chapter 3
/*Harry's POV*/
It has been one week since the four black students came to Hogwarts.
They were disastrous! They throw tantrums in class, beat up students whom they deem as racists and generally behave like a loose bull in a China shop. At first one of them thought that I was racist— probably because of my karen looking eyeglasses— and had intended to extort lunch money from me.
At first I never had the intention to intervene with their savagery. However, after witnessing one of them bullying and beating up Draco, I lost my cool and beat the shit out of the bully, albeit not resolute but purely out of impulse.
Under normal circumstances I would have gotten a huge ass-whooping I would find hard to forget. Fortunately, at the last moment, the ever so noble Ron stepped in.
And less than a minute later, I found myself being put up on a pedestal, worshipped by the negros as "Based God".
I had forgotten exactly how the events unfold, but I was relieved to not end up becoming their mutual nemesis.
And from that day onwards, the four of them converted to HarryPotterism.
Every morning, they would pledge allegiance to me.
"Harry potter is the one and only Based God, and Prophet Ron is his messenger."
With my new-found title of Based God, I started hanging out with the niggers. They were more than pleased to have me as company.
They were still fairly rowdy in class whenever the Proffessors turn their back on them. However, as the day went by, the monotony of schoolwork took over their initial hype and they found themselves more prone to toning down their chimp-outs.
We often hang out during lunch, where we would have a good time engaging in conversations. We talked about pretty diverse stuff and topics range from life in the States to drug etiquettes.
I was able to understand each and every one of them better through these conversations.
Two of them were childhood friends, namely Haram and Martin.
Haram arguably had the most comfortable life among them. He was born in Brooklyn to a rich drug lord. At the age of 3, his father left for Paris, and from then on, he became a typical fatherless niglet. Despite that his family did not lose everything. Not only did their father leave them the penthouse, but upon cleaning the abode, his mother discovered stacks of cash behind the sofa amounting to 50 million dollars.
Ever since young he was able to live a privileged life, wearing denim jackets and branded sneakers when most of the kids around his hood were barely able to afford plain clothes.
He attended the top grammar school in New York with many of the other black kids whose families were of similar caliber. The future seems bright for him. Whenever mom brought him to church, she would often make magniloquent claims about how her son was going to become the next Ben Carson.
His mom was a highly-educated school teacher too. Under such a positive upbringing, it seemed that Haram was bound to achieve great things in his adulthood.
Unfortunately, the decadent lifestyle was not there to stay.
In the 90s, New York was undergoing major gentrification. Many black tenants were forcefully evicted by the authority and their properties converted to luxurious suites of the rich. Not only were these acts carried out against the people's will, but they were often followed by little to no compensations.
Haram's neighborhood soon became one of the targets. On that day, he was happily walking back home from school, eager to share with mom about the indecent acts committed by his teacher. It was the first time he saw a grown-up's willy in real life. It was also the first time he saw cops in action. He could not wait to see his mother's expression.
When he reached home, he saw mom on the couch, sobbing into a handkerchief. On the table was a form from the housing authority asking them to move before the bulldozers arrive.
Haram was too young to understand. However, one thing that he did understand was that something terrible had happened. He did not know why, and stayed ignorant on the situation until he got on-board the one-way flight to Detroit.
His mom had tried negotiating with the authority. She even tried to bribe the officers that came over to her house. No matter what tricks she pulled up her sleeves, the housing authority remained adamant on their stance— either get out of the way or get fucked by the bulldozer.
The penthouse was sold for a meagre sum of $90,000. All the possessions in the house was auctioned off as his mom wished to start anew in Detroit. Relocation was undergoing and two months later, the housing authority has identified a decent house in downtown Detroit.
When Haram left New York, he was only six.
To say that Detroit was a shithole is an understatement. The once bustling industrial city was on the verge of collapse. everything from infrastructure to housing, water, education and economy, was comparable to many parts of Africa.
Haram was enrolled in a public school as schools for elites were non-existent in the impoverished state of Michigan. The school was unlike what he had experienced back in New York. The slides were broken, the toilets were caked in dried excrements and the water cooler dispensed warm water! Haram could not believe his eyes.
On the flip side, it was in this school that Haram got to know Martin.
In the first few days, he caught the attention of many students, albeit not in a good way. The thuggish schoolboys were amused by Haram's shy and timid appearance and often made fun of him as a result. Soon the taunting escalated into violence as kids began throwing their leftovers and milk bottles at him during lunch.
Haram finally had enough of the bullshit so one day during lunch he let loose all the steam that built up within him.
As he was eating, one of the more provocative thugs smacked him on the back of the head, causing him to plunge face first into his lunch.
The other kids burst out in laughter as they watched Haram haplessly trying to remove spaghetti sauce from his face.
Little did they expect that the usually passive Haram would suddenly rise up from his seat and deal grievous bodily harm to the provocateur.
"Sometimes you just don't know when to stop huh?" Haram screamed as he repeatedly punched his target in the face. His target was crying and pleading him to stop. He claimed to be a "gud boy" who "dindu nuffin". Haram ignored him and continued ploughing his fist into the latter's face.
"Sumbody call da cops!" The cafeteria soon fell into disarray as kids ran all over the place. Some kids were trying to find a teacher. Just then the headmaster came with a whip in his hands. "Who is making all these noise? Better own up!"
Haram and the other boy were in plain sight. "Why are you two niggers fighting! Are your parents too black to educate you?" the headmaster hollered at the two of them. When no words came out of their mouth, the headmaster drew his whip and started lashing haphazardly at the two of them.
"Fucking nigger kids making a mess in my school! What gave you two such audacity to fight here? Niggers!" the headmaster screamed as he violently whipped the two of them. "That will teach you thugs a lesson I hope!"
When the headmaster stopped whipping them, Haram got up. However, the boy lying next to him suddenly grabbed his legs.
Haram tensed up, ready to beat the brains out of the boy and end his worthless life.
"Nice fight fella, nvr knew u had it in u mah nigga," the other boy grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up.
From that day onwards, Haram and Martin became the best of friends.
Halfway through Haram's story, I suddenly realised that my eyes were turning misty. Which was indeed a strange thing, for I was never the type of person to be moved to tears. I didn't cry during that one time Ginny almost died by the hands of Tom Riddle.
I didn't cry either when Hermione revealed that she had aids and only got six months to live. Turned out to be a joke, but my deadpan reaction to the news greatly offended her. Consequently, she didn't speak to me for a month
I didn't even cry when I had to cut onions for a magical potions class
Which is why I was surprised when tears started forming in my eyes while listening to Haram's anecdote.
The story was just so touching. The fact that a friendship can blossom under such tough times touched me to no end. I was partially guilt-ridden over my nihilistic outlook towards life.
After sharing their anecdote, I had so much more respect for the four of them.
Unlike them, I was only abused and disenfranchised by my adoptive family in the pettiest of ways. They had to suffer the real deal, losing out so many times in life because of institutionalized racism. Despite that they have gone through the struggle, battled the odds, and eventually got into Hogwarts.
In the eyes of outsiders, they may appear as your typical hoodrats. Sure, they can be loud, disruptive and at times violent, but who is more to blame than the regressive system which they came from in the first place?
I am beginning to like them more and more. In the 16 years of my existence, I have finally found some true friends.
