For You I'll Be Superhuman

Chapter 7

Harry's POV

I walked down the corridors and asked people I passed by for directions. When I finally got to the room, I checked my watch to find I was already 49 minutes late. The class started at 2 in the afternoon and will be ending at 3. Talk about a 10-minute nightmare.

The door was open so I slightly peeked through it just to see maybe if one of the boys were there. But before I could search properly, a girl right in front of me squealed that made the teacher's head and everyone else's snap back and turn to me.

"May we help you young boy?", asked the elderly man adjusting his spectacles so he could get a good look at me, slowly making his way halfway towards me. All eyes were on me and I could've sworn their stares burnt holes through my shirt. "Is this room 258 for Composition and Music Production?" I asked as smoothly as I possibly could. Girls nearest to the door were revoltingly frustrating. Staring at me as if they would collapse at any moment if I moved around too quickly.  

"Yes," answered the man. "But it seems you are already 50 minutes late young man & I do not tolerate tardiness in my class." He answered sternly, but somehow still with a tint of concern in his voice. I rolled my eyes, he saw that. "Pardon me, but I don't seem to recall seeing you around here before. You are?", he asked walking closer to the door.

Did he live under a rock?? How could he possibly not know who I am?! "I'm new", I answered cheekily after students in the room whispered my name repeatedly enough that the man already heard.

"Oh. A first year and already taking Composition and Music Production? This class is for advanced sophomores and juniors only." "Well obviously I'm their age so that doesn't really make a difference now does it?" I spat back. Not my best move. The professor suddenly crossed his arms and looked at me sternly. The entire class was tuning in. Lovely (-_-) 

"Um.. Sir? He's one of those kids from that famous music group? They were assigned to be advanced sophomores since they already pass lessons covered by first years and lower sophomores," a girl with blonde hair, wearing a pink sunday dress, sitting right in the middle of the room answered. She looked at me and then back to the teacher, who's eyes were narrowing towards me.

"You're one of Simon's kids?" he asked and I just nodded. I fought back a smug.

"Well then. Simon Cowell's a good old friend. But I don't suppose his being good rubbed off on you even at the slightest bit. And you may be their age but you, young man, are no better than these students whether you like it or not. And further more," his stare already burning up my face, "When you come into my classroom and attend my class, I demand respect & discipline. Are we clear?".

I was sick of this, so I went along, "Crystal." The man looked quite pleased with himself as if he felt triumphant over that. He walked back over to his desk and added, "Well not have you only disturbed my class but you have also interrupted my discussion, Mr. ..?".

"Styles. The last name's Styles." I could hear the murmurs rise up from the room. "Well, Mr. Styles, be thankful. I let this out as a warning. The next time you come in late and the next time you show impeccable behavior I will have you directly escorted to detention and trust me, detentions here at the Drama Arts and Music Academy are unlike those of ordinary schools and are not taken lightly by most students. Understood?". "Yes, sir." "Good. Now find a seat. You've already taken enough time as it is. And because of you, I will be extending my class for 25 more minutes. I'll lend you slips so you can lend them to the teacher of your next class to excuse you for being late at such a time."

I searched for an empty seat and I found two. One was just right in front of me where that one girl squealed, and the other at the very back of the class just by the window behind a girl I recognized.