"Every damn room and hallway looks exactly the same!" Tim ranted as he jogged down one of the halls at Hogwarts. There was no other way to put it – Tim was lost. But how could he not be? The place was a virtual labyrinth. There were trap doors, shifting staircases, faulty tiles, not to mention that the whole castle just seemed boundless, with the only difference between some of the floors being the colors of the tiles. It was lucky that Tim was quick on his feet – anyone in his position would've surely died already.
Tim slowed to a stop, sweat forming on his forehead. It wasn't that Tim was nervous. No, not at all. He just didn't want to be late. He was the teacher after all, and it wouldn't have looked good if he had've turned up later to his class than the students, who, those he watched, all seemed to know where they were supposed to be going. The students in Tim's class probably wouldn't take the class – or him – seriously, if he arrived to his own class late.
As Tim was no longer training, he decided to change up his appearance into something more comfortable, at least for him. Tim had brought his blazing orange hair out of its pony tail, letting the hair rest gently on both sides of his face. His gi pants were gone too, instead replaced by a shabby old pair of stonewashed jeans which happened to be ripped at the knees. He also wore a nice pair of black combat boots, just because he could.
He also, again, neglected wearing a shirt, not wanting to deprive any female students from gazing upon his absolutely gorgeous body.
Tim's clothing aside, he had to keep moving. Tim took a stab in the dark, looking to a random door, before running up to it, opening it, and going in.
It was a rather barren room. Two windows either side, and a portrait of an older fellow facing the door he came in from. Suddenly to Tim's surprise, the man in the portrait started speaking.
"Well I haven't seen you here before," A voice echoed throughout the room as the man in the portrait moved his lips to match the words. "You must be the new member of staff. I heard you gave Severus a run for his money the other day."
"That's true. I did." Tim spoke, his eyes on the portrait.
"It's been so long since anyone's come in here and spoken to me." The voice rambled.
"Yeah, well if the only thing in here was a portrait, I'd be hard-pressed to find a reason to come in here…" Tim muttered. "Look, I'm gonna go now, got a class to teach, and talking to a painting's not really my thing."
"Ah, yes. You're teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, aren't you?"
"That's right." Tim said. "Only I can't find the bloody classroom. Everybody's giving me conflicting information. Some people are telling me it's class thirty-one on the second floor, others are saying it's on the third floor. You wouldn't happen to know where the classroom is, would you?"
"Ah, I would indeed. The classroom changes almost every year. This year it's across from the Potions classroom down in the dungeon."
"The dungeon…" Tim muttered. "And how would I get to the dungeon from here?"
"Oh, that's easy! You just head through the door opposite to mine in the Entrance Hall, follow the corridor, head into the next room, and go west from there. The door to the classroom should be cloaked in a green hue, you can't miss it."
Tim nodded, going through the directions in his head. "Right. Well, thanks…"
"Off you go then. But be careful, there are some odd creatures about." The portrait warned.
"Nothing I shouldn't be able to handle…" Tim smirked, turning and walking out of the portrait room.
Tim stood at the front of the room, his back turned as he scribbled notes from a textbook, a staff copy of Quentin Trimble's 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection', onto the blackboard. Tim had taken the time he had before anybody showed up to reorganize the room, as he'd found it to be a little disorienting. There had been empty cages placed all around the room, and almost the entire dungeon area where the classroom was located reeked of garlic. Naturally, Tim got rid of all of that, heading across the floor to take desks and chairs from the Potions classroom.
By the time he'd fixed up the classroom, only one student, a young brunette girl, had arrived, and had found a seat at the very front of the class. Tim continued writing notes onto the blackboard in silence.
"Excuse me," the girl called.
"Yes?" Tim asked, not bothering to turn to the girl.
"You used defense instead of defence. I mean, um… with the spelling. You used the American spelling…"
"That so…?" Tim cringed, taking the chalk in his hand and crushing it.
"Well, we are in Scotland after all. It would make sense to use local spelling."
Tim turned around, not at all enjoying being talked down to by a student. His anger though, dissipated almost immediately when he saw who it was that was sitting in front of him. Though it wasn't so much who it was, but more so who it reminded Tim of.
"Oh…" Tim muttered, clearing his throat. "To be honest, I've never done this teaching thing before, and I tend to forget sometimes what regions use what spelling. I've been to quite a few different places over the years…"
"Oh, that's right! You're that new Mu…" the girl trailed off.
