Chapter Four : Punishment is Severe

Pomona saunters the hallway where the headmistress stood. Minerva was peeping at the glass window watching the joint exercises happening down below.

"Do you think it is wise allowing the students to go through such punishment?" The head of the Hufflepuff house asked her worriedly, following her gaze. "Isn't it too much? And what will the board of directors say if they find out?"

Minerva gave her a quick glance, and with a smile, she replied, "you forgot who their teacher is, Pomona. The boy is the head of the governors themselves. Why would they go against someone who has absolute control over their influence?"

The plump woman threw skeptical looks at the chuckling headmistress.

"Now, now, dear. Calm down." Minerva went on. "He personally sought my opinion before he laid down those tasks. Besides, don't you think it's about time, we do something to develop the children's physical abilities? We've been focused on nurturing their magical core that we forgot the other aspects."

With a sigh, she conceded. Although she had to admit the idea was brilliant. "I just wish he won't be too harsh to my badgers," said the nervous Herbology Professor.

One last glance at the window and McGonagall swirls around. She looked satisfied with the outcome. Her robes flutter in the air as she walked. Her head held high showing her regal poise. "I can't promise you that, Pomona." She told her, striding alongside the woman across the corridor. "You know the ones who started this whole mess came majorly from our own."

Pomona defeatedly nods. She could feel both of her shoulders sag. More than thirty Hufflepuffs were found guilty after the questioning they've made. The house of badgers had the greatest number of culprits compared to the Lions who got twenty to twenty-eight. She could only watch her students with concern as Harry made them run in circles under the heat of the sun for almost thirty minutes and still counting.

"I don't hear anybody yelling numbers! LOUDER!"

"Forty-seven… forty-eight… forty-nine…"

"You're not synced. Do it again!"

WHAT?! Again?!

"Unless you do it altogether, you will stay here until midnight and nobody would care! Now, on the count!"

"One… two… three… four… twenty-five… twenty-six…"

"My legs are sore. I can't do this anymore!"

"How many rounds do we still need to go over?"

"Be quiet and count properly! If you don't want your legs be dislodged off your arse, I want this to be done with!"

"Does he know he's torturing us?"

"That's the idea, Maynard."

"Professor! Angelica fainted!"

"Take her to the infirmary, Amelia." Harry snarled. "The rest of you, continue. Don't try to fool me by pretending to fall or get sick or I'll make you run again in circles five times than you already did!"

There's a bunch of horror written across everyone's face.

"I swear, mate. Whoever posted those photos would never see daylight once we're done here."

"That is if the others haven't hexed the hell out of them yet."

"Geez! How come you looked so relaxed?"

A smirk – a mere of a response is all what he'd got.

Two Gryffindors are talking among themselves whilst catching their breaths. With them are the rest of the fourth and fifth-years from all four houses running around the Quidditch Pitch.

It was part of the lesson – they were told. But they knew better they were castigated by their ruthless Defense Professor. Harry was barking here and there spitting military commands to their faces treating them like newly-trained Aurors.

They woke up to a nightmare down the Great Hall in the form of Grey T-shirts and blue shorts – hundreds of them along with a pair of trainers that magically fit to the size of their soles. Their jaws nearly dropped when they were told they're supposed to put them on.

"One important key to a wizard's strong defense system is his physical condition." He lectured as he walks back and forth to explain the new lesson he designed for them, all years included.

"I will be testing your strength, your speed, and your agility based on the development you will be gaining from this task. We don't expect you to be as fast as the Aurors but we don't want to end up with a crowd of idiots in times of a raging war –" he raises a hand to halt any attempts of protest before they can even start. "This is something you need not to worry about. Although, the main point here is to make you fit and ready at all cost."

He ended his short-lecture with a Marauder grin flashing a new reign of terror in the making.

Bollocks… it's their punishment. They knew it!

Sadly, there are still some of them who wanted to push their limits in testing his patience. Now, the entire school is about to suffer the consequence.

Well, this is what really happened. They may have misunderstood the 'lesson' they would have learned from the wrath the seventh years have gotten on their first day of term.

Harry's instructions were clear. His body's details are off-limits from their prying eyes especially when he's teaching.

