An American Hogwarts VII

"Professor Hawthorne and I never got along. We always locked horns back at Huntshrow. He was the head of Woolyrun and he taught History of Magic, which was one of the hardest classes you could possibly take. Professor Hawthorne was strict, don't know if he is now, but he was back then. His lectures were difficult to follow, commonly using big words that we didn't really understand, and he would often go on tangents that were off subject but still yell at us to take notes. Fortunately his exams were straight from the book, but there were certain portions dedicated to what was discussed in class. He's very intelligent, really knows his stuff, but student relations was something he really needed to work on.

"One day, something happened towards the end of the class hour. Hawthorne was handing back graded exams. He handed a paper to a kid in my class named Houston Smith. Houston was in his sixth year, and I was in my third, apparently Houston had some scheduling mishap and never took History of Magic until then. Which really sucked.

"Why?" Daphne asked.

"Because, Houston and I hated each other. He was a bully. He picked on younger kids all of the time, but the day he picked on me in my first year, I stood up for myself.

"Anyways, back to that class with Hawthorne. He handed back the graded exams to Houston, and since I have this, 'eagle eye', people call it, I saw he failed his test. And I burst out with obnoxious laughter that rang out up and down the halls. Houston jerked around in his seat and glared at me as his lips twitched.

'Mr. Magpie, may I ask what is it you find that is so jocular?' Hawthorne asked.

"I thought about it for a moment. Did I announce to the world that Houston failed his exam? Or did I spare the trouble and not say a word? In that moment I remembered back to earlier in the week when Houston tripped a first year Wolveros student in the hallway who spilled all of his books and started crying because he was so embarrassed.

"Then I saw Houston take his thumb glide it horizontally over his neck while leering at me.

'Yeah, Professor Hawthorne. I'm laughing my arse off because Houston over there failed his exam in a third-year level course,' I hollered.

'Rollie. Why don't you see me at the end of the school day,' Hawthorne said in a grave tone.

"So the rest of my classes went by, and even though Houston threatened me with a non-verbal gesture, I didn't see him at all. But I went into Hawthorne's class expecting two hour detention on Saturday morning, that's what he usually gave me for any sort of misbehavior.

'Sit down, at my desk chair please, Mr. Magpie,' Hawthorne said as soon as I strolled in.

'Sure,' I said, taking a seat where his desk was. It was a black cushiony victorian type of chair, one that royalty would have in a guest room. I thought it was strange, he made me sit in the comfiest chair while he was pacing back and forth in front of me, with a fire brewing in his eyes.

'I don't know what it is with kids these days. I'm not even that old of a man, just a 45-year-old professor, pretty young by all standards. But punks like you who defy the traditions of Huntshrow make me sick. Colored hair used to be banned in the school but then fifteen years ago, they started allowing it to my great disappointment. Rollie, that green hair of yours makes me sick. I hate that it represents a much larger problem: kids got their way because they threw a temper tantrum so now the whole school allows such lunacy. Rollie, that denim jacket with those deplorable patches makes me sick. This ridiculous notion of children expressing themselves in such fashion is idiotic and distracting from the real reason why they are here, to become wizards and witches. They should wear robes at all times, including weekends,' he stopped his pacing and glared at me. 'Rollie, I loathe your behavior, you are the ultimate problem student. If I could, I would deduct points from Wolveros every day that you show up to my class because I hate the sight of you and your stupid mischievous grin. And today I almost exploded with screaming when you made light of Houston's exam.'

'I was just evening the score, you missed Houston making a first year cry earlier in the week,' I said with my heart thudding in my head.

"His eyes were bouncing around in every direction. His hands were trembling. I shifted in my seat and analyzed all of the ways I could escape from his classroom. He crept up to me with one eye twitching and the other bulging out. His hand dug into his robes and he ripped it away with his wand equipped. He gave it the tiniest flick and ropes came out from the chair to tie my hands and feet down.

'Professor Hawthorne!' I shrieked.

"His eyebrows lifted up while his tongue licked his lips looking like a fish out of water. A sweltering rush of pain pummeled my eye as everything went black for a moment, the opposite of a lightning strike but the same speed. The blunt force of another haymaker exploded on the other side of my face. A blast to my jaw sent my head rocking as I spat out a puddle of blood and saliva. The last thing I remember seeing was Hawthorne's fist in the air like a victorious fighter after another uppercut to the chin.

"I woke up in the hospital wing of Huntshrow where the healer said 'Rollie, I know you like to keep your black eyes usually, but headmaster Pine has requested I clean them up for you. He doesn't want too much attention drawn to this incident.'

"She told me how I blacked out, and the headmaster Wendell Pine stopped Hawthorne from continuing his attack. A whole investigation was launched. Hawthorne was forced to resign, but when he took the veritaserum, it was revealed he had no intention of every physically harming me, but instead someone placed the Imperius Curse on him. Huntshrow still forced him to resign, citing an incident like that was likely to happen again since he couldn't defend against it the first time. And now, just two years later, he's in my life again at Hogwarts," I burst into tears.