My anger seemed to accompany me all the way through our first day of lessons. I barely spoke to anybody all day, apart from occasionally snapping at Ron and Hermione for bickering, and answering questions teachers shot at me, when they realised I wasn't paying attention. I just wanted to be left alone. I don't know what is going on inside my head, right now, but it doesn't feel right. I'm not usually one to hold grudges, but I couldn't help but feel a deep feeling of hatred towards Seamus that day. The whispers and the snide remarks that were being passed on as I made my way through the castle just made me want to curl up and cry. But I kept a brave face. I can't let them know they've broken me.
I was beginning to think that nothing could make me feel any more miserable than I already was, but I thought wrong. From the second I stepped into our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, I knew that it wasn't going to end well. Groups of Gryffindors and Slytherins loitered around the classroom, chatting away about their day and playing around, levitating many origami birds across the room. Harry and I make our way through the aisle between the desks, gritting our teeth and biting our tongues at the eye rolls and the jeers that were shot in our direction. I look over to my right and see Draco sat at one of the tables surrounded by a small group of Slytherins. He spots me and beckons me over, pulling out a chair. The other Slytherins clear off and go and find their own seats, when they see what he did. I glance over at Harry who is staring at my with sharp eyes, as he pulls out his own chair. He rolls his eyes and I mouth an apology, before heading off to go and sit with Draco.
He pushes his books aside to make room and I take the seat beside him, pulling out my own belongings. He smiles at me, brightly.
"Good day?" He whispers, placing his hand atop of mine, which was positioned on the desk, and skimmed his thumb over it, as if trying to comfort me.
"Yeah, fine." I say, slightly miserably. A complete lie. I glance at him, and give him a weak smile, trying to ignore my pain. I know he can tell that I'm lying by the look in his eyes. His face drops slightly and he smiles back at me, before a voice interrupts us.
"Good afternoon, children." the voice said, and the rest of the students became silent and took their seat. There was a weak murmur of 'good afternoon' in reply. Professor Umbridge made her way to the front of the classroom, her heels clicking against the wood floor, as she did so.
"Tut, tut," She said in a high-pitched voice, "That won't do now will it? When I say good afternoon, you will reply 'good afternoon Professor Umbridge!'" I look over at Draco in disgust and roll my eyes, as we chant 'good afternoon', once again louder, but in equally as bored voices.
"There," she says sweetly, with a sour smile, "That wasn't so difficult now, was it? Wands away and quills out please." I see people exchange many gloomy looks around the room: putting wands away pretty much determined we were in for a pretty boring lesson. I shove my wand back into my bag and pull out some parchment, along with a quill and some ink. I lean back in my chair, already starting to feel bored and agitated. Professor Umbridge pulls out her own wand and taps it on the blackboard. As if by an invisible piece of chalk, words began to write on the blackboard, in perfect cursive.
"Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations," she says, tapping her wand on the board with every word, "or more commonly known as O.W.L.s. Study hard, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be severe." She flicks her wand, once again and a stack of books began to hover along the aisles and distribute themselves between the students. I look down at the book in front of me: Dark Arts Defence - basic for beginners. I glance towards Draco, who's expression mirrors my thoughts. Does she think we're seven?
"Your previous instruction on this subject has been disturbingly - uneven. But you'll be pleased to hear that from now on, you'll be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic." I open the book and flick through a few of the pages, staring at it in disgust. I elbow Draco in the side to catch his attention and mouth 'is she fucking mental?' at him. He bites his lip and snickers silently, careful not to be noticed by Umbridge.
"If you could open your books and begin to read Chapter One, for me, please. There will be no need to talk." She says, craning her neck and examining us carefully, as we open our textbooks and start to read through the book. It was almost as if they were made for three-year-olds. Not wanting to pick an argument, I flick through Chapter One.
The room was eerily silent. I felt as though Umbridge's eyes were burning holes in my head, as I ducked down to read my book. The only time any noise was projected around the room was when Umbridge cleared her throat, loudly when she realised somebody wasn't paying attention. After a while she sat down at her own desk and put her head down, scribbling away at a piece of parchment and flicking through a few of her own books placed on her desk.
After about five minutes, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a hand shoot up. I look over and see Hermione's hand stretched into the air, wriggling her fingers eagerly. I see Umbridge look up impatiently and tap the end of her quill on her chin.
"Yes?"
"Uhm, there's nothing in here about using defensive spells," Hermione says, furrowing her eyebrows and turning the page of her book.
Umbridge suppresses a very girlish giggle, "Using spells? Well I can't imagine in any situation why you would need to use spells in my classroom." There was a long silence. I furrow my eyebrows and look around the classroom frantically. What? She can't do that, surely?