But who could blame them?

It's just that their new professor is so young, hot, and irresistible. The fact that he is also their savior, their hero… someone who would turn up when a damsel in distress trips and falls while walking across the road, has the body that can rival the gods and a face that can melt the toughest of the giants.

Girls and boys alike just can't get enough thinking about their Professor Potter-Black, a name synonymous to snogs and shags.

To make matters worse, Harry met the new generation of Collin Creeveys in school. They are Hufflepuffs secretly taking photos of him while the man is distracted doing something, per say, writing on the board. They'll be dead if they get caught but it's worth the risk, they'd thought. And then, they would post the pictures on two of the latest social media platforms in the wizarding community called "Twitchers" and "Wizdagram" – a hundred times more terrible than the Daily Prophet has been.

Five years ago, a magical version of the smartphone was introduced to the wizarding world thanks to the genius of the father-and-son Weasleys named, Arthur and George. The device was called, the 'Fellytone' which was inspired from a past experience, according to them – to Harry's amusement. The sudden breakthrough has catapulted their family's worth from Galleons to Millions in a span of a few months. In a snap, there's a huge change in the social life among witches and wizards. Everything remained magical but it also meant the spread of gossips to move faster than the normal.

And most unfortunately, Harry turns out to be the best target.

The young man nearly spat the tea he was having the moment he sees his photo taken from inside the classroom and other stolen shots posted on the media public page. There's another photo of him facing the other side showing his bum's prominent curves as well as he, Harry, having meals in the Great Hall. Not to mention, some moving pictures of him walking down the corridor.

Still unsatisfied, the insolent prats also posted a snapshot of him jogging around the castle grounds wearing nothing on top. Thus, exposing those muscles in his chests and abs.

Harry could only shove his face into his hands hiding in embarrassment as soon as he realized that the photos had resulted to more than a thousand shares and one million likes, cringing at the realization that he just got his bum exposed in front of everyone! Even outside of Britain.

The caption branded him as, "The sexiest Hogwarts Teacher in a century!"

Oh! How he prayed the earth would swallow him whole when he'd read the notes in the comments section. Some of them even came from people he knew of.

Vicky Krum: Nice arse you've got 'zer, Potter.

Gred Weasley: Spanking dazzling, Harry! Marry me now!

FleurDW: Oh, 'arry. 'eev you ver thiz sexy vith out Veela blood, 'ow much more 'eev you really do 'ave?

HGWeasley: HARRY JAMES POTTER! You better show up at the Burrow on Sunday Dinner or I'll post your baby photo in your birthday suit! Mark my words! (38K likes)

Gred Weasley: Hermione, DM me asap!

Vicky Krum: I've sent you a private message, Hermownini.

The comments went on until he couldn't take reading them anymore. His crazy friends are either making fun of him or declaring their fake marriage proposals to him in public, complimenting his nice body in every detail they could get.

The last straw was drawn as soon as those pictures were leaked in the weekly edition of the Daily Prophet.

Which is why the following day, the students were horrorstruck to find their teacher in such a foul mood that he accio-ed all their phones and lectured them about the new policy he's implementing where all phones are to be deposited in a rack under his desk and will only be returned once the class ended.

"Two down! Rogers, stay out of the line and go sit there under the shade. You are not to leave until the whole class is dismissed. The rest of you, continue running!" The raven-haired young man roared superiorly at them.

The copper-haired Slytherin marched gruffly into the large tent where a few volunteers from the infirmary ushered him to take a seat. A glass of water was handed for him to drink.

"Blimey! He won't stop until all of us are gonna get killed!" Another student who was pushed by his friend to keep on going huffed exasperatedly.

The boy beside him who has been keeping his cool this whole time grumbled, "seven o'clock tonight. Meet you at the common room. We are hexing those dunderheads who have put us all in this trouble!"

Charlie Weasley amusingly watches the revolting view in front of him. He snickered in silence listening to every student whining their agony as if they were put under the Cruciatus curse.

Honestly, he'd like to stick his tongue out right at their faces and tell them, 'serves you right' for their spoiled behavior. This was despite the disapproval of some of the faculty members with the way they were treated. Surprisingly, the Malfoy blonde wasn't one of them. He even joked about suspending people in midair in iron chains which he approves in secret.

