The Heckler Dream

I was on the Hogwarts Express, heading for University (go figure). All of my belongings were crammed into the hallway outside our carriage. Our carriage consisted of a few people my age, one bodyguard, and a middle aged woman who looked utterly terrified.
And I can’t blame her.
Outside, past the locked section of the hallway, there was a tent. This tent was full of the woman’s hecklers, determined to make her life a misery. As an apprentice journalist, I was intrigued.
I took pictures of the tent through the dirty window, hoping to capture the scandal on film. I felt sorry for the woman; she’d been wrongly accused. And now she was having men spit at her and shout abuse at her. Thank God she had a bodyguard.
We locked ourselves back in the carriage when the shouting became too much for her. That was when I saw one of the men sneaking into our half of the hallway. In the same place as my stuff.
Without really thinking, I unlocked the door and saw the man snatch his hand away from one of my bags. But not quick enough. I smiled at him, then shoved him against the wall, holding him there by his collar. I was burning with fury.
“Look, buddy. You’re here to heckle this woman. Not to touch my stuff, you understand? I catch you in here again, I’ll kick your dick so far up yourself, it’ll come back out your mother.”
…No, I don’t understand my insult either. But it felt good to say, and even the people in the tent looked on and cheered. I gave the man a kick in the nuts for good measure, and then resumed my place in the carriage.
Needless to say, he didn’t come back again.


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