i must not tell lies
As Harry and I entered the common room after dinner, all of the chatter quickly died down. Everyone was looking at a copy of the latest Daily Prophet with the headline 'Plotter?' and a picture of Harry at his trial. We continued walking through as everyone stared at us.
"Dean, Seamus, good holiday?" Harry tried to make conversation.
"All right. Better than Seamus's, anyway," Dean answered.
"Me mum didn't want me to come back this year," Seamus said, setting the paper down and standing up.
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"Let me see...uh—Because of you. The Daily Prophet's been saying a lot of things about you, Potter, and about Dumbledore as well," Seamus answered, stepping forward to stand in front of us.
"What, and your mum believes them?" I questioned, crossing my arms.
"Well, nobody was there the night Cedric died," Seamus argued.
"Oh, well, I guess you should read the Prophet then, like your stupid mother. It'll tell you everything you need to know," Harry replied bitterly.
"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that," Seamus responded angrily.
"I'll have a go at anyone that calls me a liar," Harry argued back. The entire common room was watching the interaction now in an eerie silence.
"What's going on?" Ron asked, walking into the room quickly and noticing the tension.
"He's mad is what's going on," Seamus answered, pointing at Harry. "Do you believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who?"
"Yeah, I do," Ron replied sternly, his face looking angrier than I'd seen it in a while. I know it wasn't really the appropriate time, but seeing Ron get angry and defensive like that with his jaw clenched was incredibly hot.
"Does anyone else got a problem with Harry?" Ron asked, looking around the room. No one replied as Harry turned around and walked up the stairs.
Ron threw an angry glance around the room before following him. I copied his action before heading upstairs, too.
Harry went into his room, kicking his trunk under his bunk as Ron and I walked in.
"You alright?" Ron asked.
"Fine," Harry replied, unconvincingly as he tugged his tie off.
"Seamus was bang out of order," Ron added supportively. "But he'll come through, you'll see."
"I said I'm fine, Ron!" Harry yelled aggressively, suddenly turning around with clenched fists.
"Right..." Ron replied, a look of hurt flashing across his face. "I'll just leave you to your thoughts, then." Ron walked out of the room with his head hanging.
"Harry," I scoffed as I watched Ron leave. Harry took a deep breath before sitting on his bed, ignoring me. I scowled at him before turning on my heel and following after Ron.
"Hey," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. He turned around and looked at me dejectedly. "He's mad at the situation and needs to cool off, but he shouldn't have yelled at you for being supportive."
"I'm fine," Ron shrugged it off. His expression told me he wasn't.
"Wanna go to the kitchens?" I suggested. Ron grinned, grabbing my hand as we headed downstairs.
We sat upon our usual spot on the countertop, legs dangling as we munched on our favorite snacks.
"Harper?" Ron said after a moment of silence.
"Yeah?" I asked, turning to face him.
"I missed you this summer," he said with a smile.
"I missed you," I laughed.
"So I had an idea," Ron continued, clearly nervous.
"What's that?" I encouraged.
"Maybe you and I could...go on a real date?" Ron stuttered out with a nervous smile.
"You're cute," I told him, smiling widely. He scrunched his nose up.
"Cute?" he repeated in offense.
"Yeah," I nodded, taking another bite. "So when's this first date of ours?" I asked with a mischievous smirk.
"Next weekend," Ron said confidently. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall at 7 pm on Friday."
"Okay," I smiled, biting my lip. "What should I wear?"
"Whatever you want," Ron shrugged. I glared at him. "What?" he asked.
"That's not helpful," I told him.
"I don't know, just wear whatever you like. You always look good anyways," Ron shrugged. I couldn't be mad at that. Once it got late, we went back to Gryffindor tower for the night.
At breakfast the next morning, Ron sat beside me with Harry and Hermione across from us. We chatted like normal, and Ron and I tried not to be super affectionate in front of Harry. Everything was going well. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.
As we walked to our first class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ron told me, "Harry had another nightmare last night."
"Yeah, they've been getting more and more frequent," I sighed as we entered. I sat beside Hermione and Ron by Harry. Everyone was talking and chattering as we waited for class to start, and a paper bird flew around the room. People swatted at it and played with it, until it was suddenly burnt to a crisp in the air, fluttering down onto a desk. We all turned around to see Umbridge entering the room, her wand pointed where it previously was. She was wearing another hideously all-pink outfit.
I take it back. This year was going to suck.
"Good morning, children," Umbridge said, pacing to the front of the room. "Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations," she read as she magically drew the words on the chalkboard as she walked to the front of the room. "O-W-L's. More commonly known as OWLs." She stopped in front of the room placing her hands folded in front of her. "Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe." She flicked her wand, passing out the textbooks to each student.
"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." I look at the textbook in front of me titled Defense Against the Dark Arts for Beginners and notice how childish the cover looked. "Yes?"
"There's nothing in here about using defensive spells," Hermione said as she flipped through it.
"Using spells?" Umbridge repeated and then did another infamous chuckle. "Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."
"Maybe to learn how to defend ourselves?" I muttered.
"What was that?" she turned to me.
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron questioned.