Those kids are going too far in stepping over a teacher's privacy. Forget that it's a Lord of the House they are disrespecting and can damage the reputation of their families.

The red-haired man consciencelessly enjoyed the sight of teenage girls and boys falling one by one. Too weak and too tired to carry on. This only proves that a large portion of their education was neglected, mostly when it comes to their health. What they're doing – running in multiple laps, doing curl-ups and push-ups has not even reached a percentage of the type of physical training he had undergone when he applied for the job in the dragon reserve. He's talking about bone breaking, head crushing type of exercise that no one, witch or wizard with a weak stamina can surpass.

Scratch that.

He liked the idea that they were punished for being arrogant prats.

How dare them take a picture of the man he had wanted for ages?

Yeah… Poor, old, sappy Charlie Weasley falling for the Great Harry Potter. As if he'd have the chance to tame the heart of the handsome aristocrat. Not even his sister, Ginny. Oh! The fair woman she is had failed. How does it make him any different? A beefy, scarred retired dragon-handler living in a cottage?

Yes, poor man indeed. The Care for Magical Creatures Professor could simply content himself to watching young Harry wherever he went. The fact that he's walking back and forth in front of him right now, his arse in full display doesn't help. Charlie had been flouting on those lousy competitors with his fingers itching to wrap them around their throat.

His jealous animal instinct is kicking in, despite the absence of any rights to claim Harry as his.

Those perverts! The raven-haired young man has his authoritative tone in full force and yet those shameless bastards from the higher years are drooling audaciously at his bum!

Merlin help him!

If the gods take pity and grant him his wish, (there's nothing wrong in dreaming, isn't it?) he may have to convince him into getting rid of those sleeveless tunic and tight breeches which Harry had given proper justice.

Charlie is not the modern nor the old-fashioned type of a person. He would prefer the outdoors and picnics the way he wanted to woo that someone he wanted to be with than lust over him by means of the latest gadgets.

Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that he's been hiding some bits of extravagance as far as communication is concerned. 's no wonder he'd kept his own smartphone inside the drawers of his closet. He may also have to admit that the same device alerted him when he saw the photos of the man of his dreams were posted, eyes widened in both lust and outrage after he saw the million likes and comments beneath the caption as if those pictures contain a rare species of bird they are ogling inside a cage.

He felt worried for him. He knew, despite his popularity and the man's incredible ways in coping it up, he hates his fame to the gut.

Then again, he's still a bloody mere mortal trying to reach for the star. And thus, out of his weakness, Charlie Weasley's finger tapped the save button and downloaded the photos to gawk at it on certain occasions – wrong! He's been fawning every night and day on those pictures! Every single one of them. Call him creepy but he just can't get enough of his Harry.

His Harry.

Yeah. His obsession is taking him to the edge of his limits. Heaven knows how long he was holding his breath the moment he heard him complaining about those magazines the students have been smuggling into the castle. While listening to his rants, Charlie had to squint his eyes under his bed where a purple box was very well-kept.

Nothing special. He just stored there his full collection of Harry's lewd pictures on every Witch Weekly Magazine's monthly cover. The dragon-tamer's face had turned Weasley-red in their entire conversation as he tried to look as casual as he could manage. Harry's definitely gonna kill him for keeping such kinds of stuff.

Now, Charlie's dilemma is to look for a bigger box where he can move those explicit materials. Those magazines are too precious to be shrunken just to fit the whole lot.

Sigh…

He couldn't help but wonder how much will it cost him if he purchased the entire publication for next month's release.

"MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

Harry mercilessly yelled at them as they struggle to sprint in circles. There was no special treatment given. Even the first years weren't exempted from his wrath including those who belong to his own house.

A sharp yelp of pain was heard behind the throng of second years. It was from a blonde Slytherin with long and sleek hair, not too tall, somewhere in the middle. His demeanor reminds him of Draco, but there's innocence in those eyes that are barely visible. He was one of those who dropped first after more than twenty minutes of running the marathon.

