Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

In some cases, a few of the more assholish teachers tried to sabotage me with pop quizzes or claims about my homework being late or some such malarky, but I was able to stomp their attempts flat with logic and simply being the top of all my classes. No matter how they whined to the administration, I was the top student in my year, and the bean counters and pencil-pushers loved the fact I brought the average grade scores up. So, they often ignored the teachers' complaints. Being the best had its perks.

Of course, when I saw the smug look on Mrs. Jonson's face when I got to her class after dropping off Harry, I knew something was up. The Math teacher was one of the worst offenders when it came to trying to get me in trouble.

'Probably something to do with the fact I keep acing all of her tests, and always know the answers to the questions whenever she calls on me in class,' I mused. Or it might have something to do with the fact she was related to Donny Miller, and I'd made that bully crap his pants whenever he tried to beat up Sam. Literally. Laxative potions snuck into his food worked every time to humiliate the little snot. Even after the brute had graduated Mrs. Jonson had apparently kept up some sort of vendetta towards me for it. She could never prove I'd done it, but that didn't seem to matter much to her.

"Mr. Rose, so glad you could make it here on time," she said, her voice oozing false sincerity. "Before I forget, however, the vice-principal wanted to see you."

"Cool, I'll see him after school if I have the time," I replied. I knew for a fact that the vice-principal was an incompetent piece of shit who loved to turn a blind eye to any bullying problems, and caved easily whenever any parents of said bullies denied their 'precious darling's' involvements.

And I was pretty sure he was skimming off the top of the school's budget because he had a nice, fancy car that was too expensive for his salary.

I enjoyed the look on Mrs. Jonson's face as it twisted with indignation. "No, you'll go see him now."

"Fine, not like I was going to learn anything in this class anyways," I said with a roll of my eyes. My classmates tittered at the comeback, just as unamused by Mrs. Jonson's antics as I was at this point. She hadn't made many friends – if any – among the students for her surly attitude and harsh penalties for missed work.

She glared at me, but I ignored her as I left the classroom. I made my way to the office, and went in. The secretary shot me a sympathetic look as I told her I was here to see Mr. Birch and waved me in.

"Hey, there, Mr. Birch," I said, greeting the vice-principal as I entered his office. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did. Have a seat, Mr. Rose," he requested. He was a boringly average man in his fifties with a bald spot on the top of his head, and he wore tweed jackets to make himself look more scholarly.

I sat down, and waited for him to speak.

"Mr. Rose, I've had some complaints from the mother of one of our younger students," Mr. Birch began.

"Let me guess, the name starts with 'D,' and ends with 'Ursley,'" I cut him off. "Is she complaining that I'm not letting her cunt of a son beat up her nephew whenever he wants?"

"That is not the issue!" Mr. Birch spluttered, and I shook my head.

"I don't believe you," I said, folding my arms.

"Mr. Rose! That is not the issue and you know it!" Mr. Birch snarled. "And don't think I haven't gotten complaints about your disrespectful attitude! You better start following the straight and narrower, or else!"

"Do something about the rampant bullying in this place and maybe I'll start giving a damn," I shot back to the vice-principal. "There's nothing you can do to scare me, either."

"Oh? Then you must not care about your transcripts, then," Mr. Birch threatened. "If you don't straighten up, you can kiss your chances at getting into college goodbye!"

"Threaten my grades again and I'll shatter that cueball you call a skull," I snarled at him, causing the man to rear back in shock from the venom in my voice.

"You, you can't threaten me like that!" Mr. Birch gasped.

"Can't I?" I growled. "You're a terrible administrator and a worse person. If you try and throw hands with me, I will fight back with everything I have."

"Get out!" he shouted at me. I decided to do as he asked, and got up and left his office, plans swirling through my mind as I did.

"Can I make a call?" I asked the secretary, who stared at me with wide eyes.

"What the hell happened, Ed?" Sam demanded, whispering to me as he and a bunch of other students watched as Mr. Birch was dragged out of his office by several police officers the next morning.

"The man made the mistake of threatening me. I retaliated before he could do anything," I whispered back, my voice low.

"What did you dig up on him, anyways?" Sam asked.

"Mostly just graft. See his shiny car? No way he could afford that on his salary," I replied. "Probably has some other things as well."

"How'd you manage to do it so quickly?" Sam wondered.

"I know a family friend who's an attorney. I told him my suspicions and he made some calls of his own," I explained.

'Of course, even I'm surprised by how fast this happened. Who knew Tarsworth was so influential?' I mused, watching as Mr. Birch was shoved into the police car.

"Squibs gotta squib together," I said under my breath with a snicker.

"That sounds ominous," Sam informed me.

"It's the truth, though," I replied. "Now come on, let's find Harry. I have a gift for him. And you too, I suppose."

"Right now?" Sam asked, surprised.

....

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