"You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way," Umbridge answered.
"Well, what use is that?" Harry asked in disbelief. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free."
"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class," Umbridge replied sternly. She paused before continuing in her fake sweet voice. "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 asked without raising his hand.
"There is nothing out there, dear," Umbridge said sweetly.
"Bullshit," I said through a cough.
"Who do you imagine would want to attack children, like yourself?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe...Lord Voldemort," Harry replied sarcastically, starting whispers and murmurs throughout the classroom. It got quiet again as Umbridge stared at everyone.
"Now, let me make this...quite plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again," Umbridge said in that annoying voice of hers. "This...is...a...lie."
"It's not a lie! I saw him! I fought him!" Harry argued.
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" she said loudly.
"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" I asked.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she replied.
"It was murder—Voldemort killed him! You must know that!" I argued loudly.
"Enough!" she shrieked. "Detention, Miss Potter. Both of you see me later, my office." She giggled creepily again before beginning her boring and practically useless lecture.
"You two got detention on the first day!" Hermione reeled as we walked to our next class.
"If she keeps talking like that, it certainly won't be my last," Harry grumbled.
"Cedric deserves the truth to be known," I added. Ron squeezed my hand once in support.
"They're badasses, Hermione," Ron joked. The rest of the day went by slowly, with all the professors starting right up with rigorous lectures to prepare for the OWLs. Once the day was over, Harry and I went to detention with our new favorite Professor. Merlin, I missed Lupin.
We entered her office to find it was disgustingly pink everywhere. Not a single surface wasn't coated in that obnoxious pink color. The walls, curtains, carpet, chair, and almost every decoration. She even had hundreds of pink plates with cats on them lining the walls.
"Good evening, Mr. and Miss Potter," Umbridge greeted us. I shut the door behind us, and we each sat at a small desk she had set up in her office.
"You're going to be writing some lines for me today," Umbridge said, seated completely upright at her desk with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Harry and I moved to grab our quills.
"No," she stopped us. "Not with your quills. You're going to be using rather special ones of mine." She stood up, placing a rather large quill on each of our desks.
"Now...I want you to write, 'I must not tell lies'," Umbridge instructed.
"How many times?" I asked.
"Well, let's say for as long as it takes for the message to sink in," she answered vaguely with an odd grin.
"You haven't given us any ink," Harry told her.
"Oh, you won't need any ink," she replied.
Harry and I exchanged a confused look before we began writing. I could write lines, I supposed. Much better than cleaning cauldrons by hand.
I groaned in pain after the first line, as my right hand began hurting. I noticed Harry grunting as well. I glanced at the back of my hand to watch as what I'd written became etched onto my hand. Harry and I shared a wide-eyed look in complete disbelief. This was practically a torture method.
Harry and I looked up at her staring intently at us. "Yes?" she asked as if this was a perfectly reasonable thing to be doing.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.
"That's right," Umbridge replied leaning down to our eye levels. "Because you know, deep down, you deserve to be punished. Don't you?" She grinned cheekily while Harry and I just stared at her. It was taking everything in me not to hex her ass. She walked back to her desk and Harry and I continued writing.
We refused to show her we were in pain, and after a while, it didn't hurt so bad. It was as if my hand had become numb to the pain. She finally dismissed us, and we went back to the common room. I was fuming while Harry on the other hand felt more dejected than anything.
"We have to tell Dumbledore," I told him. "She can't treat students like this!"
"No," Harry said immediately. "He's got enough going on."
"Harry, she just tortured us!" I shouted.
"Our hands aren't even bleeding anymore," Harry replied, walking quicker. I followed him angrily into the common room where he sat between Hermione and Ron on the couch. I sighed, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside Ron.
Ron put his arm around my waist, making sure I wouldn't fall off.
"How was detention?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"Fine," Harry answered, causing me to roll my eyes. He opened his textbook and began reading it when Hermione noticed something.
"What's wrong with your hand?" she questioned Harry.
"Nothing," he replied, quickly hiding the back of his left hand, and showing her his right one.
"The other hand," Hermione said, pulling his hand out and looking at the back of it. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You've got to tell Dumbledore."
"No," Harry retorted instantly as he pulled his hand away. "Dumbledore's got enough on his mind right now. Anyway, I don't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction."
"Bloody hell, Harry, the woman is torturing you," Ron said in disbelief. "If the parents knew about this--"
"Yeah, well, I haven't got any folks, have I, Ron?" Harry scoffed.
"Harry, you've got to report this. It's perfectly simple, you're being--" Hermione said calmly but firmly.
"No, it's not," Harry argued. "Hermione, whatever this is, it's not simple. You don't understand."
Harry began packing up his things and standing up. "Then help us to," Hermione said. Harry didn't respond as he walked away.
"I tried to convince him," I said quietly.
"Harper, did she do that to you, too?" Ron asked, suddenly worried.
I was tempted to lie, but I figured they'd find out eventually. With a sigh, I held out my hand and he took it in his, examining it. I could see the fury in his eyes as his jaw tightened.
"I'm going to murder that woman," Ron said angrily.
"You're not murdering anyone," I replied, interlacing our fingers. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."