"Muggle…?" Tim asked.
"Y-yes…" She replied nervously.
"Have you got a problem that?" Tim asked, doing his best to keep any aggression out of his voice.
"Not at all. My parents are Muggles." The girl smiled warmly, regaining some of her composure.
"That's nice, hopefully you won't be too hard on me then…" Tim mumbled, turning back to his notes on the blackboard. "I suppose I can mark you as present on the class roll. You are…?"
"Ooh! Hermione Granger, sir."
"Okay…" Tim uttered, marking Hermione's name on the roll. "You are here, and… I guess, just, um… sit quietly until class begins."
Hermione nodded, Tim turning back to the blackboard, getting a new piece of chalk as he continued to write his notes. It would only take a few more minutes before Tim could hear students walking into the class, filing into seats and chatting with each other. It was the conversation of two Gryffindor students sitting up the front near Hermione that caught Tim's attention.
"E-excuse me… do you mind if I sit here?"
"Not at all."
"Thanks. Us Gryffindor kids should stick together."
"Good idea."
"Hey, wait… You're that Potter kid aren't you? Harry Potter! Is it true you've seen You-Know-Who? Can you show me the scar?"
"'You-Know-Who'…?" Tim asked quietly to himself.
"Blimey! You're really him!"
"Y-yeah…" Harry muttered sheepishly.
"You must know heaps of spells!"
"N-not really…"
"What's You-Know-Who look like?"
"I, um… I don't…" the other boy's voice trailed.
Suddenly there was a new voice mixed in with the other two, the tone of a stuck-up preppy kid.
"Oh, hello! What do we have here? Red hair… a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley!" A blond boy smirked.
Tim turned from the board in a seething rage, dragging the boy away from Harry's desk, where he'd been standing, to the front of the class. "Have you got a problem with red hair!?" Tim asked.
"N-no, sir…" the boy meekly replied, his former bravado no longer present.
"Good… What's your name?"
"Draco Malfoy."
"Well Draco, that's your first and only warning. Sit down!" Tim ordered, Draco returning to his seat. "Next time… you don't wanna know what happens next time…" Tim breathed. "Okay! Morning everyone. My name is Legit Professor Tim Ihansha, and this is Defense Against the Dark Arts for first-year students." Tim stopped, the hand of a student, one Seamus Finnigan, rising into the air. "Yes?"
"Is that a Japanese surname?" Seamus asked.
"Yes." Tim quickly answered.
"Are you Japanese?"
"Do I look Japanese?"
"No, sir."
"Well there's your answer. Now since you're first year students, we won't be getting into too much of the hardcore stuff. So-" Tim stopped, his head turning to Draco, who was whispering something to his friend. "You." He said sternly, the rest of the class turning to focus on Draco. "Stand up."
"What?" Draco asked.
"You heard me. Get up." Tim repeated. Draco's face formed an expression as if to mock Tim, before getting up out of his seat. "Right, now, attack me."
Draco started laughing. "You can't be serious…"
"If you're talking in class, then you must already know some offensive magic. So come on then! Hit me with your best shot!" Tim taunted.
Draco laughed again, thinking perhaps he might be able to show off to his fellow classmates and humiliate the teacher. "Alright. If you're serious. I'll have you flat on the ground and begging for mercy before you even know it!" Draco's eyes narrowed. "Flipendo!" he shouted, pointing his wand at Tim.
Tim charged forward, not only taking the jinx head-on, but grabbing Draco by the throat and pinning him against the wall.
Draco struggled to breathe as the class looked on with a mixture of shock, amazement, and horror. Tim tightened his grip just a little. "You'll have me on the ground, will you?!" Tim snapped.
Two of Draco's friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, rose from their seats to come to Draco's aid, but Tim knocked them down with a single hand between the both of them. Tim kept his eyes on Draco as his face started to change color, Tim denying Draco's body the right to breathe.
Some of the class, mostly Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students, yelled encouragement to Tim. In a moment of pity, Tim ripped his hand away, Draco dropping to the ground, coughing and spluttering. Tim turned to face the rest of the class. "Y… You filthy Muggle! Just wait until my father hears about this!" Draco spat. Tim's body jerked, moving back to face Draco and kicking him in the face, breaking his nose and taking out a few of his teeth.
