The Teacher's Son

Chapter 2

"Harry James Potter!" McGonagall shouted, sweeping into her quarters.

Under the bed in his mother's room, Harry curled into a tighter ball, praying silently that he wouldn't be noticed.

"Harry." McGonagall said again, her voice containing a large note of disapproval.

The eight-year-old held his breath.

In the corridor right outside her room, McGonagall sighed. "Homenum Revelio."

Her wand vibrated lightly, turning her towards her own door.

"Harry? Get out from under the bed." She ordered, opening the door.

No response.

McGonagall began to tap her foot lightly. After a moment of tense silence, the boy began to squirm, slowly crawling out from under the bed.

"Hi, Mimmy..." He said cautiously, smiling guiltily at her.

"Harry, you are much too old to be calling me that." 

"But, Mimmy-"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes Mum." Harry muttered.

"Now, why on Earth did you think helping Peeves pelt the first years with water balloons would be a good idea?"

"Uh..." The boy looked at his feet, refusing to meet his guardian's eyes.

"Harry, look at me." McGonagall said. 

"I'm sorry. It sounded like fun." Harry finally said.

"It sounded like fun. That's the best excuse you have?" 

"Yeah..." 

McGonagall sighed. "Harry, I told you last time that if you did this again you'd be grounded for three days."

The black haired boy nodded, looking down again.

"But since we're going to your aunt and uncle's tomorrow, it will have to wait."

"That's even worse though!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry, you need to stay in touch with your family."

"I don't wanna!"

"I can make that grounding period four days."

Harry huffed. "Fine."

Minerva nodded. "Alright, now how has your reading been going?"

Harry frowned. "I can read the books just fine, but the words are blurry sometimes. And I can't read stuff from the board if I sit in my seat."

McGonagall frowned. "We'll have to talk to Dumbledore, you might need glasses."

"Can I have ones like Professor Al?" He asked eagerly.

"Harry Potter, what did I tell you about addressing the professors?"

"Call them by their last names."

"Good, now say the sentence again."

He sighed. "Can I have glasses like Professor Dumbledore?"

"Good boy. Maybe, it depends on what the healers say."

Harry perked up. "We're going to St. Mungo's?"

"Yes."

"Yay!" He fist pumped, probably something he learned from a student.

McGonagall shook her head, smiling a little as Harry turned to run back to his room. It had been converted so half was his bedroom while the other half was a classroom. Minerva had taken it on herself to teach him and purchased several muggle teaching books. She watched school teachers tutorials so she knew what to teach the boy, spending several Saturdays at a muggle coffee shop with a laptop.

"I'm going to talk to the headmaster!" She called after him. 

Harry paid her no mind.

Chuckling quietly, McGonagall walked down the halls.

"EarWax Beans." She told the gargoyle confidently before walking up the stairs to the headmaster's office.

"Hello, Minerva!" Professor Sprout said cheerily as she bustled past on her way out.

"Pomona." McGonagall nodded.

"Ah, hello Minerva." Dumbledore said.

"Hello Albus. Is the healer who prescribed your glasses still working?"

The headmaster frowned for a moment. "I believe he is, would you like me to check?"

"If you can, that would be helpful." 

Albus turned to the many portraits that covered the walls of his office. "Dilys, could you go over to St. Mungo's and find out if Healer Greengrass is still working?"

The portrait in question gave him a sharp nod and turned, her silver hair disappearing as she walked out of sight.

"Now, Minerva, why do you ask for a Healer who prescribed my glasses if you have your own healer?"

"Healer Smith resigned a few weeks ago and I believe that Harry needs glasses."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, his father did, as did his grandfather. It seems to be a family trait."

"I know, that's why I came as soon as he mentioned any blurriness to his vision."

The old headmaster chuckled. "As an old friend of mine once said, 'Getting glasses is like Christmas for the blind.'"

Minerva snorted before she could stop herself. "And who told you that, Albus?"

"Like I said, an old friend. Her name was Carley, she was a childhood friend."

"Albus." Dilys was back.

"Ah, and the verdict is?"

"He's still there, working as hard as ever. Is that all you needed?"

"Yes it is, Dilys, thank you."

The woman nodded, then left the portrait again, this time carefully squeezing past the pictures to her left until she had left the room completely.

"Is that all, Minerva?" Dumbledore turned back to the Transfiguration professor.

"Please inform the Bloody Baron that Peeves is up to his tricks and is corrupting my son." She informed him before turning and leaving the headmaster sitting quietly in his office.

A quiet chuckle broke the silence.

"That boy is one in a million." Albus muttered to himself, a small smile on his face.

[A/N Trying out for the play today, wish me luck!]