𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 → 𝒸. 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎

⤷ 09| DETENTION WITH DOLORES

"I know, I know," Harry said, going with his hand trough his hair. "But she just gets under my skin. I can't help it."

"Well, try to control it," June said. "Otherwise you'll be having detention every day of this year."

Harry sighed and knocked on the door.

"Come in," she called in a sugary voice.

The two of them entered cautiously, looking around.

June had known this office under three of its previous occupants. In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been postered in beaming portraits of himself — June had to clean all of them for detention once. When Remus had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creatures in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moody's days it had been packed with various instruments and artefacts for the detention of wrongdoing and concealment.

Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several cases full of dried flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolored kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that both Harry and June stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr Potter, Miss Black."

June started and looked around. She had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening, Professor Umbridge," Harry and June said at the same time.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing towards a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up two straight-backed chairs. Two pieces of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for them.

Harry and June sat down.

"Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr Potter, Miss Black. No, not with your quills," she added, as Harry and June bent down to open their bags. "You're going to be using two rather special ones of mine. Here you are."

She handed them two long, thin black quills with an unusual sharp point.

"I want you to write, I must not tell lies," she told them softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," Umbridge said sweetly. "Off you go."

She moved over to her desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for markings. June raised the sharp black quill, then realized what was missing.

"You haven't given us any ink," she said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," Professor Umbridge said, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

Juniper placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote:

I must not tell lies.

She let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of June's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as she stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

Juniper turned to look at Harry, who was looking at Umbridge. She was watching the two of them, her wide toad like mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"