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron says, clearly astounded.
"You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"
"Well what use is that?" I interject, earning myself a small elbow in the ribs from Draco, "If were going to be attacked it won't be risk-free will it?"
"Students will raise their hand if they wish to speak in my classroom, Miss Potter." I thrust my hand into the air, earning a harsh look from Draco, but she ignores it and continues speaking, "It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be enough to get you through your examinations, which is of course what school is all about!"
"But what's theory going to do to prepare us for what's out there?" I say, resisting the temptation to stand up abruptly and slap her right across the face, with much difficulty.
"There is nothing out there dear!" Umbridge says, "What do you imagine would want to attack children, like yourself?"
"Oh, I don't know," I say, in a mocking tone, my temper finally getting the better of me, "Maybe Lord Voldemort!"
There was a long, tense silence. A few people gasped at the name. Lavender Brown let out a small scream. I felt Draco tense up from beside me, but Umbridge remained unfazed. She looks around the classroom in disbelief.
"Now... let me get this quite clear," she says, slowly approaching my desk, "You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This. Is. A. Lie-"
"It's not a lie!" I scream, giving up and springing to my feet quickly, "Harry and I fought him! We saw him!" Draco tugs at my sleeve eagerly try to pull me down back into my seat but I hit his hand away.
"Detention, Miss Potter!" Umbridge says, her voice echoing around my skull and making me want to rip my hair out.
"So according to you Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" I say. I feel a twinge if guilt when I say this. I hadn't fully recovered from this yet. I never imagined that I would have to see somebody die before my eyes. I still see it sometimes. It's still new to me. I hadn't spoken about it to anybody and now with thirty pairs of intently listening ears, I wish I had never brought it up.
"Cedric Dighory's death was a tragic accident!" Umbridge says.
"It was murder!" I scream, "Voldemort killed him-!"
"Enough!" Umbridge exclaims, "See me later, Miss Potter. My office. For now, come here, dear."
I kick aside my chair and stride to the front of the classroom. I could feel the whole class holding their breaths beside me, but I was so angry that I didn't care. She took out her quill and began to scribble something down onto a piece of pink parchment. I was breathing heavily at this point. Nobody spoke. After a minute or two, she ripped the parchment, folded it and thrust it into my hands.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, my dear." I stand, hesitantly for a few seconds before she clears her throat and I roll my eyes storming out of the class, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I did so, not even bothering to take one last look at Draco. I slam the door shut behind me and angrily make my way through the corridors, clutching the bite tightly in my hand. I just wanted to get as far away from that woman as I possibly could. I was so angry I could physically feel my blood boiling inside me. I was so distracted that I didn't even notice myself approaching McGonagall's office and knocking on the wood of the door, slightly more aggressively than I would have liked to.
"Come in." said a voice from behind the door. I push the door open and step into McGonagall's study. I stand there with crossed arms and a sulky looking face. She must think I'm such a child. She sits at her desk, her body hunched over a pile of parchment. She looks up at me with mere confusion. She pulls her glasses off the tip of her nose and pushes them onto her head.
"Olivia, dear, shouldn't you be in lesson?" She says, in a firm tone, raising an eyebrow.
"I've been sent to see you," I say, stiffly.
"Sent? What do you mean sent to see me?"
"Professor Umbridge sent me to see you," I repeat, holding out the piece of pink parchment. She takes it out of my hands and unfolds it, clearly reading it a few times before folding it back up and gesturing for me to take a seat. I do as I'm told.
"Well?" McGonagall says, impatiently, almost as if she was rounding on me. I shrug my shoulders. I don't know what she's waiting for. "Is this true?" she holds the note up, slightly.
"Is what true." I say, sulkily, crossing my legs and leaning back in the chair.
"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes," I say, timidly.
"You called her a liar?"
"Not directly..."
"You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?"
"Yes,"
I begin to fiddle with the sleeve on my robe, feeling slightly ashamed of myself. I'd never gotten a detention before. I was usually a relatively good student and I would never even think about shouting at teachers. But I felt different today. Almost as if I couldn't control myself. Almost as if it wasn't really me. I see Professor McGonagall place her glasses back on the tip of her nose and sigh.
"Have a biscuit, Potter." She says.
"Have- what?" I say in disbelief. I was expecting a scolding. Not- not a biscuit?
"A biscuit." She says, impatiently, shoving a tartan tin into my arms from her desk drawer, "Have a biscuit."
~
"What's up with you today, Olivia?" Ron says, scooping mouthfuls of peas into his mouth, at dinner that evening. "You've not been yourself all day. You've barely spoken to any of us, and then you go and shout at Umbridge!"
