Late night, Common Room.


Feliks woke, as he almost always did, gradually. The world was still coming to life around him - tonight it was the murky green glow of the common room windows and a roaring flame in its hearth. Spindly furniture and polished leather divans. Fire light flickered across his face and he sat up properly in the armchair that had served as a napping bed. It was late, the clock was chiming away.

Many of his housemates had already retired, if they were not ensconced in some corner to read or gossip in hushed voices. Feliks glanced at the book in his lap: he'd fallen asleep reading a copy of the Wizarding World Guide, which he had bought with pocket money (another novelty, money of his own!) over winter break. Brand new but already well loved.

As he dogeared the page he'd gotten up to, France, he noticed that one of the older Slytherins had also settled by the fireplace. It was Acrux - a name Feliks knew simply because the older boy was one of few muggleborns in their house. He'd been curious about him. In some ways, there was a lot Feliks understood about the muggle world because he grew up with squibs.

But even amongst pureblood squibs, there was the stigma of the muggle. He'd been raised to think lesser of them and to view them as the inferior of a species, leading to incidents like last term's history[1] lesson.

Amongst the Slytherins themselves, though, Feliks noticed that the term 'mudblood' was less stigmatised. They didn't mind saying it as long as nobody else heard. How did Rigel fit into that? Did he believe the world he came from was inferior? It felt safer to ask him instead of anyone who wasn't a Slytherin, who wouldn't understand.

"Hello." Feliks tried to catch Acrux's eye, waving awkwardly but keenly at him. "You're Rigel Acrux, yes?"

1.	22nd Sept - Repeating History

Rigel loved sitting by the late night fire. The hustle of people slowing winding down, their voices battling back and forth to see who could be the quietest. He was deep into On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. Fond of the writing style and articulation, he couldn’t get enough. Hunched over in his chair, his interest was clearly visible to the view night owls around him.

He was turning the page delving deep into natural selection -

“Hello.” Feliks waved, unsure of what to do with himself. “You’re Rigel Acrux, yes?”

Luckily Rigel wasn’t caught off guard by this first year. A metamorph. Nothing much of note except for one transgression. He heard what happened in history. A naive thing, easily forgiven. Why did he struck up a conversation? This could be interesting.

“Flix, the man, the myth and the metamorph.” Rigel said closing his book, a smirk showing his pointed canines. He was jealous of this innate talent. It took skill to hone it but not skill to acquire it.

“What can I do for you?” Rigel crossed his legs, put the book on his lap and sat back. Patience emitting and actively listening, ready for a conversation. How deep; he didn’t know.

Rigel, to his delight, was willing to talk. Or he was at least friendlier about it than some of the other older Slytherins would be when approached by the utter bookworm Feliks had become. Some people walked around with invisible signs on their face that told you not to even think about it. Rigel's smirk was patronising but not threatening.

"I was just wondering," he put aside his book and sat at the edge of the armchair, "what do you think about muggles?"

That was a simple question, he thought, and hopefully an innocent one. His cousin, Raine, had made it clear to him over Christmas that the Almasy's purist ideology was inherently dangerous. Evil. Conceptually Feliks could accept that and it agreed with the good in the world that he wanted to see. Emotionally, it felt new and disquieting.

He wished his gut would catch up with his brain. "I mean," the boy clarified, "after you found out you were a wizard. Did it change how you looked at muggles?"

“I mean, after you found out you were a wizard. Did it change how you looked at muggles?”

Rigel tipped his head back and thought. Muggles, what a word. Everyone in Rigel’s eyes were human. There is no us or them. He could see that Feliks thought differently, just by the way he talked. His words insinuated that he’s curious on whether or not a division of the two is justified. Feliks is still learning after the history incident clearly, he’s trying well enough. Rigel flushed his emotions that instinctually came up at the subtle ideology that is hinted in this boys words.

“Feliks, first off, I forgive you.” Rigel said this with his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling focusing on the flames shadows. Putting his head down to make eye contact and shifting to match body language. “I was raised by humans. Mom and dad, you were too. The only difference lay not in their blood. Just in their ability. Do you think less of me for not being a metamorph? I take no offense to your questioning or how you structure your language. Please ask all the questions you have about these… Muggles.”

