Aaaand one more Johnnish bit.
Oct. 23rd, 2005 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynApparently, filk cons are good for my writing. Again, open beta, folken. Comment on what needs the fixing. Muchos gracias.
Constantine stared at the black-haired, bespectacled boy. This isn’t possible, his brain insisted. It can’t be him. Tim can’t- His eyes flicked towards the kid’s shoulder, half expecting to find Yoyo, but there was no owl to be seen. He shook his head and looked back to the boy’s face.
No. No, it wasn’t Tim. The face wasn’t right after all- too wide, too pale. Not to mention the scar on his forehead (although you know, you’ve been in this half-arsed world long enough for that to happen, part of his mind whispered). Still. . .
He bent to pick up his wand. “Your name’s not Tim Hunter, then?” he asked warily.
The boy shook his head. “No, sir,” he replied. “It’s Harry Potter.”
He said it in a tone of half-dread, as if he expected John to take him to task for it. John only shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “Thought you were someone I knew.”
“That’s . . . that’s all, sir?”
“Professor,” John corrected with a scowl. “Not sir. Anyone in this class calls me sir and they’ll bloody well live to wish they hadn’t, all right?” He surveyed the class before looking back to Harry. “And yeah. That’s all. There summat else I should know?”
The look the boy gave him suggested strongly that John had somehow grown a second head. “You mean you don’t. . .” Harry trailed off, uncertainly.
John shrugged. “Should I?”
“Well-“ Harry squirmed. “I-“
“Harry’s the one who did all that extra teaching last year,” a red-headed boy with a face full of freckles suddenly exclaimed. “You didn’t know?”
“Haven’t had time to look over all me notes,” John returned. “Here, who’re you?”
“Ron Weasley.”
He might as well have cracked a whip across John’s face; reflexively, John flinched. Ginger’s kid, he thought. The girl wasn’t bad enough? “Right,” he said aloud. “Got it. No, as a matter of fact, I don’t know. I’m not from around here, take that as you like it. I don’t know your names. I don’t know your politics. I don’t know a bloody thing about the festering pile of-“ Ethics clause, man, a treacherous memory reminded him. “-idiocy who calls himself Lord Voldemort, except that he’s got every last one of you scared down to the bones. I know you’re up to your necks in people who want to see you and your parents running like rats. I can’t change that. But I can tell you this. . .”
He leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the desk.
“There are worse things in this world than Voldemort. Worse by far. I’ve seen them. I’ve dealt with them. And I’m still here.”
The air in the classroom was absolutely still.
“I’m not going to guarantee that what I’m teaching you is going to keep you alive. . . but it’s worked for me all these years. And it’s the best damned chance you’re going to get.”
And may God help you all if I’m right, you miserable little shits.
Constantine stared at the black-haired, bespectacled boy. This isn’t possible, his brain insisted. It can’t be him. Tim can’t- His eyes flicked towards the kid’s shoulder, half expecting to find Yoyo, but there was no owl to be seen. He shook his head and looked back to the boy’s face.
No. No, it wasn’t Tim. The face wasn’t right after all- too wide, too pale. Not to mention the scar on his forehead (although you know, you’ve been in this half-arsed world long enough for that to happen, part of his mind whispered). Still. . .
He bent to pick up his wand. “Your name’s not Tim Hunter, then?” he asked warily.
The boy shook his head. “No, sir,” he replied. “It’s Harry Potter.”
He said it in a tone of half-dread, as if he expected John to take him to task for it. John only shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “Thought you were someone I knew.”
“That’s . . . that’s all, sir?”
“Professor,” John corrected with a scowl. “Not sir. Anyone in this class calls me sir and they’ll bloody well live to wish they hadn’t, all right?” He surveyed the class before looking back to Harry. “And yeah. That’s all. There summat else I should know?”
The look the boy gave him suggested strongly that John had somehow grown a second head. “You mean you don’t. . .” Harry trailed off, uncertainly.
John shrugged. “Should I?”
“Well-“ Harry squirmed. “I-“
“Harry’s the one who did all that extra teaching last year,” a red-headed boy with a face full of freckles suddenly exclaimed. “You didn’t know?”
“Haven’t had time to look over all me notes,” John returned. “Here, who’re you?”
“Ron Weasley.”
He might as well have cracked a whip across John’s face; reflexively, John flinched. Ginger’s kid, he thought. The girl wasn’t bad enough? “Right,” he said aloud. “Got it. No, as a matter of fact, I don’t know. I’m not from around here, take that as you like it. I don’t know your names. I don’t know your politics. I don’t know a bloody thing about the festering pile of-“ Ethics clause, man, a treacherous memory reminded him. “-idiocy who calls himself Lord Voldemort, except that he’s got every last one of you scared down to the bones. I know you’re up to your necks in people who want to see you and your parents running like rats. I can’t change that. But I can tell you this. . .”
He leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the desk.
“There are worse things in this world than Voldemort. Worse by far. I’ve seen them. I’ve dealt with them. And I’m still here.”
The air in the classroom was absolutely still.
“I’m not going to guarantee that what I’m teaching you is going to keep you alive. . . but it’s worked for me all these years. And it’s the best damned chance you’re going to get.”
And may God help you all if I’m right, you miserable little shits.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-23 04:30 am (UTC)I do think that more of what the other twenty students are doing at the beginning of this bit/end of the last one might be helpful; I refuse to have enough faith in teenagers to believe that nobody's said something loud, rude, or both.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-23 11:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-23 11:48 am (UTC)At least a count of how many fainted each time he said the V word.
Phhht
Date: 2005-10-23 03:45 pm (UTC)Re: Phhht
Date: 2005-10-23 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-23 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 12:05 am (UTC)A WORLD OF YES.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 11:27 am (UTC)I never quite realised before how much John has in common with Vimes.