The New Life

Goodbye Charlie

I move my way through the corridors. Proud, happy… Ha! ‘Strutting’ if you will. Merlin, how I detest that word. And yet, there is nothing for it, I am officially strutting like a bloody stag. There. I said it. And what is the reason for my sudden change of character? Why, Mr. Weasley is leaving today. Finally. Had you told me years ago one of the Weasley bunch would ever make me happy, I would’ve laughed at you, in my head mind, never out loud, but there you go, it’s making me happy. I would’ve been skipping through the bloody halls if it would be at all plausible for me to retain my intimidation factor afterwards. But no matter, I’ll settle for strutting.

Scolding some second years for being late for supper even brings a smile to my lips. Yes, I do believe I have finally gone bonkers. And once again, it has to do with the potions mistress. I am really starting to detest that woman. Contrary to popular believe, I found her quite amusing in her younger years, but now, with her in my employ, I truly start to hate her.

I have an unreasonable hate for Mr. Weasley as well, though I cannot possibly understand why. Remus trying to insist that the man is gay doesn’t help matters. It would imply I have a personal interest in who Granger spends her time with. I do not care. Truly, I don’t. I settle for blaming the fact that he is a Weasley. It’s reason enough to dislike him.

I regain a little of my composure moments before stepping into the Great Hall, stalking up the aisle towards the High table, robes billowing around me, until I reach the podium and whirl around to face the packed hall once more. One look silences the chatter around me and for good measure, I glare. Even if my heart isn’t in it at the moment, I can still strike an imposing figure.

I express some regret about losing our guest professor, tell them he will be sorely missed, and express the heartfelt desire for him to return one day soon for more lectures. Yeah right, and all the while my inner whatever it is which I have is doing summersaults of joy in my head.

Settling myself down at the high table, I opt for a nice piece of rare stake, some beans and a bit of mash, topping it off with a good glass of pumpkin juice. I am beside myself with joy, I really am. The staff shoot sideways glances my way all through dinner, but there is not one of them who dares comment on my good mood. Even now, me being a much more pleasant man than I have been for the last 25 years, they still take my good moods as rare, and fear to show me they notice. Maybe they think my mood can be spooked, like a unicorn is spooked by sudden noises. I do not mind, they are right, them ignoring me keeps me happy a lot longer than them trying to engage me in useless conversation.

After finishing my meal, I push myself away from the table and move my way over to where the Weasley brat is sitting. I shake his hand, tell him to keep in touch (please don’t) and excuse myself. I believe there is a fine bottle of scotch up in my office just waiting to be consumed. A celebratory drink, if you will.

During the course of the evening, only one thing irks me. Only one thing happened to dampen my mood just a tiny bit. Standing by my window, I can see her walking him to the front gates, hugging him and kissing him goodbye. It dampens my mood just enough to send my glass flying into the wall above the hearth, right over a smirking Remus Lupin’s head.

And yet, I still do not care. I don’t.