Serious Discussion PV Artemis Vernatis Closed

Artemis sighed as he heard the knocking in his classroom and the soft voice call out a greeting to him from inside of his office. Most of the students thought that his office and classroom were one and the same but what they didn't realize, or notice rather, is that there was another door that led to his office toward the back of the room around the corner on the left. None of the students wandered toward that end of the room since it was usually away from their desks. But Artemis wasn't really focused on where his office was located.

No, he was more concerned about the meeting he was going to have to have with his student, George Henry, about his truancy and lackluster focus in class. When the year started, he had noticed that the young Hufflepuff was more active in his class and eager to learn each spell. For some reason, right after October and that horrendous ball that ended in trauma, young George began skipping lessons. He would do his assignments still, which was strange from Artemis' perspective, but the child would frequently miss his class or half heartedly pay attention during the lectures. He was a bright kid. He may not think so, judging by an answer he gave on an assignment recently, but George Henry had promise to becoming a Charms Master when he graduated if he chose to go that route.

Another sigh left Artemis' mouth as he stood from his desk and moved to the door that connected his office to his classroom. Standing by the corner of the wall, he watched the young first year stand near the door of the large room, seemingly pouting already from where Artemis was standing, though he couldn't tell for sure. He wanted to make this a much more pleasant meeting; a fun discussion. However, today Artemis had to play the bad guy. By the end of this discussion, George Henry would either leave the room in tears with a better understanding that his recent behaviors were not acceptable...or he would leave in a fit of rage at being reprimanded. Either way, neither man would enjoy this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Artemis moved to the center of the room where his other desk sat. "Mr. Henry. I see that you are punctual today. Why don't you join me in my office over here," he gestured to the room off to the side, "so that we aren't interupted by anyone else entering or walking by?"

Just when George thought he had faced the worst of it, Artemis pointed him to another door, deeper inside the lair of the charms professor. Ugh. All that horrible build up and pressure was gathering again in his head, the momentary relief of finally facing the music gone and replaced by tension building up into a greater force. He could just turn and run off, abandon this like he had abandoned plenty of his other responsibilities... but it was no use. He could end up expelled, or fail Charms, or... anything, really. It was better just to take what was coming.

Last time, he had managed to recover without intervention. The ball in October was a distraction. The ball in April was a disaster. The illusion that the Masquerade was somehow a one-off event and that nothing bad would happen again had been thoroughly broken. He knew better now that the only safety you had was the stuff that you earned, and even the loyal Hufflepuffs would throw you aside if it meant saving themselves. Recalling his sorting, George let out a quiet grumble. He was right. Hufflepuff was a stupid house. That's probably why he got sorted into it.

George looked up defiantly as the old man got his first jabs in. Punctual today. As if he should be blamed for being late to Charms. He practically knew it all already, what use was it to have him there aside from getting him to shout out the right answer? It wasn't like he was a role model. He doubted anyone had ever looked up to him. Maybe that's why he had been called in today - the professor would have him as sort of a reverse role model. Put him up in front of the other students so they all know what not to act like. The young boy stomped with as much force as he could muster, his feet clacking off the floor as he marched over to the office door and stepped inside.

Wow, this was a nice office. It was cool to be a professor. Having a private space to live and work was a luxury not afforded to students, who did everything communally. Living at home with one brother was bad enough, but now he had to spend all his time sleeping, eating, and studying around his fake family. George threw himself back into one of the chairs at Artemis' desk, folding his arms tight across his chest, poised to defend himself with aggressive apathy toward the teacher's authority. His eyes wandered to the bookshelves around the office - he had seen some of these titles, but not others. The boy paused his indignant rage to take mental note of some of the books. Reading was still fun, and he could do it without anyone bothering him most of the time.

"What did I do?" George asked, finally looking up to Artemis with a steely glare. That lasted for about two seconds before he had to look away. Grown ups are tough to beat in a staring contest. He lowered his head again, chewing on his lower lip to distract himself.

George squirmed under the mounting weight of Professor Vernatis' words, feeling as though he was being crushed beneath the onslaught of reasonable remarks from his disappointed teacher. He didn't feel like waiting to discuss what he'd done, because as far as he knew, he hadn't done anything. Nothing that he'd been given a detention for in class, at any rate, at least not a detention with Professor Vernatis. Did he like to dole them out in his office instead of during class? He'd never known - it was the first time he'd been on the grown-up's bad side since he arrived at the school.

