CH11 - Detention

Chewing on his eggs contentedly, Edmund let out a small groan of happiness as he tilted his head back and patted on his belly with a groan.

Opposite him, Cecilia sat watching with disgust as he continued eating even afterwards, stuffing himself full.

"Do you have a stomach or a trash can?" she asked with revulsion. "Five separate times I've watched you fill up your plate, and you're still going."

Lifting up his fork in a gesture to ask for a minute, Edmund swallowed before looking at her seriously.

"Man's gotta eat," he said, drowning his french toast with enough maple syrup for three people.

Cecilia glared at him murderously before looking to Ben and Jeremy for support. However, she was bound to be disappointed as she watched the two boys pointedly look in any direction except toward her.

Cecilia continued to sulk until a chorus of screeches and hoots echoed into the hall. Hundreds of owls poured through the rafters, diving down to the tables to find their respective recipients.

Quickly, Edmund covered his plate with another empty one upside down, protecting his food with the utmost fierceness.

He was smart to do so, as a regal black owl that landed next to Cecilia shook its neck, flinging feathers and dirt everywhere.

...Including into Ben's half-finished porridge bowl that he was in the middle of taking a bite from. Jeremy burst into laughter as Ben grimaced unhappily.

Cecilia deftly plucked a small roll of parchment from the owl's claws. Hurriedly unfurling the letter, her eyes glanced over the paper as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The black owl, unimpressed with Cecilia's lack of attention, pecked at her shoulder and squawked loudly, begging for pets, food, or both.

Cecilia hissed with pain, and the letter dropped from her fingers, falling onto the table. The parchment rolled towards Edmund and was about to reach him before Cecilia managed to snatch it back up again. However, she wasn't fast enough to prevent Edmund from getting a small peek.

His cheeks puffed from the strain of preventing his laughter.

"You- your family calls you pumpkin?" he whispered, biting his lips.

"Shut up!" she snarled, looking around to ensure no one had heard him.

"Alright pumpkin," he teased with a wink. "At least they're not upset that you didn't follow the family tradition with your sorting."

"Tsk," Cecilia clicked her tongue grumpily.

"Neither my dad nor grandma cares about that stuff. They're probably happier I don't have to deal with the morons over there," she said, gesturing to Marcus Flint who had managed to get one of the prongs of his fork stuck in his gap tooth.

Edmund was planning on teasing her some more, but he was interrupted by McGonagall coming up behind him.

'Right,' he thought, trying to put on his best repentant face, 'time for the punishment.'

Unfortunately, Edmund hadn't managed to make it back to the Hufflepuff common room the previous night unfound. Rather, he had turned a dimly lit corner and tripped over a tabby cat noisily. When he had looked up, he'd come face to face with an extremely unimpressed professor.

"As I mentioned last night Mr. Cole," McGonagall began, "you have a week's worth of detention to serve. I expect you to be present at the Transfiguration classroom at eight PM sharp."

Edmund saluted the professor lazily who huffed in response to his nonchalance.

The bell rang loudly, signalling the end of breakfast.

"Dang, didn't even get to finish my food," Edmund said mournfully as Cecilia snickered with schadenfreude.

Jeremy patted him on the back sympathetically as he stood up. With one last longing look at his plate, Edmund too began packing up.

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

His second day passed no less rapidly than the first.

His lesson with Lupin went well, and he could tell that the man knew what he was talking about. Still, at the end of the day, it was first-year material: standard and boring, especially compared to the lesson Edmund knew the third years would be having.

Potions had been much less of a nightmare than he had expected. Snape was gruff and short with his students, but still a fairly average teacher. Although, his lack of regard for safety standards ought to have been downright criminal. Edmund was sure the majority of Madam Pomfrey's work in the day was reversing potions accidents.

As it was the last day of the week, Edmund had also received his first-ever flying lesson. The feeling of flight, and the wind blowing through his hair was exhilarating. Still, Edmund knew that he was no natural, and he would need a lot of practice before he stopped looking like he was clinging to the broomstick for dear life.

Jolting out of his reminiscence, Edmund knocked on the large wooden door in front of him. It was only a few moments later that he heard a voice from within beckoning him.

"Come in."

Edmund slipped into the room, before closing the door behind him. Inside, he found McGonagall sitting at her desk, her eyes firmly on a large sheaf of parchment in front of her. Hearing the door close, McGonagall's eyes found his, before she looked at the clock wall-mounted to the right of her.

"Punctual," she noted, "I doubt its losing track of time that's the reason behind you roaming the halls at night."

Edmund smiled, giving her a big thumbs up. McGonagall sighed deeply, before waving him to the desk directly in front of her. Edmund hurriedly took a seat, waiting for further instructions.

"Usually, I like to give out detentions that I know the students will hate the most. I find it dissuades them from repeating their offensive behaviour," she explained.

"Sadistic," Edmund couldn't help mutter under his breath.

"Anything you have to say Mr. Cole?" she asked, looking more amused than angry with his comment.

