Chapter [10]

92 7 7
                                    

As Harry's stress levels rose, his patience thinned nearly to the breaking point. Like a time bomb just waiting to go off, every minute inching closer to detonation.

He had not had time to practice the Vanishing Spell, had not written a single dream in his dream diary, and had not finished the drawing of the bowtruckle, nor had he written his essays. He skipped breakfast the next morning to scribble down a couple of made-up dreams for Divination, their first lesson, and could audibly hear his stomach growling in protest. Ron was scarfing down food next to him, scribbling down gibberish in his journal as well, though why he hadn't done his homework last night was a mystery to Harry.

He and Ron, running late, hurried off to North Tower together.

"How was detention with Umbridge, anyway? What did she make you do?"

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, "Lines."

"That's not too bad, then, eh?" said Ron.

"Nope," said Harry shortly.

"Hey - I forgot - did she let you off for Friday?"

"No," said Harry.

Ron groaned sympathetically.

"But, er, well Ginny was right; Artemis was there too," Harry added, glancing at Ron to catch his reaction.

Ron grimaced, "How to make a bad situation worse, eh?"

"Not really. I think we may have pegged Artemis wrong," said Harry, cautiously. He knew Ron would have to be hard-pressed to change his opinions of someone, especially someone sharing a room with Draco Malfoy, but Artemis was different from most of the Slytherins they knew; different from anyone they knew. He just hoped it was a good difference.

"Have you forgotten that he's in Slytherin? Or that he knew this before he was sorted, just like Malfoy? He just seems a bit pompous, is all. Calling himself a 'genius'," said Ron, quite predictably, with a scoff. It was a fair point, but Harry was starting to think that maybe Artemis was that smart.

They had had a few discussions since the train about the Irish boy, making up wild stories of why he was back in Europe or who his parents were. All of which Hermione refused to participate in. Of course, Harry now knew that his parents weren't magical at all, which made him feel remorse for all the things they had whispered about at meals.

He wasn't sure why he did not tell Ron and Hermione what was happening in Umbridge's room. He only knew that he did not want to see their looks of horror; that would make the whole thing seem worse and therefore more difficult to face. He also felt dimly that this was between Umbridge and himself, over a personal feud, a private battle of wills, and he was not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing that he, Harry, had complained about it.

Except what Artemis had said also made sense, and he didn't want to come back tonight not having done anything to try and help him. Artemis, for all his confidence and smart words, could get seriously hurt if Harry continued to sit on his hands.

Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to ask around, much less think about it before the second detention rolled around. When he arrived at Umbridge's door, Artemis, just as the other night, was there waiting.

"Ready?" Artemis asked, not mentioning his question from before. It was like he already knew Harry hadn't gotten anything yet just by looking at him. Could he read minds? Maybe they taught a class on that at his old school. Or maybe Harry's expression said it all.

Harry nodded, and they entered.

The second detention was just as bad as the previous one. The skin on the back of Harry's hand became irritated more quickly now, red and inflamed; Harry thought it unlikely to keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched in his hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. He let no moan of pain escape him, however, and from the moment of entering the room to the moment of his dismissal, again past midnight, he followed Artemis's lead by saying nothing but "Good evening" and "Good night."

A Piece of MindWhere stories live. Discover now