Chapter 3
Chapter three
Harry did not like school. School was just as unfair as number four. In the first week, Dudley lost his reading book and threw a tantrum that he would get in trouble so Harry had to give him his reading book and had to sit through lunch for losing school property. In the second week, Dudley cut Harry’s P.E. kit with scissors and Harry was blamed for destroying it resulting in the loss of a lunch time again and a beating from Uncle Vernon for wasting his hard earned money. In the third week, Dudley and his friends ripped up his homework which he had to spend two lunches redoing under Mrs Christian’s disapproving eye. In the fourth week he had to carry his books too and from school as Dudley had thrown his book bag into a tree earning him another beating from Uncle Vernon. In the fifth week, Dudley and his friends started hitting him on the playground and Harry Hunting became their new favourite game. He was also lectured by Mrs Christian about lying about good boys like his cousin as he had obviously managed to bruise himself by playing rough. In the sixth week, Dudley poured paint down himself in an art lesson and blamed Harry, he was not allowed out for lunch the rest of the week.
Mrs Christian didn’t seem to care that it was always Harry who had no things or torn clothes or bruises. Dudley and his friends gleefully chased him at every opportunity. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon blamed him for every inconvenience in their lives from car troubles to bad weather and he had long since given up trying to reason with them or make them proud. But Mrs Christian was going to understand, he was going to make her because he wasn’t doing anything wrong and she didn’t treat anyone else this way. Harry was determined and he and Hart hatched a plan. Every night in his cupboard they practised adding and subtracting and writing their letters carefully on the floor board and reciting the reading books he had memorised in school so there was no chance of him having to give up the actual book again.
In the seventh week before half term, the whole class took a test.. It was the moment that Harry and Hart had been waiting for, their perfect opportunity. The classroom was silent as thirty four to five-year-olds gripped their pencils tightly and stuck out their tongues in concentration. Harry was prepared as he carefully worked through the question, sweat beading at his hairline from the extent of his intense focus. He read every question twice and checked his answers thrice. When he had finished he checked them all meticulously again before setting his pencil down with a satisfied nod as he looked up at the clock, its soft ticking the only sound in the room.
Mrs Christian narrowed her eyes, stalking towards him. “Are you stuck Harry?” she asked quietly.
“I’m finished Mrs Christian.” he whispered. She sneered swiping his paper up and walking quickly back to her desk. She flicked through it, her brows furrowing then looked through it again examining each page. Harry’s heart filled with pride. She was finally going to recognise he wasn’t bad. She walked quickly back over to him with his paper still in hand.
“Outside.” she hissed angrily and Harry’s heart sank. Keeping his eyes glued to the maroon patterned carpet he walked out of the classroom with Mrs Christian right behind him. As the door clicked shut behind them she turned her furious expression to Harry. “How did you do it? How did you cheat?” she spat.
“I didn’t cheat.” he protested valiantly.
“Every question is right, you couldn’t do this.” she scoffed. “Nobody in that classroom could get all of these questions right but especially not you!”
“I didn’t cheat.” he insisted.
“Tell the truth.”
“I am telling the truth.” he responded frustration bleeding into his voice.
“You are not! You will be spending lunch times in my classroom until Christmas and I will be talking to your guardians about this, they should be informed that you’re a pathological liar.” she said her tone sharp and cutting. Harry didn’t know what pathological meant but he knew that he could feel white hot anger bubbling up and he knew this.
“That’s not fair!” he shouted feeling a rush of heat burst out of him.
“Corner!” spat Mrs Christian. Harry stormed back into the classroom and stood angrily in the corner a position he was more than familiar with. Mrs Christian entered the classroom behind him and he heard the class’s collective gasp and then a riot of giggles broke out. “What are you all laughing at?” she hissed, “Get back to your tests.” Then as she turned towards her desk she caught her reflection in the classroom’s glass doors and spied the electric blue colour of her hair that had not been blue when she had left the room moments before. Mrs Christian let out a blood-curdling shriek. “What have you done you demon child?” she screeched at Harry whose back was still turned to her and had no clue what chaos was occurring behind him. “Don’t ignore me Harry Potter.” she screamed vainly trying to cover her shockingly blue hair with her hands. Harry spun around confusedly, his eyes winding as he took in the comical sight of his furious teacher and her head of blue hair. His jaw dropped in horror as Mrs Christian turned nearly red with rage. “Go to the headmaster's office now.” she screamed spittle flying everywhere. Harry flew from the room, the sound of his classmates laughter seemed to chase him up the corridor all the way to the headmaster’s office.
He took a seat outside the office, lacing his fingers together and staring at them intently. A few minutes later he heard the familiar click, click, click of Mrs Christian’s tidy black heels against the tiles as she approached the office rapidly. She stormed straight past him and into the headmaster’s office without knocking- a rather rude action in Harry’s opinion. He heard the headmaster splutter before the door was slammed shut. For the next few minutes he stared directly at his hands making sure to keep his head down as a great commotion occurred in the room behind him. Through all the shouting he caught snippets of big words such as possessed, exorcism and expelled; words Harry did not know the meaning of yet. Mrs Christian exited the office with an enraged shout and stomped back in the direction of the classroom. The headmaster leaned his head around the door of his office.
“Mr Potter.” he said beckoning him in. The headmaster was named Mr Moore and he was in his late sixties; he always wore a brown suit and carried a handkerchief so he could perpetually dab at his bald head throughout the day. Mr Moore sat down heavily behind his desk and Harry stood nervously in front of it with his hands straight to his sides and with his head tipped forward so his eyes were locked on the floor. “Mr Potter, Mrs Christian has made some serious accusations against you. She says you cheated on your class test and also… that you made her hair turn blue.” Harry could feel the weight of the man’s gaze upon him. “Would you like to refute this?”
“I didn’t cheat and I don’t know what happened to Mrs Christian’s hair, my back was to her when it changed.” Harry whispered his eyes still glued to the floor.
“Mrs Christian is going to speak to your guardians about this but as nothing can be proved you won’t be suspended. You may return to class Mr Potter.” said Mr Moore gently. Harry’s heart sank with dread. Mrs Christian was going to tell the Dursley’s what happened and he was going to be in so much trouble. He clenched his hands into fists as he left the office, his nails biting into his palms and leaving crescent shaped indents in their wake.
Harry walked back to the classroom as if he was being marched to his execution. An execution may have been kinder.
“Of course Mrs Christian we will make sure to deal with him appropriately.” said Aunt Petunia with a pinched smile to the seething Mrs Christian as they left the playground that afternoon a gleeful Dudley beside them as Harry stared miserably at the ground.
“Blue!” bellowed uncle Vernon, his spittle flying from his mouth and showering Harry’s face.
“It wasn’t me, it was like magic.” shouted Harry as uncle Vernon pulled on the back of his school shirt, the collar digging into his neck and making him choke. He felt his feet leave the floor and his head collide with the wall of his cupboard making stars explode behind his eyes. He fell forward onto his hands and knees as he choked back a sob.
“There is no such thing as magic.” shouted Uncle Vernon his face rapidly changing from red to purple as rage suffused his features. The next thing Harry felt was the bite of Uncle Vernon’s leather belt as it came down on his back, again and again while Vernon repeated his words like a mantra getting louder and louder and the force of the belt increasing with each strike. Harry bit down on his tongue fighting the urge to scream until blood exploded in his mouth and the world went black.