He felt his arms go slack, uncrossing from over his chest and falling limp and weak at his sides. It was strange that the empowering offer to treat him with respect and listen could make him feel so wholly defeated. There wasn't anything to say. He didn't want to talk at all. He wanted to yell, and knock over Artemis' papers. He didn't care if he'd have to pick them up afterward - maybe it would be worth it for the feeling of doing it. The boy tensed in the seat, swinging his legs back and forth at the edge before planting his feet down upon the floor, his uniform shoes thumping down. Stability, just for a minute.

But still, he never said anything, fearful of losing control of his tone. He sat for a little longer, listening to what the man said.

He didn't like what he heard. What business of his was it if George decided to skip all his other classes? Get them to deal with it! Professor Vernatis could do with a lesson in minding his own business, George thought. His whole body tensed again as he leaned forward - but he felt weak again, falling backward and letting his back thump against the back of the chair. Getting angry was stupid and pointless, but so was everything else, so he decided he'd take the obvious route. He wouldn't stand for unfair treatment.

"If my homework is wonderful then why does it matter whether I'm in the class or not?" George spat back, his voice defiant and tremulous. He muffled a cough, choking on his next words until he could swallow and take a breath. "I even read ahead, I even showed you! Why should I be in trouble?"

The young Hufflepuff raised his arms, adding some wild gesticulations to his anger-fueled outburst. He gestured first to the entire room, then to Professor Vernatis, then himself. There were some concepts behind the motions that he couldn't find the words for - some link between all this that he couldn't find. He didn't get it. "Did you call me into your office so you could tell me I'm acting childish? Why call me in then, if you don't really want to talk? Couldn't you spend your time better by-... tutoring one of the stupid kids or something?"

His voice was shaking like flame in the breeze, then it was snuffed out, buried back inside with another loud gulp. The boy's face was burning red, and it felt like his throat was closing - he swallowed again, needing to reach up and wipe a little snot from his nose. He sniffled when he tried to breathe, but he didn't get why. He wasn't sad. He was furious. He looked childish. He looked away from Professor Vernatis, hiding his face behind a robe sleeve, and looking back toward the door. Maybe he could run? Maybe if he got up and stood in the corner now, Professor Vernatis would just ignore him, and he could leave when he was finished... whatever discussion he had wanted.

For now, he sat still, waiting for the axe to fall. His eyes squeezed shut as he prepared himself for the professor's judgement.

The defiance. Artemis heard it. Saw it. Understood it. He was, after all, a child once long ago who was also angry and confused about things and didn't want to be told what to do. He was intelligent; smarter than anyone his year and possibly even the years above him. He was, at least he considered himself at that time, a prodigy in both DADA and Charms, and just knew that no one could or should tell him what to do. He never skipped his lessons, but he would sleep through the more boring ones and get snarky and talk back to his professors whenever he was annoyed. It was even worse when his favorite professor, his DADA professor, pulled him to the side and spoke with him about his behavior and attitude.

Just as he was doing with this young lad. His old professor was more of the "tough love" sort and Artemis wouldn't forget the detention and subsequent office meetings he had with the man for a good portion of his third year until he changed his ways. The longer he continued with his teenage angst and rotten attitude toward adults, the longer he would have to meet with his DADA professor. Artemis was a stubborn lad and thought that he would wait out the older man's determination to change him.

Artemis lost.

But he remembered there was one thing that his professor did for him that actually helped Artemis break down his walls a bit. He hoped that he was making the right move with this lad in front of him as he truly didn't want to assume things about George Henry that wasn't true. If he could avoid giving the boy detention for his recent behaviors and instead allow him a chance to just release whatever is pent up inside of him, he would rather do that. Standing up from his desk, Artemis walked around to where the boy was sitting. He chose to ignore most of what the kid was saying as it was said in a defense of sorts. The boy probably heard him move from his seat but didn't see him as Artemis noticed that his eyes were closed tightly. Almost as if he expected the man to yell at him or shake him. Neither of those options Artemis was interested in doing in the first place. This was a different situation, one that he would handle as if George were his own son. Though Artemis truly hoped that Yuya would never become this angsty.

Moving to the middle of his office, Artemis waved his wand and moved the larger objects against a far wall. He then conjured a Muggle punching bag and some child-sized gloves that would protect the lad's hands even if they weren't wrapped up. The last thing he wanted was for George to injure himself punching the bag. The Charms Professor wasn't exactly a fan of the sport as it was just two people beating each other black and blue...sometimes biting each other's ears off and was just wholesome violence that Artemis didn't think needed to be in the sports industry. But he remembered his DADA teacher conjuring one of these standing bags of sand and allowing him to punch it to his heart's content, punching his problems out until he became weak and allowed his professor to get to the heart of his troubles as a kid.

