Quill mercilessly being chewed between eager teeth, Noah Pratt sat staring up at the clock above the professor’s head. First he’d been counting the hours. Next he’d counted the minutes and now he was counting the seconds. It was as if Professor Storm was trying to bore them all to death. Maybe that was a beast he should be telling them about instead of whatever he’d been hammering on about for the last two hours. But that beast would be Professor Storm. Or no, Professor Storm would be the terrifying bore beast, not just a regular one.

The monster that always asked a question when you weren’t listening. Or that failed you because you didn’t like writing boring dragon poo about boring spells. Noah wanted to do the spells, not write about them. He didn’t want to write about anything. But that had meant that Storm had failed him and his Dad had got really mad. Noah hadn’t exactly got outstanding on his end of term tests but no one else had given him a big horrible D apart from the big horrible Bore Beast.

So Pa had sent a letter to the professor, expressing his anger after yelling at Noah a lot. Then Storm had sent a letter back and his pa had shouted a lot more this time, his face turning a funny shade of red in his anger. He’d looked ready to explode and many expletives had shot from the auror’s mouth.

Noah himself had read the letters.
I look forward to speaking with Noah about your letter.

Had the fear of Merlin been put into Noah at this point? Definitely. Professor Storm was scary and his letter hardly expressed happiness at having a pupil’s dad complain. Noah was a dead Gryffindor and he hadn’t even managed to tell his mum and sisters and brother he loved them. He didn’t need to tell his Dad. It was his dad that had sent him to the execution stage.

But Storm hadn’t pounced yet. Noah had even sprinted from the first class back out of fear of being caught by the professor. But he’d not bothered him yet and now it was Wednesday. The questions kept coming throughout the class. Questions that had been responded to with a ‘…Yes?’ or a ‘Maybe?’. Storm didn’t seem satisfied that meant Noah had been paying attention. But he was right. Instead of notes, the boy’s parchment was covered in doodles of the Storminator with horns and a snout.

Finally the bell rang and Noah flew like a whippet. His bag was packed in light speed and he was making for the door, eyes on the ground. Storm was not getting him. He was almost at freedom.

Closer to the door.

Almost Free.

Almost

"Pratt!"

The Professor's voice shot loudly and clearly across the classroom in the direction of the door.

"A word."

Ignan despised teaching the lower years in a lecture format. They had the attention span of dogs and looked as gormless as one when you waved a stick at it - tongues lolling, eyes wide, heads vacant. But enough about the first years. He had a bone to pick with Noah, by way of his father.

He was sat at the desk at the front, and his fingers were round the handle of his wand, ready to lock the young boy's legs together if he made another hasty bid for freedom. Whereas he might normally have demanded Pratt attend his desk before dismissing the class, the boy was sporting and his dash to the door had made it all the more amusing to do it this way.

Waiting for the boy to attend, Ignan merely stared at him coldly and steadily. The other first years filed out in a hurry, off to their next lesson. As the last pair were leaving, the Professor got up, passed Noah and waved his wand to shut the door, before stepping beside Noah and looking down his nose at him, arms folded, wand still in hand.

"Your father wrote to me after Christmas." The Professor informed Noah flatly. "Were you not brave enough to admit your lack of effort in your December examination, or did he write to all your Professors to complain at how unfairly they had marked his beloved son?"

"Pratt!" Barked the Bore Beast.

Noah stopped dead in his tracks just before freedom. So close and yet so terribly far. The Storminator had called him into battle. Or called him to come and face death like a man. But Noah didn’t want to be a man. He wanted to be a boy who lived! The boy who lived. The new boy who lived. Harry Potter wasn’t a boy anymore. He worked with Noah’s dad fighting evil wizards and drinking coffee like it was hot chocolate and marshmallows. He probably never had to face The Storminator, Bore Beast of Hogwarts!

"A word."

Professor Storm may as well have said ‘It’s time to die, Pratt. And I, the Storminator am going to make it happen!’ for it would have inspired a similar reaction. Noah’s face turned ashen as he watched his classmates file happily out of the door he’d been so close to escaping through. Now he’d never see the light of day again. Or taste the amazing turkey they served in the great hall. Or play in the snow or ride a broom or…

The footsteps behind him approached and the door was waved shut. Noah, with a great reluctance, looked up to find Professor Bore Beast staring down his hooked nose at him, resembling a vulture eyeing up his dinner.

