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Post by Jaxon Bronx Pietri on Dec 14, 2010 14:19:36 GMT -5
After dinner in the Great Hall, Jaxon had excused himself early for some time alone. He hadn't wanted to run into students nor fellow staff members; all he wanted was quiet. The Quidditch professor, whatever her name was, had taken to following him around whenever she could catch him. Tonight, he wasn't too keen to stir up appropriate conversation, and that was unlike him. He set off up the marble staircase, his black robe rustling against each stair. His body was on auto-pilot, not to his Head of House office in the Hufflepuff common room, but to his Care of Magical Creatures office on the first floor. Anyone who wanted to talk to him would check his main office first, giving him a few more minutes of silence.
His wounds from the thestral were nearly healed: the cuts to his chest had scabbed over, his ribs weren't as sore as they had been -- only the forearm gave him any trouble, and even it was healed enough to go unbandaged. The scar it would leave behind would be quite noticeable but it didn't bother the professor as much as what he was thinking about at that very moment.
"Why can't you ever stay out of my way, Pietri?" Professor Evans demanded, her hands on her bony hips. To look into her eyes, he had to take a step back because she was so much taller than he.
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, miss," Jaxon replied, confused. His accent gave his sentence spice, especially his 'r's, rolling off his tongue. His eyebrow quirked as he tried to think back to a time he had been in her way.
"Just the simple fact of you being here makes me sick. I can't believe a Headmaster such as ours could hire scum like you." Her icy glare seemed to burn right through him as she pushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, as if to see him better. "You don't belong here," she hissed under her breath and with that, she spun on her heel and stalked off.
Scum? No one had ever spoken so rudely to him, not in his adult life. As a student at Hogwarts... well, of course there were a few Slytherins who didn't think he belonged, basing everything on his Blood-Status. If they would have known him after his accident, the torture would have been much worse, but it seemed as though Briallan Evans would fill in their place with ease.
Jaxon didn't believe that she meant his Blood-Status. No adult that he knew would discriminate against another for that reason.
Finally, he reached the door of his office but there was something tacked there. A note, scrawled on a piece of parchment paper in an unruly hand.
a filthy Squib Mudblood whose terrible teaching skills can hardly do justice to even magical beasts
His jaw fell open as he read the line. In shock, he reread the simple message. It slipped and fell from his hand as he slumped against the door. Who could say such a thing? The handwriting looked as if it could be either male or female, and it could as easily be a student as a staff member. He knew that some of his students saw him as inferior to them.
Temporarily pulling himself together, he crumpled the offending paper in his left hand, pushing open the door of his office with the other. He crossed the room to his desk, collapsing in his chair with a sigh. Jaxon extracted his wand from his desk drawer, aiming it at his door to lock it. It took all of his energy to cast the spell needed. Casting the useless wood aside, he rested his head in his hands.
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