The Grim ➸ R. Weasley

Red like a salamander

  
     
Dementor attacks apparently do not get you out of class because Monday came and Jamie was told he was needed to help aid Hagrid's class first thing. He also got a note from Professor McGonagall, saying how she would like to see him in her office during lunch once he finished eating — he figured it was about the spell he had made for Gregory.

He dragged his feet to breakfast, his robe folded and laid across one of his shoulders, on the other shoulder rested his school bag. His curly brown hair was pulled back into a bun to keep it out of his eyes (Pansy had insisted on fixing his hair that way, saying it would look great and keep the hair out of his eyes).

"Lookin' mighty girly, Black." Marcus Flint sneered out a shrill laugh when Jamie sat down. Draco leaned towards the older boy, his eyes sharp as knifes.

"Make fun of him again and my father will not be funding the Quidditch team anymore."

Marcus closed his mouth.

Draco sat down with a satisfied smirk, his grey eyes looking up at Jamie. Jamie bumped their shoulders together, smirking as well. Marcus might have been the Quidditch Captain, but Jamie hated his guts, it was nice to hear the boy shut up for once.

Gregory sat across from Jamie, he looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and his untouched bedhead. His shirt was crinkled and his tie crooked. Vincent moved to sit next to him, fixing Gregory's tie and trying (and failing) at smoothing his shirt.

"What happened to you?" Jamie asked, spreading strawberry jam onto a piece of toast.

"What you said, about me being a beacon of hope for kids like me, remember that?"

Jamie nodded, nose scrunching in confusion.

"Well I started to write out speeches, sketch out ideas for posters—even though I'm terrible at art— and I tried to come up with fonts which I thought would be the easiest for most."

Jamie blinked. He had not even thought of starting yet. Gregory pulled out a roll of parchment, handing it over. Jamie accepted it, carefully reading over what was written.
 
    
     
All my life I thought I was stupid. I thought this because this is what others had told me my whole life. My parents. My tutors. My teachers. 'Reading is a skill even the youngest of young could do', is what my father used to say to me before screaming about how he could read in this sleep. I don't mean to make this all about me, I'm actually doing this all for you. But I'm sure that in sharing this, you can take comfort in the fact you are not alone. Being a wizard who cannot read is terrible. You can't read potion instructions and your potion explodes, covering you in boils. You can't transfigure an object if you can't read the spell to do so - same with charms. You fail these classes that you want to pass, that you know you can pass, but you can't because you don't even know what to do or what to say.

The teachers might be patient the first few times you ask for help, but they will slowly grow to dislike you. They might think you as a slacker who wants them to do all the work. They might start to look and even treat you as if you're stupid. The very people who are supposed to teach you, care for you - give up on you. Now this might not happen to you, but it happened to me, still is happening, actually.