Closed Detention What Was Done Wrong PV | C. Baird

Yuck. He found himself back in the classroom. The classroom where he would serve yet another detention. "Hi badge." He said, not attempting to be creative enough just to give her a unique nickname. "Why the fuck am I in-" Then his tasks. "Shit." The part goblin said, his jaw dropping.

Yelling out with his jaw dropping out of shock, "YOU WANT ME TO WRITE THAT STUPID SENTENCE A HUNDRED TIMES!?" Okay, maybe he was being tortured. Maybe it was a joke! Maybe he was in a fake room and the walls would collapse and they'd celebrate his extra early birthday. Surely it was a dang joke.

Almost as if he felt himself being warranted to just wander around the classroom in a solemn look on his moral soul and physical being, he wanted to throw the prefect out or even just take her wand and lock her in the room. One of these days.

One of these days, he'll get his revenge on the girl. One day he'll be renown and famous. One day he'll be considered cool. He'll figure out how to destroy and break out of Azkaban if he ever finds himself in there.

Right? There had to be a way to break out of Azkaban? People who make dumb choices, at least according to Octavius, would go to Azkaban and serve their life sentence there.

Sure it was an attempt to scare Clark, but it didn't work. He was still in the midst of his cruel ways. As he felt himself nervously taking a seat at the desk, he remembered that it was nearly a month prior that he had set a desk en flambe in the same area. It was cool, but Clark was essentially going to be stuck with the horrid and ugly memories that no one wanted in their heads.

And now he slammed his head into his desk and rose it back up to begin writing. The sooner he could get it done, the sooner he could, and he said this part out loud, "get the fuck away from that prefect."

"The effects of smoking may be extremely detrimental but you would be able to tell that it had a negative impact on people. As a matter of fact, if you were asked to provide a hypothesis for this, I'd say to test the effects of smoking on minors and on adults.

As a minor, when you smoke, it triggers your brain into thinking you want to smoke, you need to smoke. But that's not necessarily what needs to happen. It is the increased levels of nicotine in the cigarette or cigar that would essentially hook you to the dangerous action of smoking. Perhaps if you asked some of them if they would like to quit, they tell you that they do, but can they? They cannot find a way to evade the nightmares of smoking.

It's likely that without medical attention- or even with medical attention- I could find myself needing care, emergency attentions, and quite possibly death if I chronically smoke.

So smoking is bad for minors, but it's also bad with adults. well, it pretty much also does what it does for children and teenagers. Smoking causes disease and death. I guess in the long run, smoking is very bad for us and by even considering giving the damn illusion that I was smoking, even if it was just a candy stick and a pepper imp, I was making it appear as if I were putting myself in harm. And that was dangerous.

I was being reckless. I was not being responsible. So, that is on me. It was all my fault for thinking it was such a great prank to manipulate people into thinking so. "

Right then, he was done. Not that it was a full blown fancy old essay that many people seem to want to read but it contained a little bit of known facts and Clark just marked it as if it were the end of it.

Now he had to write a hundred words, but seeing as his wrists were hurting and his fingers were cramping up, he found himself walking around slapping things on the wall just to try and get himself to feel like he was doing well, and that his hands didn't hurt. But hell, life sucked and could choose to give him cramps even if he were running at full speed down the hallway as an attempt to jump over- let's say- a moat of crocodiles. (Just an imaginary example) Okay, maybe now he was good and ready to finish the final step.

· · ─────── · 𖢨 · ─────── · ·

Koko wasn't sure what to expect from an eleven- or twelve-year-old child, but the words 'fuck' and 'shit' were definitely not anywhere close. She didn't even register how he had called her 'Badge' ─ not that she particularly minded, nor did she really care. The horror of a first year ─ no, he had to be a second year ─ swearing made Koko's eyes widen slightly, and she stood up straighter.

She wouldn't necessarily command respect. She had never been one of those people who were outwardly intimidating. In fact, some people said she had a sort of calming presence about her. However, just because Koko disliked initiating conflicts did not mean that she couldn't defend herself.

'I see you've found your way to the correct room. Congratulations,' Koko said drily. Her usually warm, emotional tone was relatively cold and flat. Although she tried to avoid making assumptions about people, this child had not impressed her at all.

His outrage, however, when he read the directions, made Koko smirk. She might have chuckled. 'Yes, Mr Baird─' She had indeed managed to learn his name and understand how she recognised him (he was Professor Baird's son). '─One hundred times. I will count.' Would she really? Probably not. But he didn't have to know that.

It seemed as if her intentions would be realised. Baird sat at one of the desks, and for a moment, Koko hated how she felt almost humoured when she saw his expression. She wasn't one of those people, the ones who relished being in authority because of the power it gave them. She wasn't mean. She'd made certain of that a long time ago.

But perhaps she had been wrong, and all it took was a simple tilt of a scale to change someone from a kind person to someone a bit morally worse.

'get the fuck away from that prefect,' Koko heard, shaking her out of her stupor. Well, she certainly had not made a friend today. That hadn't been her intention, though. This was about learning the importance of the rules by whatever means necessary (but not violence, never violence). This was not about friendship or rainbows or unicorns, no matter how much Koko appreciated all three.

'You'll be able to leave when you're done.' Koko spoke with an even tone. She couldn't tell if she was more amused or offended. Perhaps she could be both at the same time. 'So you'd do best to start writing.'

It was only when she heard the scritch-scratch of quill nib against parchment that she thought this might have been a bad idea. She had set herself up for boredom, too. She glanced out of the window while Baird wrote, her gaze catching on the grounds before she sighed quietly and sat on a desk to wait for the boy to finish writing. All she could hope for was that he might be more bored than she was.

Eventually, Baird stood, and he began to walk around. Koko remained quiet. He didn't seem as if he was trying to leave. She watched as he smacked his hands against things, and almost sympathetically, she realised that his hands likely hurt a lot. She wasn't mean... Right?

It didn't matter. Baird sat down again and continued writing, likely writing the lines, and Koko felt the strangest temptation to pull out her wand and cast a spell, maybe something like the Bubble-Producing Charm, to make this less awful for both of them. She didn't. She kicked her legs in the air ─ she was too short for them to reach the ground from where she sat ─ and she waited. And she waited. And she waited.

Finally, Baird finished, and Koko lifted her head from where she had been very studiously analysing the floor. 'Finished?' she asked with a small smirk. 'Congratulations. I do hope you've learned some sort of lesson today.'

· · ─────── · 𖢨 · ─────── · ·

@Clark Baird

OOC:

Reducio

Alas, you are now allowed to create/join new threads. Congratulations on completing this detention.