Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine!
Red by Rockinfaerie
The Disciplinarian
“This cannot continue!”
Minerva was furious. She slammed the door of her office and strode past the two teenage boys who stood resolutely straight-backed by the wall. The May sunshine was glaring through the narrow windows, making her desk gleam, and with a flick of her wand produced several notation and detention slips from the drawer, bundled neatly together, a most common sight for Sirius Black and James Potter.
Twice, already that week, they had been hauled into offices due to their astounding misconduct in school corridors. Hexing, dung-bombing, jinxing… every school offence under the sun had been fulfilled by that duo “ supported, she had no doubt, by several friends, or the crowd of girls that seemed to follow them everywhere. The odd trick she could tolerate, but such behaviour, which was both unproductive and extremely disruptive to other students, had to be stopped.
She was certain they had spent more of their Hogwarts education in detention than in class, and more time out of bed than in. Other members of the faculty had informed her of their conduct outside her classroom, and at each report she was rendered ashamed that she considered them her top students. For apart from the homework she set for them, they did none, and rarely showed up at study sessions in the library. It seemed they had an endless supply of fireworks to set off at the most inappropriate of times; they did not treat many members of the staff with respect, and flirted dangerously with Wizarding Law when it came to some of their spells. And yet, when exam time came around, as it would next month, they were the two students who always got the best results.
Her colleagues had maintained that it was only she who could control them. They wanted her to discipline them, to make them see sense. Black and Potter respected her, and it was true. She rarely had to correct them in her own lessons, and so far, in her office, she had heard neither make a smart remark, or stifled laughter, or seen their eyes roll arrogantly, as she had observed in their attitude towards other teachers.
But even her office was too frequent a visit for them. They stood before her silently, almost casually, ready for the usual detentions or deprivations. Neither avoided her eye, and there was something very defiant about James Potter’s expression. He stood the straightest, accustomed to good posture, and his shirt collar was neat, the tie pulled down slightly, and in spite of his messy hair was better presented than his best friend.
Sirius Black rebelled in every way he possibly could, including his uniform. The hems of his robes were scuffed, and his tie hung open around his shoulders. His sleek hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his shirt peered out from under his sweater. James’ sleeves were rolled up about his elbows; a sure sign he had been up to something. They stood slightly apart from each other, but still united, and Minerva knew that either youth would refuse to be punished on lesser terms than the other.
It was a very frequent and quite forgivable assumption, made by new teachers, that they were brothers. They shared the raven-black hair, pale complexion and red lips, good looks, arrogant demeanour, and talent that made the theory very plausible. Both Pure-bloods, both privileged, outspoken and charming. But in truth, their families differed greatly.
The Blacks, it was well known, took enormous pride in the length of their ancient bloodline and tradition of Slytherin housing. Sirius Black had been an exception when he was sorted into her house, and never was seen to even converse with his many cousins in Slytherin. Black’s rebellion did not apparently stop and start at King’s Cross “ she had heard rumours of a falling-out between him and his parents, and it had not gone unnoticed that he and his comrades barely acknowledged his younger brother, Regulus.
Horace Slughorn often said that James Potter displayed all the symptoms of an overdose of Felix Felicis “ he had never taken to the boy very much. While she disagreed, it could not be denied that Potter was significantly more privileged than most of his schoolmates. Wealth, social position, talent and athletic prowess had never been his choice, but the most admirable thing she had found in her acquaintance with the boy was his tolerance for others. His regard for his peers had little to do with their own standing on the ladder, or their family’s wealth, she had seen. She had seen also, the positive affect this had had, over the years, on Sirius Black, who might have otherwise accepted his family mantra that all others were inferior to him. As a result, the victims of their menace never appeared to have any particular trait that linked them.
It was highly frustrating for her, to see two such bright boys waste their potential wreaking senseless havoc in the school corridors. They had both launched at a fellow sixth-year named Severus Snape “ a Slytherin, and a frequent target of theirs. Flitwick had brought them to her, exasperated, and she had angrily consented that it was up to her to punish the troublemakers.
She drew a scarlet quill from her robe pocket, and began to fill out the yellow sheets, informing their parents of their misconduct. The scratches on the parchment echoed in her noiseless office. The letters folded and sealed themselves into separate envelopes, and she looked up to see Potter eyeing one sadly. He quickly looked away from her, his defiant expression returning. He always acted defiant, as though it was perfectly in his right to act above school rules.
Minerva allowed the silence to drag on for a few more minutes. She knew it was more effective than yelling at them. Up close, she noticed that they were tired “ there were dark circles under their eyes. They were growing uncomfortable. Black folded his arms. Bracing himself.
“Sixth years!” she began. “I cannot believe it. Senselessly attacking other students in corridors “ Potter, Black “ I thought you had grown out of such immaturity. To think, that younger years follow your example -”
“It was not senseless!” Potter shot back, scowling, though appearing to restrain himself in her presence.
She raised her eyebrows, daring him to proceed. Outside the door, the rustling of cloaks had quietened “ classes had started again.
“And I believe Remus Lupin was there also?” she queried. “Where is he now?”
“No, not Remus,” Black said quickly. “He had nothing to do with it.”
“Really?” she asked, her anger giving way to slight curiosity, though she had absolutely no inclination to show it. “Then what, pray tell, happened?”
They fell silent, apparently unwilling to divulge this information. Minerva waited patiently, and watched them as their discomfort returned.
“Please, do sit down “ we have all day,” she said bluntly, but rather than acknowledge the sarcasm in her tone both boys instantly complied, seating themselves in the armchairs by her empty fireplace.
