𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 . . . ah! 𝑛𝑜𝑡 . . . she balled her hand against her wrist. The nerve-endings fired spasms up her arms. 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . . she tore up her sleeve and saw worded scratches imprinting redness around her arm
"Hehe."
Felicity jerked her head up to find Umbridge grading papers, smirking to herself. She glared daggers at the woman, puffing a stray hair from her face in agitation.
Back down on her arm, she picked up the quill, her fist tightening.
. . . 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠. Ah!
𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 . . . 𝑛𝑜𝑡 . . . blood peeked from the breaking seals of flesh . . . 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . . her arm shook in agony . . . 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠.
𝐼 . . . Felicity stabbed the parchment "Ah!" she cried out, but plowed forward, 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 . . . she gritted her teeth, 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . .
"Legilimens!"
The goat's head emerged before them, licking at her wounding arm . . .
. . . 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝑇𝐻𝑆!
With an agonizing scream, she shoved Umbridge out of her head, focusing on anything but pain. Felicity had to shift this reality now.
Luna tickled Felicity's arm with her gentle quill, she imagined, Luna imprinting the Deathly Hallows symbol with raspberry-scented ink . . . Felicity clamped an arm to subdue the wound . . . Snape applied a healing salve, tenderly wrapping her arm in bandages. His pacifying baritone voice whispered healing incantations.
The goat's beady eyes reflected speckled light, starscapes and heavenly rays. The creature faded into the endless restful night, and Felicity mimicked its steady breaths: In . . and out . . . in and out . . . while her wound throbbed, her mind cleansed, subduing the pain.
Both rocked back into reality with Umbridge's wand outstretched, quivering in her hand. The smug look melted into a slight opening of the mouth. The teacher's eyes darted downwards, along Felicity's arm. Blood dripped down it, staining the light-pink carpet beneath them.
Sweat plastered the stray curls down Felicity's chin and neck, and she squinted in returning spasms, but never looked away from Umbridge. Her teeth clenched, her breathing labored, but she shed no tears. Felicity held fast, stopping herself from spilling brine, she already spilt blood, this woman would have no more of her suffering, no more satisfaction from weeping, no more---
"You, you," Umbridge held her head up high, crossing her arms, "disobeyed me! Lies, not truths!"
Perhaps this is why you hate Muggles. If you were a Muggle authority abusing your power to encourage self-harm---you'd be the worst therapist. In prison. You'd encourage those who suffer real depression to hurt themselves more---manipulating them into deserving it.
Felicity held her gaze. Both breathed hard before each other, a challenge circulating in the air around them.
Umbridge stalked over, then flipped the parchment with a smack. She flicked her wand at the paper. "Write!"
Felicity picked up the quill, then began on her line.
𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠.
Behind her sleeve, tremors erupted on her other arm, but Felicity pressed on. Umbridge must not be able to read the motions upon the parchment, for she smirked, then settled behind her desk again.
𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 . . . she darted her eyes towards Umbridge, pulling up her sleeve . . . 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠.
𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 . . . Drip. Drop. Drip drop. Red splotches stained the parchment. Blood crusted a layer on her first arm, but tiny streams escaped, lying limp on the table.
"Help," Felicity rasped.
𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . . spots danced before Felicity. Cosmic freedom. Oh, how she longed to give in . . . . 𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . . black flashed before her head . . . 𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . .
. . . 𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 . . .
"Help."
. . . 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑠.
A distant shriek vanished the black spots from her vision, with Umbridge's wand cleansing the dripping blood from her wounds. But the cuts only opened up more upon release, gushing out blood again down her arm.
The professor slid her wand in a violent motion, tugging both sleeves down the student's arms to conceal injury. Blood seeped steadily on, but beneath robes.
"Do you crave," Umbridge said softly, stepping closer to her, "pain?"
Every vein in Felicity begged herself to stop, beseeched her to seek healing. But she had to convince herself, had to manifest this before Umbridge, if it's the only way out.
"Freedom," she rasped, "You shall n-never ens-sslave me!"
Felicity wanted Luna to sit down and just be there, she wanted familiarity, a hug, a coo, anything. She wanted to sob in someone's arms, be cradled and loved.
"Daughter of Bellatrix Black!" Umbridge declared. "Wild child!"
"Free . . . free soul." Strength drained from her body, and yet her mind held fast to pump energy through her veins.
"To the Headmaster's office," Umbridge shook her wand at Felicity, "with me. NOW!" Her voice trembled, shrill but afraid. "I'll demand your correction if it isn't the last thing I do!" They bounded up the spiral staircase and into Dumbledore's study.
Dumbledore stood nonchalantly hunched over his Pensieve, drinking in whatever memory he desired at the moment. The clicking heels brought him gently out into their presence. The headmaster settled down at his desk and spun a bowl of candies, then eyed the two sweat-faced women.
"Lemon drop?"
Felicity left Umbridge's side immediately, picked a candy and popped one into her mouth. "Thank you . . . Professor Dumbledore," she managed, smiling at his warm grandfatherly gaze.
