Even before the astronomy Professor started to talk, Ewan could feel the tension in the room start to grow. Or maybe it was just his own sense of dread? Either way, as the Professor stood and slammed her book shut with a velocity that matched that of a muggle plane taking off, he could sense that something was coming his way.

With his eyes still down on the brush in his right hand, he simply listened for a moment, focusing on the rhythm of the brush strokes. Up and down, Up and down as she spoke, giving her side of events. Truthfully, he didn’t really have a problem with what she had said for the most part because it was her opinion. Sure, he had raised his voice. There was no denying that. Had he made a scene? Potentially. Inspired other people to disrupt the lesson? Okay, that was a bit far, although he couldn’t exactly judge that seeing as he’d left so he’d just have to take her word for it.

Was he being a martyr though? Hardly. He was simply standing up for something he believed in. That didn’t make him a martyr. That simply made him someone with principles. Someone who wasn’t willing to back down in the face of animosity and he was about to tell the Professor and Headmaster exactly this. Until she had gone one step too far. Had pushed too much.

Dropping the toothbrush to the floor, he stood up, instantly turning towards the Professor as he brought himself up to his full height, his stomach tensed for what was inevitably about to happen. How could she know that she had struck a nerve, mentioning that he was “never taught the difference”? What were the chances that any of the teachers knew that he never had anyone to teach him at all? And that for the longest of times, he’d spent days and months on his own on the streets or sofa surfing from house to house?

The pain that now emanated across his face was clear and obvious. It wreaked of hurt and anguish, of pain and hurt. This was a wound inflicted by a teacher. Someone he was supposed to trust. Someone he was meant to go to in times of need. “Taught the difference?” he replied finally, his eyes ablaze as though someone had cast incendio on them. “What do you know about what I’ve been taught? You don’t know anything about me.” he continued, doing his best to cover up the hurt in his voice.

“You stand there with your book assuming I’m throwing a tantrum but you still haven’t really listened to a word I’ve said. Not once have you asked me why I had my head down on the table or why I was so quick to raise my voice in your lesson I’ve clearly never done anything remotely close to that in any lesson before” the words just flowing from him now. Some might call it verbal diarrhoea. “You’re just assuming, what, that I was just out to disrupt your lesson for no reason? No. I’d never do that. I didn’t even do that when we had that awful headteacher a few years ago who made a go jogging every morning!” Although he didn’t really mind that part, not that he would mention this.

“And now you just insult me? Sweet. Good teaching. First class” jutting out his jaw slightly in an attempt to bite back what he really wanted to say, he just starred daggers at her for a moment, too incensed to move. He was about to lose his prefects badge and quite possibly his place at Hogwarts and he knew it but he didn’t care. Not anymore.