"You"

Rule No 16: The headteacher is a demon

In the following weeks, the atmosphere at the school grew increasingly tense. It became evident that my relationship with Sirius was not only frowned upon but actively discouraged. The headmaster's disapproval hung over us like a dark cloud, and it was clear that our positions at the school were in jeopardy.

One fateful day, we were called into the headmaster's office once more. With a stern expression, he delivered the devastating news. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, but due to the circumstances surrounding your relationship, we have decided to terminate your employment."

The shock and disbelief that washed over us were palpable. It was a painful and unjust consequence of being in a same-sex relationship in an environment that, despite its veneer of progressiveness, couldn't fully embrace our love.

As we packed our belongings and left the school that had once been a place of dreams and aspirations, it was with heavy hearts and a bitter taste of injustice that we faced the harsh reality of discrimination. Our love had cost us our jobs, a reminder that there was still much work to be done to ensure equality and acceptance for all.

As we made our way out of the school, carrying boxes filled with our personal belongings, the scene was heart-wrenching. Some of the students who had grown close to us throughout the year stood at the entrance, tears streaming down their cheeks.

They called out our names, their voices quivering, and ran up to us, hugging us tightly. "Don't go, Mr. Lupin! Don't leave, Mr. Black!" they cried.

It was a devastating moment, witnessing the genuine affection and attachment these young hearts had formed. Our eyes welled up with tears as we reassured them, promising that we would always remember them and the incredible journey we had shared.

As we walked away from the school that had been our workplace and a place of profound connections, we couldn't help but feel the weight of leaving behind the innocent souls who had seen us for who we were and had loved us regardless. Their tears were a reminder that love and acceptance could be found in the most unexpected places, even in the hearts of children.

About a month after we had left the school, our lives had taken a different course, but the memories of the students and the warmth of their affection still lingered in our hearts. We had found new opportunities, but the loss of the connection we had built with those young souls weighed heavily on us.

Then, one day, the phone rang, and it was the headmaster from our former school. Their voice was flustered, and it was clear that something had changed. "Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, we've been experiencing quite a situation here," they began.

Curiosity and concern filled our hearts as we listened.

"All the parents have been complaining," the headmaster continued, "their children are crying about your departure. It's affecting the students' morale and performance."

We exchanged surprised glances, unable to believe what we were hearing.

"In light of this," the headmaster continued, "we would like to invite you both back to the school. The parents are demanding your return, and we believe it's in the best interest of the students."

It was a startling turn of events, one that left us both feeling both vindicated and touched by the outpouring of support from the students and their families. The realization that our connection with the children had left such a lasting impact was humbling, and we couldn't help but consider the possibility of returning to the place where it all began.