Geoffrey Hunter and the Secret Society

by iwright

The students can hex you, their parents can curse you, your colleagues are all a little bit crazy, and a terrorist group wants to kill you. Other than that, being the new Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts is a pretty easy gig. Rated M for language.

22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

03:00 and the monsters come out.

You can't do this. What the Hell were you thinking? 'As a responsible educator I can't possibly turn this job down.' Pompous jackass. As a responsible adult you should have run screaming as soon as you found out it involved working with kids.

Kids. Look at you. God you're transparent. Apprentice? Replacement goldfish is more like it. Aveline's dead, get over it. Don't drag Shibley into your pathetic little psychodrama.

Shut up.

Witty. Maybe that's what Galilea sees in you. It sure ain't your self-control. Yelling at paintings. Threatening a thirteen year old girl for teasing a ghost. Freaking out at formal dinners.

Shut up.

You're talking to yourself, jackass. Again. You know what they say about people who hear voices. What do they say about people who hear flames talking? The shrink was right. Schizo. Professor Lestrange is right. All the Blacks are mental. Genetics. Bad blood.

Shut up.

Speaking of bad blood, how about those Purebloods, eh? You've read Uses Of Evisceration Curses During Famous Wizarding Duels. Every day is one day closer to the Entrail-Expelling Curse, courtesy of some outraged Pureblood who discovers that Professor Muggle-Filth is showering in the same bathroom as their kid. They'll go 'Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo' and you'll go *squirt*.

Shut up.

That's it? That's all you got? 'Shut up'? Is that what you're going to say when The One Hundred comes for you? Shut up. Yeah, that will work. I'm sure they'll think that's a brilliant argument. 'You're stealing magic!' Shut up. 'You're corrupting our youth!' Shut up. 'We're going to Crucio you to death!' Shut up. Forget those loons in The One Hundred, whatever the Hell that name means. This is exactly the kind of paranoid inward-looking echo-chamber society that produces lynch-mobs and, ha-ha, witch-hunts. Shut up won't cut it. When the Purebloods drag you down and start piling up the wood to do to you what they think happened to their ancestors what do you think you could possibly say to them that would make them stop?

I have your children.