English lit
“I’m telling you professor McGonagall we shouldn’t be only reading poetry written by men,” the black haired boy at the front of the class said, rolling his eyes.
“Professor, can you please tell Regulus to like calm down before class or something?” said a guy at the back of the classroom.
Professor McGonagall adjusted her spectacles and gave Regulus a long look. "Mr. Black, while I admire your passion for equality, perhaps saving your campaign for a more receptive audience would be wise. Unless, of course, you can convince Mr. Nott over there that Emily Dickinson is a formidable Romantic poet." A wave of laughter rippled through the class, even coaxing a smile from the serious Regulus.
Regulus raised an eyebrow, scanning the classroom with mock surprise. "Is someone having trouble keeping up with the syllabus? Perhaps a visit to the library is in order, Nott" He trailed off, letting the silence hang heavy until the classmate mumbled his name. "Right, Nott. Plenty of dusty old tomes filled with, you know, words."
The door creaks open a fraction, and James Potter peeks in, his posture suggesting he was about to pass by. He catches the tail end of Regulus' comment and freezes. A slow smile spreads across his face. "Dusty old tomes, eh? Sounds like someone's been spending extra time in the restricted section." He pushes the door open wider, a playful challenge in his tone.
Professor McGonagall sighs dramatically. "Mr. Potter, perhaps you can enlighten us on what riveting topic caused your tardiness."
James raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, Professor. Just passing by and heard some interesting chatter about...literature?" He glances at Regulus, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Did I miss something?"
Regulus, ever the composed one, schools his features into a mask of indifference. "Just a lively debate on the merits of outdated reading material, Potter. Nothing for you to concern yourself with."
“Alright, I’ve had enough of the two of you. Go straight to detention ,Regulus for interrupting my class, and James, Just go” McGonagall commanded.
The heavy oak door of the detention room slammed shut with a finality that echoed in the tense silence. Regulus' jaw clenched so hard his teeth seemed ready to shatter.
Across the room, James sat sprawled in a chair, a bored expression on his face. He tapped his foot rhythmically against the floor, the sound a relentless drumbeat in Regulus' pounding head.
"Happy now, Potter?" Regulus finally spat, his voice laced with a dangerous edge, as he was unable to contain his irritation any longer.
James's head snapped up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it was replaced by a smirk. "Detention with the one and only Regulus Black? Sounds like a party to me."
Regulus scoffed. "A party? You wouldn't know a serious discussion about literature if it bit you on the nose."
James's smirk widened. "Serious discussion? Please, Black, you were about to launch into another rant. Lighten up a bit, would you?"
"Lighten up?" Regulus echoed, his voice rising. "This isn't some game, Potter! It's about equality, about giving a voice to those who haven't been heard."
James leaned back in his chair, his amusement fading slightly. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're passionate. But maybe there's a better way to go about it than picking fights in class."
Regulus narrowed his eyes. "And what would you suggest, Potter? Sit quietly and accept the status quo?"
James shrugged,"Maybe. Maybe not. But there are ways to argue your point without getting yourself in detention."
A tense silence settled between them again, broken only by the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the corner. The air crackled with unspoken hostility, a battle of wills confined to a small, dusty room.