Rage

[Vilhelmine Dahl]

He'd forgotten. Again. He'd forgotten her birthday. Was it really so difficult to remember? Did Vilhelmine have to remind him? None of her friends' parents forgot when it was their child's birthday. At the very least they sent a card - probably presents, too. Vilhelmine hadn't heard a thing. Not a single, pitiful word. No, there was not a shred of doubt in her mind that her dad had forgotten, and he had forgotten one more time than she could take it.

The disused classroom was peaceful, until Vilhelmine arrived. She closed the door carefully behind her, just about keeping a lid on things, as she'd always done. Take it on the chin. Don't complain. Do well at school. Things will be all right. But things weren't all right, were they? They were barely even acceptable. Everything everyone had ever told her, it was all lies. Nobody cared, not really - not even the people who were supposed to care the most. So who could she even trust?

The stools were heavy, but not too heavy for Vilhelmine to throw. The first one crashed into the leg of another, bringing it down with it like a pair of bowling pins. The second collided with a desk, and the third with the wall, and then her arms were tired, so she pulled down the books from a bookshelf, tearing off the covers, thick plumes of dust billowing into the air. She started to cough, eyes smarting, but didn't stop. She hadn't done enough yet. It would never be enough, not really. She could have torn down the entire school and it wouldn't have been enough to stop the aching in her heart.

 

[Professor Matt Alcott-Ward]

Being a professor was something Matt was getting used to. Finally. After more than a year. In his defence, the year had flown by. He couldn't believe April was a second year, and the year was almost halfway over. The holidays were around the corner, and he was excited to spend some time with his family. Excited as well as worried, but he hoped things would have settled down now that October had some time to get used to the idea of them moving in.

He was now on his walking along the corridor, letting his mind wander idly. This idle wander came to an abrupt halt when he heard a loud crash from a nearby classroom. Immediately, he reacted. Rushing into the classroom, he took in the situation in in a second and saw nobody was hurt or bleeding. In fact, there was only one student here, and she seemed to be the cause of the chaos. The girl was coughing as she was tearing books apart, and Matt's initial worry returned immediately. No child would do this without some sort of reason, and the girl seemed really upset.

As he neared her, he realised he recognised her. The girl was in the same dormitory as April, and he had at least tried his best to remember the people she slept in one room with. It took him a few more seconds to remember her name, but by then he was close enough to start coughing as well. He waved his wand to blow some of the dust away. "Miss Dahl, please stop destroying these books. I highly doubt they did anything to you." He told her, his voice gentle and calm. "Perhaps we can talk about what has you so upset."

 

[Vilhelmine Dahl]

Vilhelmine was tearing the pages out of an old Transfiguration textbook when the door opened. She stopped mid-tear, momentarily frozen in fear, her heart beating her ribs like an angry fist. If it was Professor Styx, she was well and truly done for. But it was not Professor Styx - it was Professor Ward. Vilhelmine knew him better as 'April's dad,' though of course she would never have addressed him as such. Still, her acquaintance with his daughter somewhat reduced the strength of his authority in her eye: he was not so much a professor as a parent, just like all the other parents she despised so well. Gritting her teeth, she tore a fistful of pages from the book, throwing them up in the air so that they fell and scattered like confetti. Talk about it? Talk? Adults didn't want to talk. They just wanted kids to behave, to do as they were told. "NO! YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK!" she screamed, sweeping her arms across the top of another shelf. Several ornaments and another book went tumbling to the ground. She tried to pull the bookcase right over, but it was heavy and wouldn't budge. "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME! GET AWAY FROM ME! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" She lobbed another book across the room, in Professor Ward's direction, though not in an attempt to hit him - if she'd meant to do that, it would have flown straight at his face. "GET. OUT."

 

[Professor Matt Alcott-Ward]

Matt wasn't sure what he had expected. Perhaps he had thought his presence would shock the young girl in front of him enough to make her let go of her obvious rage for a moment. Or maybe he simply overestimated how intimidating he was. Vilhelmine didn't seem like she wanted to talk, and she made that very clear by screaming and breaking more things. He was taken aback by the force of her anger, and vaguely wondered if he was equipped to deal with this. Perhaps he should go fetch her head of house? But he couldn't just leave her alone. She was clearly in a lot of pain. He flinched slightly when a book was thrown in his way, even though it didn't actually hit him. Great, now he had shown weakness. To make up for it, he took another step closer to the girl. He could sense she didn't really want to hurt him. She was just frustrated, angry, and probably scared.. "Vilhelmine, right? I do care about what is going on, but it's okay if you don't want to tell me. I would really like it if you stopped destroying things, but if you need to do a bit more to get your feelings out..." He drew his wand and repaired a few of the torn-up books with a simple reparo spell. "Go ahead. I can repair them again when you're done."

 

[Vilhelmine Dahl]

Vilhelmine wasn't sure what she expected Professor Ward to do. Yell at her - take some house points away, perhaps. She was destroying school property, after all, not to mention shouting at an authority figure. But he did nothing of the sort. He stepped forward calmly, like she'd just invited him to have a picnic with her, and then, to her complete amazement, started repairing the books and offering them back to her. She stared at his hands, the anger holding its breath as she contemplated this unprecedented act of kindness. For a second, she almost seemed calm. Then the wave gathered momentum again, and she grabbed one of the repaired books and tore it apart a second time. It wasn't as fulfilling any more, though. Not now she knew her destruction was reparable. She wanted to damage something permanently, and now that she couldn't, she was more frustrated than ever.

