“WAAAAAA!”

“Potter, damn it, shut up!” I snap, ready to strangle the boy.  But he continues to screech and bawl at the top of his little lungs. It is inconceivable how much noise can come out of something so small.

On the verge of tearing my hair out, I quickly drop the boy in his bed, storm off to my lab and slam the door. Walking over to my desk, I lean against it and clench the edge of the table.

Potter has not ceased crying for two hours! What the bloody hell is wrong with that boy?

Let him cry!  I do not care. I’ve had enough with his self-indulgent demands for attention.  Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am?

…

In the past I have had doubts about Albus’s judgement. But I’ve always considered him to be wise and therefore followed his instructions.  That may no longer be the case. As, clearly, his sanity is dwindling with his growing beard.

I run a hand down my face as the faint sound of Potter’s pathetic wails seep through the door.  I wonder if my own sanity is beginning to wither away.  With the way Potter has been, I wouldn’t be surprised if I do lose what little reason I have left.

My extreme dislike of all children, great and small, quadruples when it comes to Potter.  Teenage Potter had exhausted my energy, my time and my patience. And now, the infant monstrosity has exhausted my will to live.

When Potter returns to normal, I will make my displeasure very clear and he will suffer my wrath as no student has ever before!

For now, regrettably, I must return and make sure the child doesn’t choke himself.  That would be most delig..unfortunate.