Although minor, every shift counts. The little things. Especially to spite Umbridge.
But is it healthy?
The stout toad-faced woman frowned at Felicity's satisfaction, although she still saw the student sway a bit from blood loss.
"Sugar revives my energy," Felicity stated, looking at Umbridge. "You should . . . try one."
Umbridge spun on her heel towards Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I cannot control her behavior. She resists detention with lies and defiance."
The elderly wizard's silvery blue gaze switched to Felicity, which lingered. "I trust, Miss Felicity, you spoke the truth?"
"Yes sir."
Umbridge clenched her jaw then flicked her gaze between Dumbledore and Felicity, and back again. "You do not see the unkempt hair in relation to your former student, Bellatrix Black? The relishment in pain?
"You did not hear the tyrannical references she spoke of! Corrupt and wild, I suspect by dark arts!"
Is freedom so tyrannical?
Blood ticked down Felicity's arm, triggering another spasm. She bunched her sleeve to hide it.
Professor Dumbledore smiled at Umbridge. "Dolores, she speaks the truth."
Her mouth fell open. "But---"
"I said, I lack a surname."
She faced the Headmaster. "Surely, she has a guardian?"
Felicity shook her head.
"Frankly, a bad part on my end. I simply haven't gotten around to filing an available adoption," Dumbledore mused, then picked up a parchment stash and magically tied ribbons around them to organize them into separate piles.
Umbridge gazed down at Felicity, her lips puckered smugly. The woman's eyes beamed, almost pathetically loving. She tipped a finger upon Felicity's chin, forcing the student to look up at her.
"Hem, hem," Umbridge snapped back to Dumbledore, then cleared her throat. "I should like to fill out the adoption papers, Headmaster."
Felicity coughed loudly. A growl formed in her throat, yes a growl, as menacing and unladylike and wild as she could muster.
"Oh, poor child," cooed Umbridge sweetly. "I should love you as . . . your . . . mother."
The nerve of a sadist!
"May I bring my goat along, mother?" Through the blood, the ire, she still strained to disturb the woman beyond belief.
Umbridge cleared her throat, and bared her passive-aggressive canines. Squinting merrily at Felicity, she conveyed, Don't test your beloved mother that way, my dear.
"Met him in the Forbidden Forest," Felicity improvised, "He speaks to me, you see . . . of the ancient wisdom of his kind. I, in return, got him to speak through applying the dark arts. Rituals and the lore. Anyways, if not, I can simply . . . Felicity's legs slackened, and air tightened in her chest, ". . . simply . . ."
Dumbledore swiftly stood up and caught Felicity by the arm, obliviously pinching the bleeding veins to spasms. She clenched her teeth.
"Tell me what it is you wish to say," Dumbledore said quietly.
"No," Felicity rasped, craning her neck to meet Umbridge in the eye. "I'm fine."
Umbridge already found the papers, and began signing and filling out information. "Hogsmeade . . .?" she muttered, then crossed a large X. ". . . I think not."
"What is it you wish to say?" Dumbledore asked, louder, gripping her arm tighter.
A language converted to Umbridge repellent.
". . . Frog choir? Oh no, no, I cannot condone such time-wasting pursuits . . ." Umbridge muttered, then glanced up at the livid Felicity, then caught the caramel, brown tethered rayon skirt peeking beneath her robes. Umbridge glanced upwards, and cringed at the dried, wilting daffodils weaved in Felicity's locks.
". . . struts like an inferius gypsy, dreadful, dreadful. Yes," Umbridge hummed, her gaze locked upon the turquoise crystal pendant Luna had gifted her, "Magenta, fine velvet or cashmere should tame that avant-garde side."
I swear to add decaying dandelions and daisies to your perm. Felicity couldn't stop cursing internally.
Messages flooded from Dumbledore's wise eyes, and she caught his hints.
"I'm a Muggleborn."
Umbridge whirled around, glancing down at the paper, then back at Felicity.
She crumbled the files.
"Disgrac---" she caught Dumbledore's pro-Muggle gaze, then clasped her hands together in recomposure. "Headmaster, I should like to shift her detentions to a successful disciplinarian."
"Of course, Dolores. That should be none other than Severus Snape."
She turned a nasty toad-grin on Felicity. Your worst nightmare, Umbridge seemed to relish.
Felicity pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress victorious exclaims.
Thank you! For shifting my reality Umbridge! Snape's a benign bat to me, you idiot.
Umbridge stalked off without a glance back, but Felicity saw in a window's reflection the pink professor beaming with thoughts on torture.
"And, Felicity?"
"Yes?"
Dumbledore furrowed his snow-white bushy brows, then frowned. "Madame Pomfrey is busy with a handful of first-year concussions resulting from the first day of Flying class. Please seek Professor Snape's assistance immediately."
How did he know?
It's Dumbledore. Don't be daft.
"Of course. Thanks."