"IT'S NOT FAIR!" he screamed, startling McGonagall. "I ALWAYS GET BLAMED FOR SHITE THAT I HAVEN'T DONE! IT'S NOT FAIR! WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"
"Mr Pot-" McGonagall attempted to interrupt, but Harry was in no mood to listen.
"JUST SHUT IT! I HATE THIS! NO ONE EVER BELIEVES ME! UMBITCH KEEPS CALLING ME NAMES AND MAKING STUFF UP AND NO ONE SAYS THAT SHE'S FULL OF SHITE, BUT THE SECOND I TRY TO SAY THAT I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, I'M JUST TOLD TO BLOODY WELL BELT UP. WELL, YOU JUST BELT UP FOR A CHANGE!"
McGonagall blinked. In all her years in education, she had never been told to "belt up". She forced down a wholly inappropriate grin. Harry did look rather cute when he foamed and shouted like this. Sort of a cross between James at his most impossible and a ranting Severus. Oh, and look, now he was waving his arms around. Sirius used to do that all the time. McGonagall felt quite nostalgic and misty-eyed watching the latest generation of Potters scream and gesticulate.
It took another few minutes for Harry's tantrum to finally run its course, but when it did, and he slowly sputtered to a halt, exhausted and hoarse, he abruptly realized what he had been saying and to whom. Oh, Professor McGonagall was going to kill him.
Feeling rather sheepish, he hesitantly raised his eyes to meet hers, and instantly felt even more childish. While he had ranted on, she had seated herself comfortably at her desk, summoned a teapot, and was simply sitting there, waiting for him to finish. "Are you done?" she asked calmly, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes'm," Harry croaked. He felt about three inches tall, small and grubby and foolish.
"Here." She held out a glass of ice water to soothe his raw throat, and her concern for his welfare only made him feel worse.
" 'M sorry," he whispered as he took the glass and gratefully sipped it, feeling the coldness sliding down his abused throat.
"Am I to take it from your outburst that you have been the victim of a smear campaign on the part of That Woman?" At Harry's look of confusion, McGonagall clarified. "Professor Umbi- Umbridge?" She hastily took a sip of tea to cover her lapse. She had nearly said "Umbitch" and that would never do.
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. Now that his tantrum was spent, he wished he could just sink through the floor and forget what he'd said. What had he said anyway? He vaguely remembered screaming about it being unfair and тАУ uh oh тАУ he had probably called her 'Umbitch' and тАУ oh, no. Merlin, please, no. He couldn't have been that stupid! Surely he hadn't told Professor McGonagall of all people to "belt up"! " 'M really sorry," he said again, staring at his toes. "I don't know why I said all those things. I've never ever done something like this before."
A shadow passed across McGonagall's face. "Well, Mr Potter, perhaps that is why you did," she said, forcing her voice to remain brisk.
She had had a few chats with Severus тАУ not to mention Molly Weasley тАУ about what Harry had shared of his homelife at the Dursleys, and after several decades as a teacher, she was not unfamiliar with child and adolescent psychology. Harry was making an amazing recovery from all those years of neglect and harsh treatment, but it would be foolish not to expect him to have occasional outbursts. Throwing a tantrum was one way of testing his limits, his safety, and his newfound ability to express anger. It was clear that Harry had learned how to control his emotions in the face of great provocation. Now it was time for him to learn how тАУ and when тАУ to express them.
Harry frowned in confusion. Huh? What did Professor McGonagall mean by that? And why wasn't she mad and yelling at him? Or taking away a zillion points and giving him detention until next Christmas?
"Now. You said something about Professor Umbridge telling lies and that the other students were beginning to believe her?"
Harry squirmed. He really didn't want to talk about this. He would just sound like a whinging baby. But his Head of House was waiting. "Erm, well, yeah. I mean she says stuff about how I think I'm better than everyone 'cause I'm The Boy Who Lived and I feel like rules are for other people but I don't have to follow them, and the Headmaster can't do anything 'cause of me being, y'know, The Boy Who Lived, and just some other stuff like that."
"And the other students believe her?"
"Not at first they didn't, but nowтАж she just keeps saying it and saying it, and after a while you just start believing what you've heard a thousand times." Harry reflected sadly that he had certainly believed Uncle Vernon when he kept calling him "freak". Maybe he shouldn't be so hard on the other kidsтАж
"I see." McGonagall's voice sounded awfully angry, and Harry winced as he caught sight of her pursed lips. Oooooh, he was in for it!
"Mr Potter, I wish you had come to me тАУ or your guardian тАУ with this sooner, but I am glad to finally learn the extent of the problem. In the meantime, however, we still have your atrocious behavior to address."
Harry gulped. "Yes'm."
She pointed sternly to a corner of the room, and Harry's eyes widened. No! She couldn't mean тАУ
"Into the corner, Mr Potter. Perhaps twenty minutes contemplating your actions will encourage you to think of more appropriate ways to express your frustration than yelling at a faculty member."
"Oh, please, Professor, can't I just stay here an' contemplate them?" Harry begged. Standing in a corner was how toddlers were punished. He was nearly twelve!
"Would you care to make it thirty minutes?"
Groaning in humiliation, Harry dragged himself into the indicated corner and woefully planted his nose in it. He could only be grateful that Ron and Draco and the others couldn't see him like this! This was awful. He'd rather spend a week in detention or write a thousand lines than be treated like a baby... which, he supposed, was why McGonagall had done it. And to be fair, shrieking and jumping up and down like that wasn't exactly the way almost-twelve year olds were supposed to behave. His lips quirked unwillingly. He must have looked a right berk. He guessed he should be grateful McGonagall hadn't whipped out a camera and started taking snaps of him like that and then posted them in the Common Room. It would have served him right if she had.
Harry shuddered at the very thought. Okay, maybe the corner wasn't so bad after all. It wasn't like she had screamed at him or zapped him with a mouth soaping spellтАж Not yet anyway. Harry grimaced. He really didn't want to have a mouth full of soap suds.
The idea of anything in his mouth reminded his stomach that it was dinner time. Harry fidgeted as he heard his stomach growl noisily. He hoped McGonagall hadn't heard that. He guessed he probably wouldn't get any dinner tonight тАУ after his outburst, he supposed he didn't really deserve any food anyway тАУ but he didn't really want everyone to know how hungry he was.
Of course, if his da found out he'd skipped a meal тАУ oh, Merlin! What was his da going to say when he found out? His guardian was always in such control of himself, hearing how Harry had lost it would really disappoint him. Harry drooped in dejection.
Behind him, Minerva sipped her tea and watched Harry's back. Really, the child posititvely radiated his emotions. Who would have thought that it would be so easy to follow the boy's thoughts merely by seeing how he stood in the corner? She had seen Harry move from shame to contemplation to apprehension and most recently to unhappiness. That, coupled with the sounds of an empty belly, reminded her that when she was finished here, she needed to summon a house elf with a tray for two. From what she had heard, Harry had already gone to sleep too many times with a hungry tummy. She had no intention of allowing that to continue while she was in charge of him.