Getaway Car

Quidditch Tryouts.

At five o'clock that evening, Harry knocked on Professor Umbridge's office door for what he sincerely hoped would be the final time. He couldn't help but pity (Y/n), who had another five days of this. They were made to enter and did so. The blank parchment lay ready for them on the lace-covered table, the pointed black quill beside it.

"You two know what to do," said Umbridge, smiling sweetly over at them.

When Harry picked up one of the pills, he glanced through the window. If he shifted himself an inch or so to the right... On that pretext of shifting himself closer to the table, he managed it. He now had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance.
I must not tell lies, Harry wrote. The cut in the back of his right hand opened and began to bleed afresh.
I must not tell lies. The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting.
I must not tell lies. Blood trickled down his wrist.
He spared a look at (Y/n), whose lip was trembling and her parchment had little drops of her blood. He chanced a glance out of the window. Whoever was defending the goalposts now was doing a very poor job indeed. Katie Bell scored twice in the few seconds Harry dared watch. Hoping very much that the Keeper wasn't Ron, he dropped his eyes back to the parchment dotted with blood.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
He looked up whenever he thought he could risk it, when he could hear the scratching of Umbridge's quill or the opening of a desk drawer. The third person to try out was pretty good, the fourth was terrible, the fifth dodged a Bludger exceptionally well but they fumbled an easy save. The sky was darkening so that Harry doubted he would be able to watch the sixth and seventh people at all.
I must not tell lies.
I must not tell lies.
The parchment was now shining with drops of blood from the back of his hand, which was searing with pain. When he next looked up, night had fallen and the Quidditch pitch was no longer visible.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" said Umbridge's soft voice half an hour later.
She moved towards them, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for their arms. And then, as she took hold of Harry's arm to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.
He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth.
"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she said softly.
Harry did not answer. His heart was thumping very hard and fast. Was she talking about his hand or did she know what he had just felt on his forehead?
"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go."
Harry waited for (Y/n)'s hand to get examined and they grabbed their schoolbags.
"See you on Monday, same time, Miss (Y/l/n)," Umbridge said almost tauntingly. The two left the room as quickly as they could.

"Give me your hand," (Y/n) instructed, digging through her bag. Confused, Harry held out his hand. He was quick to regret it as (Y/n) had started blotting the cut with a cotton ball and witch hazel.

"A warning please?" Harry hissed painfully.

"I am not letting you get an infection because you don't know how to take care of yourself," (Y/n) said hotly. She wrapped Harry's hand with a bandage before pointing her wand at the cotton ball, which proceeded to disintegrate into ashes.

"You're real bold, you know that?" Harry jeered as (Y/n) started taking care of her own cut. "'I'm not going to let you get an infection because you don't know how to take care of yourself,'" he mocked highly. (Y/n) grinned. "You say that as though you take care of yourself."

"I take perfectly good care of myself."

"You haven't slept for three days."

"It's fine," (Y/n) dismissed.