"Mr. Henry, as a Muggle-born I would assume that you know of the sport boxing? I won't be boxing you, so no worries there, but I know for a fact that it is a great source to help people release pent up frustrations. What I want you to do is to put those gloves onto your hands and come to stand in front of the bag. I want you to yell out whatever is frustrating you as you punch the bag and just release any pent up anger or resentment that you are holding in that body of yours."

Artemis moved over to the side to lean against his desk as he thought about the last thing George said before he went silent. "You asked if I had something better to do than to scold you about your behavior. I don't have another student to tutor, however, I found that you are more important than work and so I am focusing all of my attention on you," he gestured to the bag. "You may begin whenever you are ready.

George opened his eyes again after a long moment. Trying and failing to control the pace of his breathing, he could feel himself getting worked up again - scared, angry, and out of control. Counting to ten didn't do anything for him this time. Ten seconds was a long time to try and halt the spiral of thoughts that been sweeping through him like a hurricane since he got the letter from Professor Vernatis. This wasn't fair. It was an ambush, and he hadn't done anything to deserve it. But despite that, he knew it was deserved. Why else would it be happening to him? He shook his head before he even heard what Artemis was saying. George blinked the moisture out of his eyes and swallowed hard, looking up once he was steady.

He knew what boxing was, but he had no idea why it would be important right now. Were they going to have a boxing match? Was this some bizarre sort of detention he hadn't heard about? Something new to hide from his mom - another event on the long list of things he would never, ever tell her about. He'd been victim to countless terrors that, if his mother knew, would result in her withdrawing him from the school entirely. But she wasn't a witch, and wouldn't be able to arrange alternative education. It was Hogwarts or nothing. He'd rather die than give up. He let out a slow breath, grounding himself as that thought passed. It wasn't like Artemis was going to kill him. Right? He shivered, starting to feel like that girl with purple hair from the ball. Not everything was out to get him. Not yet, anyway.

Artemis' assurance went unheard, the boy tuning it out in favour of diving deep into his own worry, soaking up his thoughts. He listened when told to put the gloves on, shoving his fists into the padded gloves and striking what he thought would be a proper boxing pose. His stance wasn't great - it was pretty clear the boy had never taken any sort of martial arts class, but he had probably watched other people fight, whether on television or just the other kids at school.

he was wound up like a spring, staring daggers at that hanging punching bag - he wanted to punch it. It would help just to tire him out and let out some of the rage he couldn't express. But there had been a caveat to the offer - he was told to yell out whatever was on his mind with each punch. Yelling it out was unthinkable. He could barely find the words to verbalize it in a whisper, and he was sick of crying over it, so neither form of expression would cut it now. Violence would be how he let it out. In a swift motion, he swung at the punching bag, thinking of Aaron - though he wasn't sure if he was copying his technique, or he just wished the other Hufflepuff was in the place of the punching bag.

He took a breath, pausing as he tried to think of what to say - instead, he let out his frustration on the bag again. Another punch for Professor Vernatis. He was helping, but George till felt like he could do without the added pressure to speak - if he could have a punching bag and some gloves whenever he wanted, maybe he wouldn't feel so bad.

The man's comment about focusing on him made George break. He wound up for a punch and then stopped, drawing the gloves close to his chest, guarding his face as if the bag were going to punch back. He sniffled and shut his eyes, pausing before returning with another punch. He wouldn't yell, but he finally spoke. "I- I don't know," he admitted. "I don't want to go to class anymore. Everyone from Hufflepuff keeps... looking at me!"

Not really, but who didn't feel like the star of the show at his age? He punched the bag again. "They keep acting like it's- my fault, but I didn't even mean to!" No explanations, his statements punctuated by the dull thud of his fists against the bag. The exertion distracted him from crying - his breathing was still fast, but it was steady, and the shakes had stopped since he found a way to let his energy out. "Everybody is mad at me!"

Artemis stood against his desk as he watched the boy release his frustrations on the punching bag. At first, he figured that the lad wouldn't say anything, let along start hitting the bag, but after a while, the child started began to swing his arms in earnest. Then he started speaking and it was a bit heartbreaking to hear the words coming from the boy's mouth.

He didn't want to go to class anymore. That was understandable, especially toward the end of the year when all you wanted to do was lounge around pray that summer vacation was coming the next day. Artemis remembered how he felt in his first year at Hogwarts and how alone he felt. He sympathized with how George was feeling about his school lessons. But not wanting to go to class was not an excuse for not attending. The lad needed to go to class: to learn, to socialize, to practice. He was a skilled young wizard and Artemis knew that the boy was more knowledgeable about more than he was willing to admit that he knew. If only he could get it through the boy's head that school was important.

