REPUTATION . . . cedric diggory

𝖨: Dwarf Diaries

Professor Flitwick's glare, because the man stood at an astounding height of three foot one and holds an extravagant personality of a towering giant, is not a very frightening sight to see. His spiky eyebrows are furrowed towards each other like big, furry caterpillars, inched together with the disappointment and denunciation that line his face. Upon his famed delinquent's arrival, he insists on her position of settling into the cushiony blue arm chair across from him, and his own standing on the wobbly office chair that creaked and croaked like a whiny old man. With this proposed set-up, he towers over the girl, sparing no effort in venturing to look down at her with an air of superiority, but unavailing and fruitless, seeing as the sight of his 'children's size-four elf shoes' greet her from just behind the thick marble slab of his desk.

Quinn can't restrain her humor at the bright, pointy, baby shoes, unfortunately letting out a derisive snort that only bring about another round of displeased looks from the stout teacher in front of her. He gives her a sharp look (or as reprimanding as he could without looking like he was having indigestion) and raises his eyebrows impossibly high, the strips of wiry strands nearly touching the big tuft of stringy hair that laid atop his head like a taxidermal badger.

Everything fell silent in the small office, with Flitwick obviously waiting for her to explain herself, and her looking for anything to do but such a demeaning action. She hit her dirty-sneaker-clad shoe against the musty carpet at a pace that resembled the rhythm of the song she'd been listening to that morning— thwacking the ground with a repeated beat and mentally humming 'Smells like Teen Spirit.' It seemed physically impossible for Quinn to do only one thing at one time, with multiple thoughts running through her brain, a plethora of fiddling accomplished by her fingers, and of course, the customary foot-tapping.

There's a draft coming from above, she thinks to herself. Tap. Does Hogwarts even have AC? Tap. Probably not. Tap. The school must be against evolution or something. Tap. Explains some of the people here. Tap. Tap. That was rude. Tap. Tap. As if you're ever nice. Tap. Tap. Tap. Oh shut up, Quinn.

"I don't understand why I'm here," she finally declares, folding her arms defiantly and staring at Professor Flitwick crossly. People like to say Quinn spoke with an air of intelligence, a tone that perfectly matched her blue and silver robes, and place in the house of the wise. But, her words are not frequently heeded to with very much attention, as most people have already deciphered it as a mumbo-jumbo mix of nonsensical book quotes, tirades about conforming to societal standards, and criticizing quibbles for nearly every person she had the misfortune of interacting with. Not that Quinn cares; she doesn't need them to listen for her to speak— she does it anyways.

The old professor clears his throat profusely, as if he'd accidentally swallowed a large insect. He straightens his back officially, as if the action would make him taller than his half-goblin stature could ever possibly be.

"According to bystanders of the scene, this morning, you referred to Mister Roger Davies with a. . . certain word. I will not repeat it, but I do believe the foul term used was not-,"

"Dick," Quinn cheerfully finishes for him, smiling pleasantly as the word flowed out of her mouth as smooth as one would say 'and' or 'eloquent'. "That's the word."

Professor Flitwick makes a noise of indignation that resembles one of a strangled dolphin. His mouth parts and he stares at the girl, bewildered. He does not, however, reprimand her use of foul wordage, instead watching as she further settled herself into her seat comfortably. She continued, picking her legs up and draping them across the heavy arm of the chair like a gangster from an old-fashioned movie. She picks the book bag in her lap up and plops it onto the seat next to her before turning to Professor Flitwick with an unbothered face.