Harry was observing the kid until a first year Gryffindor approaches. From under the silver tipped quiff-cut hair peered a baby-faced kid of no more than fourteen. A bit taller than his age, he peered down and smiled at the sophomore in an attempt to be friendly, raising the defense professor's curiosity.

The boy looks up and was met by a hand held offered by the Junior Lion. He grimaced as soon as the former shifted his face from a smile to a sneer. "Seriously, Edwards? We're only on our third lap and you're giving up?" He teased.

"Shut up, Adams." The blonde retorted. "How many times do I have to tell you to get the heck away from me? Why are you even talking to me? I'm not making friends with you. Go away!"

The eavesdropping Harry lifted his brows while listening to the exchange of insults.

"Why? I keep asking you but you always refuse. I just wanted to make friends. You know."

"Go make friends somewhere else. Or have you forgotten that I'm a serpent?"

"Why would it matter? Houses don't suppose to make us different."

Blue eyes met brown, a foul slander comes out of the other boy's mouth. "You're different, Adams. We're far, far different." He drawled in an ice-cold tone.

The hurt was obvious on the young lion's face. It was blunt and strong but he chose to hide it in his cool and carefree sweetness.

Fuming. That's what Harry felt. He knew very well what the blonde had meant.

Adams is a werewolf. Another son of an alpha from a different pack. He was two years older than his peers since werewolves aren't allowed to go to Hogwarts before any of these. And it's with people like Edwards that Harry had been despising against for shunning them as if they were someone containing an infectious disease.

"Well, that doesn't mean I can't carry you when you can't walk." He smiled, choking.

The young Slytherin had lost his chance to throw another gnarl after hearing a loud bark from not too far. Looking back, he sees the raven-haired wizard, green-eyes flaring like the fearsome deadly curse. The color drained from his cheeks out of fear he might've been heard.

"Edwards! Adams!" Both boys faltered. "This is an individual task. You're not supposed to help each other to complete it. You work on your own. You, boy! Go back to the pitch. And you…" He snarled at the limping kid. "Go to the tent."

"Can I at least carry him there, sir? I can take two more laps for him too if that's needed." In a trembling voice, the first year offered. "He couldn't stand by himself." He quickly added.

"What did I just say, Milo?"

"Sorry, sir."

"Now, off you go."

"Yes sir!" the young Gryffindor hurried back into the grounds. Notwithstanding the blow he had gotten from his friend, he had slowly recovered and went speeding around in a fine attempt to finish more laps than Harry required. One thing that makes werewolves one step ahead of their game is their swiftness. They rival the vampires in speed explaining the lively Milo Adams rubbing cheerful vibes urging everyone to push further their limits.

A glow of pride gleamed up on Harry's face whilst watching the boy in headshaking amusement. A part of his scheme to educate these kids was not to belittle those who they think are inferior but rather look at them as equal. Someone they would treat like humans.

He whirled in the blonde's direction whose eyes are now focused on the lawn. He seemed to be contemplating in guilt over the words he sputtered earlier.

"I hope you didn't mean what you told him, Lewis." Harry chastises whilst the boy cowered in shame. "You hurt his feelings. He didn't deserve that."

He could hear silent mumbles from the young lad.

Harry knows.

He saw it among the Malfoys. They walk in pride and sees an apology as a mere sign of dishonor.

"You're a good boy, Lewis. I can see you don't hate him. But why do you have to act like he slaughtered your whole family or something?"

His eyes squinted. His mouth quivered. The sophomore student couldn't put the words he wanted to express.

"You should know better." Harry's voice is gentler this time. "I doubt you will find another friendship as beautiful as with Milo's, young man. Many people who were once your age have wasted their chance and regretted it… I hope you wouldn't do the same thing and end up in despair."

The boy fell silent. He fought the urge to glance at the hyperactive young man showing off his stealthy moves to his friends. Muttering, "git" under his breath, but what Harry could find in those eyes was nothing but fondness in them.

My… my… what's this? It looks like he'll be seeing a lot more between these two kids.

A feral grin draws up on Harry's handsome face. A master plan starts to cook up in his canny brain.

- Next Chapter -

Quidditch for the Overaged