"Tell your father he raised a brat of a son." Tim knelt down, knocking Draco, Crabbe and Goyle unconscious. Silence hung in the air for a long while until Tim sighed, a calm expression across his face. "Right! Young Draco here just demonstrated the Flipendo Knockback Jinx, which is what we'll be learning first. Everybody, please turn to page ten in your textbooks."
"S-sir?" one of the other students, a Hufflepuff named Wayne Hopkins, asked, a hand raised in question.
"Anybody who assists any of the three boys or suggests they be taken to the Hospital Wing will have House Points taken away from their respective Houses. Just ignore them and focus on what's in front of you." Tim simply said, walking from the three boys back to the front of the class, turning to face the blackboard once more. "Okay, so…"
"With all due respect, sir, I don't really understand how you can be teaching us magic with you being a Muggle."
Tim turned from the board once more, his eyes locking onto one Ernest Macmillan. "Right. Do you wanna end up like Draco and his buddies?"
"N-no, sir!"
"Then you might want to stop calling me a Muggle. You can't use that word, only we can use that word! Is that clear?"
"Y-yes, sir…"
"All of you! Is that clear?!" Tim shouted, this time addressing the class.
The class, excluding Draco, Crabbe and Goyle for obvious reasons, nodded. "Yes, sir."
Tim noticed Hermione giving him a warm smile. Tim smiled right back. "Alright then…"
Outside of his class with the first-years, Tim got no lip or backchat from other students. In fact, most of the other students he taught just came in, did whatever work Tim set for them with no complaints and then left. The only troublesome students he came across were two third-year students, twins Fred and George Weasley, but even then they weren't troublesome to the extent that Draco had been.
Rumors were going around that they'd hidden various items like a Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick and apparently rare Famous Witches and Wizards Cards behind various portraits all throughout Hogwarts, not that that meant anything to Tim. The issue was that they were getting people to collect Bertie Bott's Beans in return for getting the passwords for the portraits. Because of this, many of the students in Fred and George's year weren't really getting any work done, and Tim's class wasn't really an exception.
Aside from that, there were no issues at all, and Tim thought that his first day as a teacher at Hogwarts had gone pretty well. He sighed, deciding against packing things away and just having the classroom locked. As Tim was about to lock up the classroom, three students appeared by the door.
"Draco…" Tim muttered. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking over at the boy, not giving any attention to his cronies.
Draco's face was full of malice and scorn, entering the classroom with heavy feet. "You know why I'm here! You humiliated me! Well guess what: This time, the students are going to teach you a lesson, Muggle!" Draco shouted. "You're going to learn about Wizard Crackers!"
"'Wizard Crackers'?" Tim asked.
"That's right! You're not leaving this classroom until I have my revenge! Crabbe! Goyle! Let's go!" Draco ordered. Crabbe and Goyle both nodded, moving in from the door and over to both ends of the classroom.
"That so?" Tim mulled. The three boys each dropped the bags on their backs to the floor beside them, opening them up and each retrieving a Christmas cracker from them before throwing them at Tim. Tim caught the cracker that Draco threw, the other two landing to either side of him. "Okay…? And this-" He was cut off as the other two crackers started flashing and then exploded, blinding him for half a second.
Had Tim been any other Muggle, he would've been burnt, possibly bruised or stung, depending on what exactly was inside the crackers, but Tim wasn't one to let a simple Christmas cracker hurt him, even if it may have contained some kind of concentrated explosion.
"That's your first and only warning, boys. Let's not do this again." Tim sighed. All three boys just reached down into their bags to retrieve more Wizard Crackers. "Fine…" Tim muttered, assuming a shallow-standing squat. "You were warned…!"
Tim charged, knocking all three boys to the ground. Then, Tim quickly went around, retrieving all the Wizard Crackers he could carry, ripping them open and pouring out whatever contents hadn't exploded over the three boys' bodies. Sparks of fire rained down on the Slytherin trio, causing them to thrash about in pain. Finally, Tim stomped down on Draco's crotch with his combat boots, ruining any chance Draco had of raising a family in the future.
Draco let out a bloodcurdling scream, his prepubescent voice almost music to Tim's ears. Satisfied, Tim dragged Crabbe and Goyle back over to Draco and then leaned down to the boys.
"I'm taking fifteen House Points from Slytherin. Be grateful that's all I'm taking from you, you spoiled brats." Tim snickered, before spitting on Goyle.