Still, Edmund knew not to push his luck. He shook his head, trying to show he was paying attention with his body language.

"As I was saying," she continued, "I try to make sure detentions are suited to each student. Usually, they involve manual work with Mr. Filch of some kind."

"In fact, just a few hours ago I was informed that Messrs. Fred and George Weasley had decided to christen their return to Hogwarts by blowing up all the men's toilets on the ground floor," McGonagall said with a smile, enjoying the dawning horror on Edmund's face. "I had planned to make you join them in clean-up for the rest of the week."

"Fortunately for them and you, the magical ingredients they used to accomplish their—" she paused here, considering what word to use, "—feat— are rather toxic, and are not safe to be handled by untrained hands."

The air whooshed out of Edmund's lungs in relief, his dopey smile back in place.

"However, it does not mean that I'll be letting you off easy. Just for tonight, you will be sitting here with me for the next two hours. Lines are both a waste of parchment and your time and are not a punishment I enjoy employing," McGonagall explained as she walked over to the small bookcase in the corner of the classroom. "Instead, I will be asking you to write a paper on the five basic principles of inanimate to inanimate transformation, as well as all of their exceptions."

She handed him a variety of textbooks, clearly intending to make the task difficult for him. Seeing him pull out parchment and a quill, she gave a satisfied nod before sitting back down at her desk.

However, she would not get the peace and quiet she was hoping for. Furious sounds of scratching filled the air nonstop for almost twenty minutes. When she looked up, it was to see Edmund standing before her, parchment in hand.

"Yes, Mr. Cole? I must warn you, if you intend to elicit the answers from me by asking poor questions, you will be disappointed. I have been a teacher for many decades, and I know—" she began ranting before cutting herself off.

For in front of her was a full length of parchment, completely covered in ink.

"I'm done," Edmund said, confirming her suspicions.

Without another word, McGonagall pulled his work towards herself and began reading. Five minutes later, she jerked her head back upwards, looking at him in amazement.

"This is the quality of work I would expect in the final exams!" she exclaimed, feeling the need to clarify upon Edmund's confused look. "Half of these exceptions I haven't even mentioned yet, let alone gone into the details of! For Morgana's sake, we've only had one lecture! The degree of knowledge you demonstrate with this essay would earn you an 'O' easily!"

"I like to read," Edmund shrugged.

McGonagall gave him an incredulous look.

"I like to read a lot?" he tried again.

"Mr. Cole, what in the world—" she began loudly, before being cut off by Edmund with his hands in the air.

"Alright, alright. I've read the transfiguration textbook two times over from cover to cover. I've tested every spell in there just in my first and second nights at Hogwarts. I'm working on pushing them to the limits as much as I can. I just love the rules that govern transfiguration, and how they still leave so much room to explore!" Edmund began to explain methodically, his tone turning more into a gushing one with every word he spoke.

A look of determination came over McGonagall before she stood up and came around the table.

"Grab your wand," she demanded. "I want to see where you've gotten with your practical work."

Edmund flicked his wrist, his wand sliding into his palm.

"Where should I start?" he asked excitedly.

Edmund quickly learned that McGonagall was actually less like the kind but stern professor she showed in class, and more like a strict drill sergeant. Every motion of his was criticized, and every unit of magical power he expended was judged for its efficiency in completing the requested task. The pair swiftly moved through all of the basic spells without a single break.

"Show me how your basics are for animate to inanimate transfiguration," McGonagall ordered, summoning a mouse from a crate in a storage room.

With a flick of his wand, Edmund turned the mouse into a snuffbox, complete with intricate detailing in the form of the Hogwarts crest on the lid.

"Hmmm," she hummed. "Good, but lacking in many ways. Practice! You will need lots of it to progress, especially in terms of controlling your power to use the bare minimum needed so you can conserve your energy. Ensure—"

The clock chimed loudly, interrupting McGonagall's lecturing and Edmund's note-taking. Looking over to the clock as if it had betrayed her, McGonagall pursed her lips.

It was ten PM. Any later than this, and Edmund would be breaking curfew once more.

"Very well, Mr. Cole. That will be all for tonight. We will continue tomorrow," she said swiftly.

'Tomorrow?' Edmund thought and mouthed out. 'Hell yes!'

Ignoring him, McGonagall kept talking.

"I expect you to head straight to bed," she lectured, opening the classroom door for him and leading him outside. "Off you go."

Edmund nodded seriously, thanking the professor once more. As soon as the door to the classroom closed he turned and headed in the exact opposite direction of the Grand Staircase.

He hadn't taken even ten steps before he heard the wood creak again, a hissing tabby cat emerging from within threateningly. The cat began stalking towards him, as Edmund shrunk in on himself with a wince. Once the cat was within five feet of him, she growled angrily, holding one of her front paws upwards and to the left.

Hanging his head low, Edmund began walking in the correct direction. The cat continued to follow, supervising his movements until he began walking down the stairs. It was only then that Edmund was left alone, vaguely hearing McGonagall mumbling about unruly children greying her out too early.