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"Good morning, children." Umbridge states with her fake sweet smile. "Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. O-W-Ls. More commonly known as OWLs." She pauses and smiles again. "Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe." She moves around the front of the classroom. "Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But you'll be pleased to know, from now on... you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved... course of defensive magic." Hermione raises her hand. "Yes?"

"There's nothing in here about using defensive spells?" She asks.

"Using spells?" Umbridge scoffs. "Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."

"We're not gonna use magic?" Ron asks.

"You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

"What use is that? If we're attacked, it won't be risk-free." Harry interrupts her.

"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class." She points are my brother with a glare. "It is the view of the Ministry... that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient... to get you through your examinations... which, after all, is what school is all about."

"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Harry asks again.

"There is nothing out there, dear." She smiles her fake smile. "Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Lord Voldemort."

"Now, let me make this quite plain. You have been told... that a certain dark wizard is at large once again." She pauses. "This is a lie." I stand up, unable to compose myself any longer.

"It's not a lie. I saw him." Then I look to my brother. "We both did. And we fought him."

"Detention, Miss Potter."

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" I ask, fighting back the urge to cry.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him." I tell her.

"Enough!" She takes in a deep breath. "Enough. See me later, Miss Potter. My office."

I roll my eyes and settle back into my seat. Everyone is staring at me, gazing like I'm an exhibit in a museum. She continues the lesson and I just copy down the notes until she finally dismisses us.

"I'm sorry, Mia." Hermione says to me. "She's a dreadful woman."

"It's fine, I'm fine." I tell her.


"Come in." Umbridge says as I knock on her office door. I enter the room "Good evening, Miss Potter."

I come into the room and stand in front of her desk with a blank expression on my face.

"Sit." She instructs, gesturing to the single desk sitting in the room. "You're going to be doing some lines for me today, Miss Potter."

I sit down and get out a roll of parchment and my quill and ink.

"No, not with your quill." I put mine away, along with the bottle of ink. "Going to be using a rather special one of mine."

She hands it to me and continues to smile.

"Now... I want you to write, 'I must not tell lies.'"

"How many times?" I sigh out.

"Well, let's say for as long as it takes for the message to sink in."

"You haven't given me any ink." I inform her.

"Oh, you won't need any ink."

I begin writing the words: I must not tell lies. As I finish the first line, I feel a burning sensation on the back of my hand. I rub it and continue to write. But the more I write, the more it burns. I turn my hand over.

Cuts begin to appear on the back of my left hand. In my handwriting. I watch as each slash appears. Until it reads: I must not tell lies.

I look over to her with wide eyes.

"Yes?" She questions.

"Nothing." I turn back to my parchment.

"That's right." She smiles. "Because you know, deep down...you deserve to be punished. Don't you, Miss Potter?"

"Yes, Ma'am." I say to her. "But not for the reason you think."

"And why do you think you deserve to be punished?" She asks, intrigued.

"Because I survived the night Voldemort came back. And my boyfriend didn't."

"He is not..."

"Save it, Professor." I put my hand up, cutting her off. "Let me write these lines in peace."

I see her face is fuming as I continue to write. The burning sensation never leaves my hand and after a couple of hours she tells me it's time to go.

"Come here, dear. Before you leave." I walk over to her desk. "Let me see your hand."

I give her my hand, but the right one. Without the cuts.

"Your other hand, Miss Potter." She glares, fed up with me. I smirk and give her my other hand. "The message really sunk in for you, didn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Goodnight, Miss Potter." She says letting go of my hand and I begin to walk out of the room.

"Goodnight." I smile at her and as soon as I shut the door I mutter, "Toad face."

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