He lost his smirk, dropped for a more neutral tone. Expressionless, neither angry nor annoyed. A teachers trick to make the student do all the work. Rigel needed to remain ambiguous and open. Intentionally non-threatening as to welcome all the difficult questions this boy must have.

Forgive him? Forgive him for what? A little wrinkle appeared between Feliks' eyebrows but he didn't say anything, as Rigel spoke so smoothly and confidently. Something stuck in the younger wizard's throat at the mention of being raised by a 'mum and dad', and he quickly forced down the thought[1] of how he'd been brought up. Instead, he tried to focus on what his housemate was saying. It was logical, yes.

            "Please ask all the questions you have about these… Muggles."

Feliks laughed suddenly, brightening up. "Oh I know all about muggles!" he had lived with squibs who were being taught about muggle society so that they could assimilate. "They are clever, for people without magic. It is only... the difficulty I have is..."

Words were not his ally, in any three of the languages he knew. Not right now anyway. Feliks sighed with dissatisfaction and his dark curls reddened for a half-second. There had to be another way of coming around to the question he really wanted to ask. Another way of looking at it.

"Do you believe in God?" Feliks finally asked, leaning in slightly, his eyes glimmering seriously.

1.	The Cottage

"Do you believe in God?"

The question lingered in the air. Seemingly floating between the two boys. Rigel followed Feliks lean. He let out a hearty chuckle, knowing how late in the night it was and not caring.

“Feliks, that is a lot to unpack. Now I have questions of my own. Since I do not have the stage I will answer yours first, I assume you will return the favour.” He winked. Smiled, then did as he always did when he thought deeply about something, tilted his head back. Focusing on the same point, where the fiery shadows clipped off due to the ceiling of the chimney entrance.

Rigel made the assumption that Feliks was just curious how muggleborns were raised or how they think. Since he knows all about muggles what can Feliks learn from him? It was an interesting approach, Rigel would soon find where the ends of the circle meet.

“I do not believe in god, my dear friend. However I do believe that something caused this. Whatever it may be, there cannot be nothing and then something without another something. If that makes sense. A prime starter is what I like to call it. Entropy.”

"Entropy..." Feliks repeated the word to himself, making a mental note to look for it at the library. "I see."

He did not see, exactly. But he did understand more or less what Rigel meant - there was something before this world and there will be something after it and the universe went on and on and on. Feliks was quiet for a moment as he looked into the fireplace. His mother believed in God. The Almasys did, they were Orthodox Christians. Their Christmas was still days away.

Was that what he believed in?

"I believe in god. Or gods, like my papa, I think." Feliks finally turned back to the older boy, smiling a little. The smile quickly faded. "If there is one, then she meant to create muggles and wizards differently. I think that is strange," he frowned a little. "But you have questions too, yes?"

Feliks didn't want to be rude. He could not just go around demanding answers to his many questions, without expecting others to have their own.

Rigel let that go, "If there is one, then she meant to create muggles and wizards differently" an amazingly deep and profound question that needed so many layers of concrete to be laid on the foundation before building more knowledge unto it. He took a deep breath.

"Yes, your face did a thing when I mentioned my mother and father. Why?"

He tilted his head, intently watching for more subtleties of Feliks face.

            "Yes, your face...mentioned my mother and father. Why?"

Oh, he noticed. Feliks shrugged awkwardly and glanced away towards the murky green waters beyond their common room windows. "Um, I grew up in an institution." That had been the most accurate word - he and his papa had talked about it because sometimes people did ask where Feliks had been before he was sent to Edinburgh. In this case, Rigel's question was only incidental.

"And now I have two fathers," he added before looking back with a small but genuine smile. "They believe in many gods but not in an organised way."

Balfour and Johann exclaimed gods and, anyway, his papa made exclamations of Odin and Freja and things like that. Feliks did not know where he fit in when it came to beliefs but he liked what he was learning now. "Muggles believe in god or gods too. Would they be angry if they knew magic existed?"

That’s a damn good question that Rigel had never asked himself.

“Flix with the deep openers.” He sat back, opted for the sight of the ceiling again.

It was about two minutes before Rigel answered, he sat up with a furrowed brow.