“Snape,” James sighed angrily, staring away from her and out the window, where the trees of the Forbidden Forest were a healthy green, and where the Whomping Willow, as the students had dubbed it, swayed innocently in the early summer breeze. Sirius nodded, matching James’ scowl.
“Professor, he started it.” His light eyes flashed, and there was nothing childish about his expression. Minerva was instantly reminded of that night, several months before, when Sirius and James had stopped looking like children, when the animosity between their little gang and this particular Slytherin had been augmented.
“By doing what, Black? Elaborate please.”
Neither answered her. Growing impatient, Minerva rounded her desk and advanced towards them. James was restlessly tapping the velvet arm of the chair with his fingertips, and Sirius glared darkly at the bookcase.
“He wasn’t doing anything,” James said suddenly, defeated. His fingertips stopped.
“Ah,” she said, her frustration rising again. “So nothing justifies your actions?”
Sirius shrugged, and James just looked at her desk to where the yellow envelopes lay. Neither would look at her.
Minerva sighed.
“Detention, both of you.”
She could almost feel their relief as their audience with her appeared to be drawing to a close.
“Separate detentions, of course,” she said. “Every evening for the next two weeks.”
James looked up at her, horrified.
“Yes Potter, every evening for the next two weeks. I did not want to see you miss any Quidditch training between now and the final either. But perhaps you should have thought of the consequences of your actions before you attacked Severus Snape.”
He glared at her desk again.
“And if I ever, ever hear one more utterance about your misconduct this term, the consequences will be much, much worse than a few weeks of detention and an unrehearsed Quidditch final. Do I make myself clear?”
They nodded glumly.
“Black, you are late for Charms. Flitwick knows what kept you. Potter, wait a moment.”
Sirius sighed, lifted his books from her desk, and went to the door. With a knowing glance at James, he walked, and closed the door quietly behind him.
Minerva sat down in the liberated seat, opposite James, her lips pursed. He looked up at her, his glasses glinting in the bright sunlight. He sat up straighter, as though preparing himself for another rebuttal. But when it came, he seemed oddly taken aback at Minerva's more gentle tone.
“I know it has been a difficult term for you, but there is no way you can continue to vent your feelings on someone undeserving of “”
James looked strongly as if he was about to protest, but seemed to think better of it.
“If you’re feeling angry, talk to someone “”
He gripped his seat very tightly, and she thought she saw a brief shake of his head.
“Snape is obsessed with the Dark Arts,” he said quietly.”
Minerva sat back, allowing the subsequent silence to linger. James watched her intently, and she knew instantly that he felt the unprovoked attack was justified.
It was an accepted truth among the staff, that there was a growing number of students, mainly in older years, becoming negatively influenced by the reign of terror that had been inflicted on the nation. They saw black magic as a power to manipulate, a fearful power, an influence over peers that could not be gained through popularity or wealth. Every night Madam Pince discovered yet another volume stolen from the Restricted Section of the library.
There was a cold presence of disinterest in lessons now, as though the students were secretly learning of something they considered more important. Many did not openly profess their support, and agnosticism and indifference prevailed in classrooms, in particular among wealthier, Pure-blood families. There were whispered quotes and insults in the corridors, and teenage brawls had become increasingly violent “ James Potter and Sirius Black were certainly not the only students to be routinely hauled into offices. But her colleagues were far more taken up with the darkness spreading in the world outside Hogwarts, to realise that it had taken root before their very eyes.
Deep down, she knew it could not be controlled. There was no possible way to sway them. She merely tried to direct, to guide, and was hugely thankful when she saw that a student was firmly opposed to the Dark ethos. James, though he could act spoiled and selfish, was one of that few.
“Severus Snape's interests are of no concern for you,” she told him, walking to her desk again. She turned to him, and he looked up at her, still defiant, but curious. “And I hope they never will be,” she added sternly.
“Definitely not,” he replied resolutely.
“And do you believe, Potter, that fire can be fought with fire? Is one person’s violent action enough to quell another?”
He was silent again. Each looked away, studying their respective opinions and experiences that made them go against what so many others horribly embraced.
The sky had clouded over, dulling the office walls, and a wind was weaving through the forest. Minerva knew that James was thinking the same as her “ when would it end? Would her students ever know a day when the newspapers did not present another grim headline, when smiles were not forced, and peers could be fully trusted? Or would their world continued to crumble, leaving nothing to flourish but the vilest creatures and most hateful spells? For once, Minerva did not know the answer.
Hogwarts was an ancient fortress, and was therefore unaffected by the Giants and dragons that routinely tore apart Muggle dwellings. She did not know if the fear would ever stop, if people would always be afraid to leave their homes. She did not know if some day people would speak freely, not having to carefully watch what was said. The Ministry was in disarray. It could not cope with the attacks. The death of James’ father had been a huge blow “ he had been one of the few competent advisors, and many of his colleagues had since fled. And all the time families were torn apart “ brothers and sisters on opposite sides, killing each other, controlling each other. This could not continue…
“Professor?” he asked, awaking her from her reverie. “I have to go. You know, I'm late for Charms... ”
“Yes, yes,” she said, growing business-like once more. “You and Black are to report to me after dinner to organise the detentions.”
James lifted up his stack of books, and with a quick nod to her, left the office. Though the door shut firmly behind him, she knew, rather than assumed, that Sirius had been there, waiting patiently for his emergence. She listened closely to the two pairs of youthful, energetic footsteps, fading away as they walked together to Charms.
So that's Chapter 15 - it's getting quite long now. Tell me what you think!