“Er…” Noah opened his mouth, staring up at the Storminator. There was definite fear behind his big blue eyes. He lifted a hand to his mouth, rubbing it, only to smear fresh ink over his chin.

“I only got one D, sir.”  The boy’s voice was barely audible.

"Yes, Pratt. One D for Defence Against the Dark Arts, I am only too aware." The Professor replied sharply, staring at the young boy with intensity. The letter from Auror Pratt had arrived while he'd been in Germany dealing with a funeral, and he wasn't in the best of moods to deal with it on January 2nd when he had finally got through the stack of parental complaints. Though, he was quietly proud of the response he'd sent.

"The one subject you study this year which will keep you alive when you meet danger, that your father clearly expects you to do well in, given he uses the knowledge every single day."

The Professor spoke the last three words with pauses for effect, ramming home the importance of the subject in the Pratt household. He had no idea if Edward Pratt had passed with outstanding NEWT, but given he was an auror, he must have. Somehow.

"If your father hadn't studied hard at Defence Against the Dark Arts, he'd have lived a shorter life than he has." He leaned down towards Pratt, for dramatic effect, he just wanted to give the boy something to remember.
"If the dark wizards come looking for him, and find you instead, a dreadful mark will be the last of your worries, Pratt."

Perhaps a few nightmares too.

"The one subject you study this year which will keep you alive when you meet danger, that your father clearly expects you to do well in, given he uses the knowledge every single day."

Noah was staring up at Storm with wide eyes and tight features. He knew his dad used it every day. His dad was an auror. But Noah didn’t want to be an auror. Not today, anyway. Today he wanted to be the boy that could run away from the Storminator and hide in his next class.  Did Storm not realise he was holding him up from the excitement of transfiguring goblets into rats or something equally as interesting?

The next comment, however, did hit home. If his pa hadn’t got top marks in DADA would he really be dead? Noah looked away from his professor for a moment, concentrating. Had Uncle Dan[1] got Ds? Was that why he was in St Mungo’s demanding socks now? Could that be Noah one day? Was that what the Professor was trying to tell him? If he failed again he’d become a weird sock obsessive wizard with anger issues.

"If the dark wizards come looking for him, and find you instead, a dreadful mark will be the last of your worries, Pratt."

Storm leaned forward and Noah stepped backwards, eyes wide. He stumbled over his own feet and unceremoniously landed hard on his bum.

“I know that!” He retorted to the professor, still sat on the floor. He’d been sent away[2] with his mum and siblings because of this very reason. Pa and his mam had lied to him, telling them all they were just going away for a bit but Noah had overheard conversations between his parents. He knew they’d been sent to the shack because someone had been after them.

“Writing long essays won’t save me.” The boy’s eyes filled up and he scowled up at Storm. The scary professor didn’t know anything. “It didn’t save them.”[3]

1.	Daniel Pratt is a former auror and Edward Pratt's brother. He was attacked during the war and is now a permanent resident at St Mungo's hospital
2.	Shakin' Up
3.	The Woodcutter and his Axe

Pratt had fallen on his backside, and Ignan hadn't laid a finger on him. Clearly his footwork needed a lot of attention. He wasn't quite sure what Noah was alluding to, there were quite a number of students in his classes and he easily forgot some of the detail - too many sad childhoods, dead siblings, orphans...

"I quite agree," The Professor spoke smoothly to the boy on the floor, "Essays don't save lives, but the requirement to learn the information to write the essay does." He dropped his folded arms and gestured, "Get up, Pratt."

"Let us get this straight," He addressed primly gesturing with his wand to first himself and then Noah, "I don't dictate what the Ministry believe you must learn, but my word is law in this classroom. As long as you fill your quota of words on an essay to my satisfaction and the Ministry's, I'll ensure I fill your vacant head with spells of use in defending yourself." He loomed down on the boy once more.

"That will be your last D, or I will write to your father this time, understood?"

Noah struggled to his feet, still a lot shorter than the old professor looming over him. He lifted his left arm to his face and rubbed it with a grubby robe sleeve. Professor Storm was mean. Or he was trying to tell Noah something. Dark wizards were going to come looking for his dad and find him one day. And he was going to be murdered like his grandparents because he got a D in defence against the dark arts and his professor wanted to tell him off for a letter instead of helping him. Noah looked up at Storm.

Did that mean it was Storm’s fault if he was killed by evil dark wizards because Storm didn’t give him an O?

