"What’s the matter?" asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with
Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed toward breakfast. "You look absolutely — oh for heaven’s sake."
She was staring at the common room notice board, where a large new sign
had been put up.
GALLONS OF GALLEONS!
Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley or (Y/n) Black Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs
(WE REGRET THAT ALL WORK IS UNDERTAKEN AT APPLICANT’S OWN RISK)
'They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which
Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. "We’ll have to talk to them, Ron."
Ron looked positively alarmed. "Why?"
"Because we’re prefects!" said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. "It’s up to us to stop this kind of thing!"
"Uhm, Hermione, what are you doing?" You came downstairs to the common room followed by of course the twins, Lee and Astrid.
"What do you think? I'm taking this whole scheme down—"
"You sure you want to attempt that, Granger?" Said Fred from your right
"Yes, I want to. Otherwise I'll tell McGonagall. You shouldn't be testing your stupid products on students either way!" Hermione looked furious.
"Relax! It's not something dangerous—" George had begun to say
"Y'know what? Fine. Do as you please. I won't be the one to get expelled by this school from your little "shop"."
"Alright fine, relax a little bit." Said Lee, looking from Hermione to Harry. "Hey you alright mate? Is something troubling you?"
"Seamus reckons Harry’s lying about You-Know-Who," said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.
Hermione, whom Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed. "Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said gloomily.
"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I’m a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry said loudly.
"No," said Hermione calmly, "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down Ron’s and my throats, Harry, because if you haven’t noticed, we’re on your side.”"
There was a short pause.
"Sorry." said Harry in a low voice.
"That’s quite all right," said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. "Don’t you remember what Dumbledore said at the end-of-term feast last year?" You looked at her blankly, and Hermione sighed again. "About You-Know-Who. He said, 'His gift for spreading discord and
enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond
of friendship and trust —' "
"How do you remember stuff like that?" Ron asked, looking at her with admiration.
"I listen, Ron." said Hermione with a touch of asperity.
"So do I, but I still couldn’t tell you exactly what —"
"Hermione's point," Astrid pressed on loudly, "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore seemed to be talking about. You-Know-Who’s only been back two months, and we’ve started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hat’s warning was the same — stand together, be united —"
"Let's just go to lunch for now. We can talk about this later. I can hear your guys' stomach growling from miles away." You said making your way to the exit of the common room.
"Dumbledore didn’t even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman’s staying," he said, as you made your way across to the Gryffindor table.
"Maybe..." You said thoughtfully.
"What?" said the twins together.
"Well...maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here."
"What d’you mean, draw attention to it?" said Lee, half laughing. "How could we not notice?"
Before you could answer, a tall black girl with long, braided hair had marched up to the twins.
"Hi, Angelina." You all said.
"Hi," she said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I’ve been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."
"Nice! Hopefully your ted talks won't be as long as Wood's." Said Fred grinning.
"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver’s left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o’clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person’ll fit in."
"Okay," said George, and she smiled at him and departed.
Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for both you and Harry. The news about your shouting match with Umbridge seemed to have traveled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts standards. You could hear whispers all around you as you sat eating between the twins. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind you overhearing what they were saying about you — on the contrary, it was as though they were hoping you would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear your story firsthand.
"(Y/n). (Y/n)?" Fred waved a hand in front of your face.
"What?" You said, taken out of your trance.
"We're thinking of hosting this year's Halloween party. You want to help?"
"Yeah, sure. Just tell me what to bring and I'll make sure to bring it as soon as possible." You smiled at each other and continued with your food and your conversation.
———
Rain pounded on the windowpanes as you strode along the empty corridors
back to Gryffindor Tower. You felt as though his first day had lasted a week,
but you still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over your right eye. You glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady’s corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid’s cabin.
The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at
dinner. You took your favorite chair kind of close to the twins and Lee. Trying to do your homework
You could feel Hermione squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George, and Lee were now sitting at the center of a knot of innocent-looking first years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.
"No, I’m sorry, they’ve gone too far!" You heard Hermione say, standing up and looking positively furious.
One by one, as though hit over the heads with invisible mallets, the first years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right onto the floor,
others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out.
Most of the people watching were laughing, as well as you; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first years. Ron rose halfway out of his chair, hovered uncertainly for a moment or two, then muttered something to Harry, before sinking as low in his chair as his lanky frame permitted.
"That’s enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.
"Yeah, you’re right," said George, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn’t it?"
"I told you this morning, you can’t test your rubbish on students!"
"We’re paying them!" said Fred indignantly.
"I don’t care, it could be dangerous!"
"Rubbish!" said Fred.
"Calm down, Hermione, they’re fine!" You said, reassuringly as Lee walked
from first year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.
"Yeah, look, they’re coming round now," said George.
A few of the first years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to
find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, you were sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.
"Feel all right?" said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.
"I-I think so," she said shakily.
"Excellent," said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.
"It is NOT excellent!"
" 'Course it is, they’re alive, aren’t they?" said Fred angrily.
"You can’t do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"
"We’re not going to make them ill, we’ve already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same —"
"If you don’t stop doing it, I’m going to —"
"Do what, Hermione? Put us four in detention?" You said in an I’d-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.
"Make us write lines?" said George, smirking.
"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."
"You wouldn’t." said George, smirking and slightly horrified, taking a step back from her.
"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can’t stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you’re not giving them to first years."
You three looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as you were concerned, Hermione’s threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at you, she thrust Fred’s clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms and stalked back to her chair by the fire.
———
"Good evening, Ms. Black." You looked around. You 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." You said stiffly.
"Well, sit down." she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace
beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank
parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for you.
She was watching you with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what you were thinking and was waiting to see whether you would start shouting again. With a massive effort you looked away from her, dropped your schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair, and sat down
"There," said Umbridge sweetly, "we’re getting better at controlling our temper already, aren’t we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Ms. Black. No, not with your quill," she added, as you bent down to open your bag. "You’re going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."
She handed you a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.
"I want you to write 'I must not tell lies,' " she told you softly.
"How many times?" You asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.
"Let's say as long as it takes for the message to sink in,” said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go, start."
She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. You raised the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing.
"You haven’t given me any ink," you said.
"Oh, you won’t need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
You placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies.
You 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 your right hand, cut into your skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as you stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
You looked around at Umbridge. She was watching you, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. "Yes?"
"Nothing." You said quietly. You looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of your hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into your skin, once again they healed over seconds later.
And on it went. Again and again you wrote the words on the parchment in what you soon came to realize was not ink, but his own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of your hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time you set quill to parchment.
Darkness fell outside Umbridge’s window. You did not ask when you would be allowed to stop. You did not even check your watch. You knew she was watching you for signs of weakness and you were not going to show any, not
even if you had to sit here all night, cutting open your own hand with this quill...
"Come here." She said, after what seemed hours.
You stood up. Your hand was stinging painfully. When you looked down at it, you saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw. You left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. You walked slowly up the corridor then, when you had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear you, broke into a run, crying over your hand and how dangerous that woman turned out to be. Walking inside the common room, you didn't even let the twins see your state; your eyes were red and puffy from crying. So you ran. You ran like nothing and yet everything had happened. But the exhaustion caught up to you quickly and you slept a bit, or as long as you could.