’ll drop you just like that.” He draws in a breath and says, “You really trust her more than your own brother?” Gel once again backs up, taking a step down, pausing for a second before he continues up. “Since when don’t you listen to me?” he asks, but says it like he doesn’t really want her to answer. “I can’t let you talk to her, because if you end up getting hurt I’ll have failed.”

"'Trust' isn't an easily-quantifiable thing that can be compared between people," Megan says. "I trust you both, but in very different ways, and it's not at all fair to claim or assume that I trust her more than you." She turns to follow Angelus as he continues ascending the stairs. "Of course I weigh your counsel more than other peoples', Gel. But if I can't choose my own friends for myself, then what's the point of having any? If I get hurt because of my own friendships, that will be my problem, not yours."

Angelus hops onto the landing leading to the Gryffindor tower when he turns to Megan, a slight tilt to his lips. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” he says, shaking his head. “It would be my problem. If someone were to hurt you I’d have to make them regret it,” he says in a rather matter-of-fact tone, chin lifting with the arrogance that he’d be feared. When he walks along the corridor it’s with fast paced, furious steps that take him to the commons entrance. Then he stops and turns to Megan, reaching out an arm to wrap around behind her and pull her in close, intending to give her a very tight hug.

Megan doesn't resist the hug; she even leans into it and reciprocates, despite the tension between them. "You're all I could have hoped for in a brother, despite us not agreeing on this one thing. I wouldn't be who I am without you. I'll be damned if I let this drive us apart. Please just give this issue a rest and leave me be for now. I have enough to worry about without the threat of losing you weighing me down."

Angelus keeps his arm around Megan, hugging her tight. “And yet you won’t do this one thing for me,” he murmurs. “No matter how kind or nice I’ve been to her,” he starts in a soft, weary voice, “she suddenly turns around and drives a knife in my chest when I express wizarding pride. I tried to be nice, I listened to Irene Odori and was showing kindness, and it got slapped back in my face a multiple of times.” His lips twitch a little. “So I don’t like her, I don’t trust Odori, and I don’t like my sister talking to her. And yet you insist on putting me through anguish. Just this one request. She’s not a nice person.”

"If there's any anguish here, you're creating it for yourself in your mind," Megan replies. She takes a step back to look at him, holding his shoulders at arm's length. "I'm glad I'm not a muggle, because they live mundane lives in ignorance and have short lifespans, but I really couldn't care less as to whether I was a pureblood or a muggleborn, because there's no difference as far as I'm concerned. I have no 'pride' to flaunt to a muggleborn; and if I did, I certainly wouldn't display it in front of them because that would be tactless. I won't pretend to know all the unbiased details of what happened that day, but you're certainly ascribing a lot of weight on that particular event. In fact, I think you're using it as an excuse to justify your views, since you haven't come up with an objective argument for them yet." She pauses, sighing. "Because of your wishes, I've already limited what I say in public, and I don't hang around muggleborns publicly beside my dorm-mates, and I let most racial slurs slide without intervening. I had hoped you would appreciate that effort, at least."

Getting sharp jabs at some of her words, Angelus grimaces before replacing it with a determined expression. “May,” he says firmly, locking his royal blue eyes on her. “May.” Whatever he was going to say he doesn’t, simply regarding her in silence as his hands fall away from her. He looks disappointedly away from her, shaking his head slowly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d just stand with me, always. But you don’t want to admit that you’re better than them. What happened to my sister?” Stepping up to the portrait he murmurs out the password, then turns a look to Megan. “Go. Go into the commons. I’ve got to drop by the library,” he says flatly.

"As far as I know, there's nothing a pureblooded wizard can do that a muggleborn wizard can't, so no, I won't claim to be superior to them," Megan counters, glancing through the portrait-hole. "Going to find some propaganda material for me to read?", she asks mock-suspiciously. "Go on, I'll catch up with you later."

Megan steps into the Gryffindor common room, letting Angelus continue on his way to the library.

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