“If there was a solution to all of your problems being kept hidden, wouldn’t you be mad? Under the guise of keeping muggles safe and wizards afraid of handing off the power that they so desperately cling onto. The world is unfair Flix, you can probably see it since you had a rough childhood. It is even more unfair when organizations maintain the systematic suffering of problems that you and I could fix in a heartbeat. Tell me, does that make you mad?”

His monotonous demeanour never raised above a harsh whisper. His hands stood as they were clasped and intertwined opting to not wave them around. His heart was casted in stone in preparation for the blows he may sustain.

Flix? Was that a nickname? He waited patiently while Rigel mulled it over. Feliks didn't mind waiting: he liked that the older student was taking his questions seriously instead of just dismissing them. So he fiddled with his book, flipping its pages and idling. When Rigel did reply, it was with great seriousness.

           "...Tell me, does that make you mad?"

He didn't quite understand the phrasing - but it did make Feliks think of how he might have felt if someone had told him about the Spectres, at The Cottage. About the family he had who didn't know about him, who would have come for him if they knew. The life he might have had.

"Yes.," he decided with a nod, though his expression was more sad than angry. "And angry at the God who allowed it. Do you think this is why muggles must never know?" Feliks eyebrows went up with curiousity. "If your muggle friends found out? They would be so angry, like with the witch hunts?"

“Like with the witch hunts?”

Rigel sat back encapsulated in reverie.

The man who shoved the coal on this train of thought was tasked with wondering what Feliks mother tongue was and if he could speak any common language Rigel knew better than english. The conductor was an anthropomorphized ideology under the guise of God. Each cart upon this train was aptly separated and partitioned off as to not confuse Rigel or rather Feliks if he chose to divulge this desultory thought.

While partitioning these questions to himself and playing the opposition in his head, “They would not be angry. Instead we could convince them of the things that they can accomplish. That is if they have it in them. A segregated society is not an equal society. Magic has the ability to ease the suffering of others, our hindrance of that, by definition, is enabling the continuation of suffering; we are evil for hiding it.”

“Can you speak Italian, my friend?”

            "... we are evil for hiding it."

Evil? Feliks pulled a face, like he was tasting that word and he did not like it. Was the Ministry of Magic evil? Papa as well as Johann worked for them but they did not say it was good or bad. They were doing their jobs and keeping a balance. Maybe what Rigel meant is that the balance was evil. Maybe he was right. Maybe not. Feliks wasn't sure if muggle suffering was the same as wizarding suffering.

His musing was interrupted by a strange question, and he laughed in surprise. "Italian? No. I speak Russian and French," he offered politely, wondering if he looked like he spoke Italian. "So, you grew up with muggles and you think it is a good idea for muggles to know about magic?"

Although Rigel said muggles would not be angry, Feliks felt differently. Muggles had bombs and guns and they used to burn witches. He didn't want that to happen again.

“Ah I can see the Russian, not the French.” He sat back in his chair and thought about the Slytherin in front of him for a few moments. Two different perspectives resulted in two worlds that were in anthesis.

“I do think it’s a good idea, yes.” Leaned forward putting together his hands.

“Humans are humans, regardless of if they have magical capabilities. Wizards kill, so do muggles. Wizards help others, so do muggles. Think of all the things that we could accomplish if we combined our two worlds Flix. We could save so many people, revolutionize society. Teach muggles about magic and how to be safe, we could start agencies dedicated to helping people in need. We would no longer have to hide. We could teach them to accept us by showing them what we can do for the human race.”

He tried to picture what Rigel was saying but it was not easy. Feliks knew that muggles were clever and resourceful... and so were squibs. But it seemed like a fantasy. Wizards could not agree on so many things. They would not agree on this. Adults were always disagreeing with each other.

            "We would no longer have to hide...can do for the human race.”

"I like hiding," he smiled a little, just enough to show that he was only joking. "Thank you for telling me what you think. I do not know many m-- muggleborns." Feliks pushed himself off the armchair and hugged his book to his chest.

Maybe he would see more of muggle Edinburgh when he returned home for the summer. His papa knew lots of muggle things and even knew how to drive an automobile. "I should sleep now. Good night, Rigel." Feliks held in a yawn, shaking his head. "I hope you are right, and good things happen."