The Boy: Brandon Dursely

Chapter 11: Detention

Brandon Dursely was nervous. So, so nervous. His familiar greeted him as soon as he entered the room and he dropped himself on the bed and buried himself on the pillow.

"Woof!" The pup licked his hand and he smiled a little. Sebastian was clearly trying to ask if he was okay.

"I'm fine, Seb. I just don't get it why the man seem to hate me so much!"

He pulled the pup to himself and let Sebastian lick his face. Bran laughed. He laughed a few more times, enjoying the playfulness of Sebastian and wondering what would he tell his Mum and Dad slash Aunt and Uncle when he writes a letter back home.

The pup licked his chin.

"That tickled, Seb." Brandon gazed at his wristwatch and sighed as he saw it flash 6:41.

"I better get going now, or else Snape'll have my bum. Bye, boy."

"Woof!" The creature ran in a little circle and laid himself down on Brandon's bed. Brandon hurried towards the corridors after asking Iann Verona where Snape's office was and was thankful that he found it in less than ten minutes.

As he saw the door from a distance, his mind was saying- no, screaming, that he's fine. His heart just didn't. His chest hurt from the jittery nerves and his spime was tingling, and God, it was cold in Snape's domain.

So much like the man himself.

But he can't back out now, can he? Or he'll be in more trouble.

So he gathered all the strength he could muster and knocked. A gruff voice said, "Enter" and he did.

"Good evening, Professor." Snape was head bent towards a paper with stacks and stacks of paper on his desk. Behind him was a treasure; shelves and shelves of potions. On one side were countless ingredients and a workstation for two or three, complete with sink and all the things that only exists in Brandon's dreams. Nearest to Snape was a tall, alnost endless bookshelf, with books that Brandon knew he would die to get his hands on. It was not dark, nor cold as Bran expected. It was warm and homey.

"Quit gaping and close your mouth, Dursely. Sit." The Professor now looked at him with a blank face and Brandon approached the lone chair in front of Snape's table. He sat silently, waiting for the man to tell what he needs to do.

Scratching of quills and small murmurs were heard and every time a mental clock ticks, Brandon can feel his throat tighten.

"Dursely, get on the workstation. Stop tapping the floor with your blasted shoes, boy!"

Brandon stopped, wide eyed. He was tapping his shoes? He wasn't even aware of it!

"Now, Dursely!" Brandon scrambled on his feet and quickly made his way to the workstation, back turned against the man on the desk.

Snape eyed the boy. He was lean and agile. He seemed to qiute a wreck when faced with consequences. The boy is well treated, even pampered, if one will! The boy was tall, too. Clearly from the Potter side.

"On the station, you will see the a small knife and a chopping board. Be careful with the knife, Dursely. You wouldn't want to ruin the ingredients with your blood, wouldn't you? On a jar to your left, you will see the flobberworms. Dice them well and thorough, and maybe I'll forget your cheek."

The boy did as he was told without question and had the common sense to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, but not before asking for permission to take his robes off so that '...it won't be stained' which he made him notice a few things about the boy. First, Dursely had a high regard for cleanliness. He can also see that the boy had enough common sense and was quick to pick up any instruction.