George's next outburst was about how his housemates were always looking at him and thinking things were his fault...that he didn't mean to do it. Do what though? Artemis figured that it would be nice to be noticed by your housemates. Why would the other Hufflepuffs cause so much distress? Was...did it have something to do with what had happened in the common room a few months ago? He had heard about the horrible situation; fire and lost students. Almost as bad of a situation as the Slytherin's common room debacle. But what exactly did this little boy have to do with that horrible day? Were his housemates blaming him for something? Artemis didn't understand and couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea of this gentle lad doing anything to harm anyone. What was his fault and why did he think that his classmates were blaming him?

"Everybody is mad at me!"

The tears came and Artemis couldn't help but shift as he wanted to grab the boy into a hug. It was almost as if he was looking at Yuya standing in front of him and his paternal instincts were kicking in to comfort the boy and hold him close to his chest. Artemis could play the stern role all he wanted, but when there was a student who was in need of having comfort or seemingly in need of a parental figure, Artemis would always go to them and do his best to make sure they were alright. And he was just about to do just that when his office door opened and his old friend, and the boy's Head of House, walked in.

"Gentlemen. I believe I was summoned for a conversation?"

Artemis internally sighed as Caradoc stood in the doorway. He knew his little badger better than the Charms professor did and figured the man would be better able to help him get through to the young first year about the importance of school and, most importantly, the bigger issues of the lad's mental state of thinking that everyone was mad at him. There was much more going on than simple rebelliousness on George Henry's part.

"Thank you for joining us, Professor Browne," Artemis formally said, keeping the formality in his voice so that the lad would hopefully remember to keep his own formal tones when addressing his Head of House. "We were just discussing and working out the frustrations that Mr. Henry has built up inside. Maybe you could help the two of us get to the bottom of his concerns?"

George couldn't hear Caradoc's shoes clacking as he walked to the office, too busy punching out his frustrations into the innocent punching bag that Artemis had brought in for him. His gloved hands thudded against the padding, the boy taking wild swings at it. "Ow," he muttered, pausing the onslaught to rub at his arm. When he heard knocking on the door, his first instinct was to hide - but when he noticed the familiar pattern of the knock, his heart sunk, and his arms went limp at his sides. Wet streaks went down his cheeks and his eyes were puffy and red - but he refused to let another tear fall in front of his Head of House. That didn't stop the young man from looking absolutely miserable, though.

His gloved hands lifted up to shield his eyes, concealing him long enough for him to blink away a few more tears. He offered no explanation to his Head of House just yet - the look of puzzlement on Professor Browne's face was already burned into his memory, hitting him like a punch in the stomach every time he shut his eyes. Something about his expression just made the situation worse. As if Professor Browne just couldn't imagine what had possessed George to go and make a fool out of himself in such a flagrant manner. Everybody in Hufflepuff loved Professor Browne because he was so kind, but George braced for his kind words, waiting to feel the humiliation of needing a grown-up to stop you from crying when you were already twelve. It was behaviour people would expect from Jake, not George.

He let his hands fall again and knocked the gloves off of his hands, letting them fall where they may before he swiftly kicked them over beneath the punching bag. The boy shook his head in disbelief, folding his arms over his chest, his hands a bit red from the abuse he'd just given them on the punching bag. Artemis spoke to clarify the situation for Professor Browne - unfortunately, something in the phrasing was enough to set the boy off. Formalities would not be followed. The frustrations that Mr. Henry has built up inside?

"Oh, so this is my fault too?" George said, struggling to find the same defiant strength he'd been speaking with earlier. His voice was hoarse, and he squirmed uncomfortably. He kept his arms locked in place, restraining himself from swinging wildly toward the punching bag, or the nearest thing he could knock over. The boy took a deep breath, preparing to bellow his grievances to the first adults he'd felt comfortable sharing them with. "Everyone is mad at me because I fixed the floor."

Caradoc did not have a chance to act before George lifted one hand out to jab an accusatory finger at him. "And don't lie, and tell me that they aren't, because I know that they are. Nobody wants to sit with me anymore except Jake and that's only because he feels bad!" He had an argument ready to refute any sort of bright side the men could try and show him. The boy was well-prepared for a meltdown. Of course, it wasn't to do with the floor that people wouldn't like to sit with him - but would you like to sit with the boy who looked intent to murder his eggs at every breakfast since the fire?

"...Close the door," he added, glancing nervously out into the main classroom as Caradoc entered. He remembered himself slowly, his arms sliding back down to his sides again. "...Please. Professor Browne."