As the Storminator spoke he pointed his wand at himself and then Noah. Instead of listening completely to the words, Noah’s eyes narrowed as he stared down the tip. Yes, the Storminator was going to kill him. He was the dark wizard! Mad at a letter sent to him by the auror. Maybe the letters had been in secret code and his pa was planning on arresting Storm for breaking their fingers last term! And now the Storminator wanted to kill Noah and make a run for it!

"That will be your last D, or I will write to your father this time, understood?"

Noah blinked, brought back to reality by the professor once more leaning in close. But this time the boy didn’t move. Instead he stood still, frozen with fear. Storm was going to write to Auror Pratt again. That meant-

“Please don’t kill me, Sir!”

That was the first time in a while that one had squeaked that phrase to his face. He tried so very hard not to be delighted, and failed, the smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth, which he schooled into a scary sneer as best he could. It was pantomime.

"No, not today, you'll live another day, Pratt." The Professor replied, keeping his tone sounding utterly serious and maintaining eye contact. He was so very precious!
"Just don't give me a reason to reconsider."

Ignan stepped away from the student, walking away to his desk with steady, calculated footsteps, his long academic robes swishing. He tucked his wand away while he had his back to the student, and then pulled out his desk chair to sit back down. 

"Dismissed, Pratt. I have other students to teach." The Deputy Headmaster brushed a hand in Noah's direction, shooing him away.

"No, not today, you'll live another day, Pratt." The professor coldly responded, his facial muscles nursing the grotesque smile of a happy dark wizard. His piercing blue eyes didn’t stray from Noah’s own blue ones, glowering down at him with promise. Promise of a painful death; of class torture and pain. Noah was still frozen, staring up at him, not daring to pull his gaze away. If he did maybe the Storminator would pounce and eat him right there and then.

“I won’t professor!” The young boy squeaked as Storm stepped away. Noah, who had been stood rigidly finally relaxed, his shoulders slumping back into their usual position and his scruffy hair flopped over his eyes. His mam had tried to cut it for him over Christmas but he’d made a very quick escape. He liked it long; he thought it meant professors couldn’t see where he was really looking (which was rarely at them).

The Storminator stalked back to his desk and Noah couldn’t help but feel that this battle had been won. He’d survived and he was going to get out alive. Especially now that Storm was waving him outside.

Now any other terrified first year would have taken this as their cue to run and not come back until their next lesson forced them to. But Noah stayed where he was for a moment, watching the mean professor at his desk. Like his father, he didn’t know when to escape.

“Can I pass, Sir?” He quietly asked, frowning. He really didn’t want to be killed by dark wizards because he kept getting Ds.

“Can I pass, Sir?”

Professor Storm looked up in surprise at the boy still stood there in his classroom. Hadn't he just told him to leave? What in Merlin's name was he still doing there?

Of course, the boy had no sense. He was Ed Pratt's son.

"Pass?" The Professor snapped, looking up fiercely from the notes he'd just pulled to the top of the pile, regarding his next lesson with the second years.

"What makes you think you're worthy of a pass?" He added, as if the idea were incredibly stupid.

"I'm not changing your grade now. Pratt, get out, you have a lesson to go to, and I can hear the second years on their way." Even with the door closed, it wasn't impossible to hear the rumble of feet and the high spirits of second years who undoubtedly both dreaded and were excited about the lesson due to start.

"Before I change my mind about your future..."

The Professor looked up at Noah, snapping harshly with questions. The words hit him. Was he unworthy of passing ever? Was he that bad? Noah stared at the Storminator, suddenly genuinely upset. He didn’t want to keep failing. He didn’t want dark wizards to kill him because his dad made them mad. He didn’t want his pa mad with him again. But was that all he was worthy of? Ever?

Then Storm told him his grade couldn’t change and Noah’s brows furrowed. That’s not what he’d asked. He didn’t ask for a grade change. He wanted to know if he could ever pass. Was he capable?

“I meant-” The Yorkshire boy tried to respond when Storm once more told him to get out. He wanted to ask again but Storm scared him and he wasn’t going to stick around any longer. Not now that more threats were coming his way. He’d just have to try harder now so that Storm or any other dark wizards didn’t want to kill him.

With a defeated nod, Noah Pratt slung his backpack over his shoulder once more and left the classroom, his body slumped in disappointment. Hogwarts definitely wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. Not with professors that threatened to kill you if you failed an exam.

End