Throwing the book down, Vilhelmine slid to the floor, landing ungracefully with her back against the bookshelf. She ran her hands through her hair, grabbing at it, half wishing she could pull it all out. She missed being a skinhead. She'd been tougher, then. Nobody had been kind to her, or thought she needed sympathy. Now Professor Ward was treating her as if she couldn't cope with this on her own, and she didn't like it. She wanted to yell at him, curse at him, but she couldn't; he was her professor, an adult with the power to make her life miserable, if he so desired, or if she so gave him the opportunity. So she just clenched her eyes and mouth shut hard, trying to steady the rapid rising and falling of her chest, to keep her dynamite heart contained. Do not pretend like you care, Sir, she thought, bitterly. You are like the others. You are useless. You are so useless. She buried her head in her forearms and started to cry. "He forgot my birthday," she said, her voice muffled and thick with tears. "He said he would not forget, but he always forgets. I am his daughter. How could he forget me?"

 

[Professor Matt Alcott-Ward]

Matt wasn't sure if he had been making the right move. He had never been in a situation like this before. April had her tantrums now and again, but they were never like this. They had always been about childish, silly things. He had never seen his own daughter as hurt as he now saw Vil be, and he could only hope with his whole being that he never would.

As the girl slumped down to the floor he knelt down too, towering over her just felt wrong. He watched her carefully, trying not to show his own emotions. The girl was clearly trying to keep in tears, but then couldn't anymore. As she started to cry, Matt felt even worse. He wondered if there were any professor's the girl trusted more than him. Maybe her head of house? But Vil was quiet, withdrawn. He had the sinking feeling she didn't have anyone she truly trusted in the school. He had known she didn't appear to have many friends, had been quiet, why hadn't he looked into this before?

Her words, when she finally spoke to him, made him freeze. Immediately he felt anger, but that had no purpose here so he tried to squash it. No wonder the girl was upset if her father kept forgetting her birthday. Matt had no idea about her family situation and history, but he knew that any child would be upset about this. His mind scrambled for something to say. He knew that saying anything that could be seen as insulting to her father would be a bad call, but he also had to make sure she understood this wasn't okay, and that it was normal to be angry. He cleared his throat a little. "That's horrible." He said gently. "I can completely understand that that makes you sad, and angry. I think I would feel the same." He shifted so his position on the floor was a little more comfortable, he was really starting to feel his age. "I don't know your father, and I can't speak about the situation specifically. What I do know, is that this isn't your fault. The responsibility for a healthy and safe environment for a child lies with the parent, and that includes things like this." He hesitated, not sure what else to say without speaking badly of her father. "This isn't on you, and it's not because you aren't enough or because you don't deserve it. Please try to remember that, Vilhelmine." That was all he could do, wasn't it? That and try to ensure she wouldn't get into too much trouble. He knew not saying anything to her head of house about the destruction would be too lenient, but he also couldn't imagine that giving her hours of detention for this was in any way helpful to the girl. He would have to hope Professor Pratt was reasonable, though he wasn't sure how much of the situation he was comfortable sharing. This was her personal life, but it was also something that teachers may need to be aware of. He wasn't sure what he should do, but he sensed that rushing the girl to get her out of here wouldn't work. She didn't need to feel like a problem he had to check off his list, if she needed a moment to cry or to compose herself, he would give her that. So he sat in silence with her, waiting to see what else he could do for her.

 

[Vilhelmine Dahl]

When Professor Ward started to speak, Vilhelmine lifted her head slowly to look at him, an expression of disbelief on her face. He understood? She doubted he really, truly, completely understood, but the fact he was speaking to her gently instead of sending her straight to Professor Pratt's office made her wonder if really he did understand a little, after all. She wiped her face, though fresh tears soon came to replace those she dried away. While she appreciated his attempts to make her feel better, she was sure he was wrong; this was on her. If only she were a better behaved, more desirable daughter, her father would come back for her. How could it possibly not be her fault? She was far too young to understand that adults were imperfect, and not all good at heart. Like most children, she had been raised to respect and to obey and to idolise her elders, but she had not been taught that her own voice was valuable, too. Who was she, if not her father's daughter? Could she ever mean anything without him? She just couldn't believe it to be true. Besides, it wasn't just her father who'd let her down. Her first foster parents had, too. And she was convinced that, given enough time, so would her second.

The Hufflepuff dried her face again, sniffing loudly. "Thank you, Professor," she said, mostly to please him. He had been kind to her, after all, even if he had not solved her problems. "Please can I go, now?"

 

[Professor Matt Alcott-Ward]

Matt was aware that his words could only do so much, and it wasn't nearly enough. With cases like this, it made Matt sad to be a teacher. He could often see when children needed more from their parents, but be completely unable to help. He nodded as she thanked him, and nodded again when she asked if she could go. "Of course you can. Just know my office is always open if you want to talk." He told her, getting to his feet. He wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words. He just gave her a small smile, hoping she would be okay. Maybe he ought to talk to April, to see if she could keep an eye on this girl. His daughter was never shy and always eager to make friends, so perhaps she could be a source of trust for this girl.