I poke my fork into my untouched shepherds pie. I wasn't hungry at all. My eyes move from my plate to meet Ron's. I glare at him, dropping my fork into my plate.
"Oh I don't know, Ronald, have a rough guess." I say, sarcastically, gesturing to the students whispering and pointing towards me in the Hall. Ron goes slightly pink and mutters an apology, before returning to eating his dinner.
"You know, we understand you're upset, Olivia, but we'd all appreciate it if you didn't take your temper out on us." Hermione says, sheepishly, as she takes a sip of her pumpkin juice. I stare daggers at her. I glance around at the three of them who are are staring into their plates. I roll my eyes and push myself off my chair, swinging my bag over my shoulder and muttering that I have a detention to be in.
When I reached entered Umbridge's office I almost vomited. Each and every one of the surfaces, within. the room had been draped with a lacy cloth. Several vases of flowers were scattered among the room, as if she was trying to make it look more girlish. The back wall was adorned with white, china plates, each decorated with a pink floral pattern, around the sides and a portrait of a different, moving kitten, each with a bow around their necks. Her carpet was pink too and was stiff underneath my feet. The whole room was filled with a stench of a really foul-smelling flowery perfume that made me turn up my nose.
"Hem hem," I snap my head around and see Umbridge sitting at a wooden, polished desk, also draped in a pink lace cloth, stirring an oddly pink coloured cup of tea and smiling maliciously at me.
"Now, Miss Potter, you're going to be doing some lines for me today," She said, standing up from her chair and giving me an oh so innocent smile. She gestures to a smaller desk beside her own and beckons me to sit. I do so. I begin to pull out a quill from my school bag but she stops me. "No. Not with your quill, dear. You're going to be using a rather special one of mine, today. Here you are."
She passes me a long, sleek, black quill, with an unusually sharp point to it. I look up at her suspiciously, waiting for her next instruction.
"Now, I want you to write 'I must not tell lies'" she says, curling her lips into a tight smile.
"How many times?" I say, beginning to grow impatient but hiding it with a tone of politeness within my voice.
"Let's say- as long as it takes for the message to sink in." She says with an evil smile. "Off you go."
"You haven't given me any ink."
"Oh you won't need any ink." she says with a slight giggle, before turning around to peer out of her office window. I sigh, before adjusting my grip on the quill and pressing it onto the parchment, writing I must not tell lies.
My hand begins to burn. I tear my gaze away from the shining red ink on the parchment and look at my hand. The skin was red raw. I watch in bewilderment and agony as the words from my paper began to carve themselves into my skin, as if by an invisible scalpel. I watch as my skin draws blood and soaked into my robe sleeve, letting out a stifled cry of pain as I did. The searing pain in my hand did not stop, once the words had been carved in, once. It was throbbing and bleeding like mad.
I see Professor Umbridge turn around from her position at the window, her chubby, toad like face stretched into an amused smile. What a monster.
"Yes?" she says, sweetly.
I glance at her and then back at my paper.
"Nothing."
"That's right," she says, placing a short, stubby hand, adorned with all sorts of ugly rings, on my shoulder, "Because you know, deep down that you deserve to be punished, don't you Miss Pearson?"
My heart skins right into my stomach. She didn't. I feel all of my blood rush into my head and it takes everything I have not to stand up and punch every inch of her. I haven't been called Miss Pearson in over a year. How dare she. How dare she!
"That's not my name." I whisper, quietly, drawing in a breath and holding it, waiting for the moment she would flip. She stares at me.
"Tut, tut," She says, shaking her head, "Lying again, are we? I seem my message hasn't properly sunk in yet. Lets see, shall we make that two more detentions shall we? I'll see you tomorrow evening, Miss Pearson, and the following after that. Same time. You may leave."
I wasn't angry this time. I was upset. As I leave the office, I can't help but let the tears I had tried so hard to hold back fall. It was only my first day back and I was already so broken. My hand throbs and stings, drawing blood with every second of it being exposed. My heart aches and beats rapidly in my chest as I choke out sobs, running through the corridors, just wanting to go to bed.
I hit something hard. Well - someone.
"Draco!" I exclaim shocked, but also anxiously. I see his face is bearing an expression of pure worry. His eyes scan my tear-stained face and swollen eyes. I see the concern flash behind his eyes as he takes in the state that I'm in. I frantically try to wipe my tears with the back of my hand, but end up smearing blood onto my cheeks. Panicking, I pull the sleeves of my robes up to my face and eyes, trying to rub off the blood and the tears, but ending up sobbing profusely into them.
"Oh my god, what's wrong?" Draco says, his voice laced with concern and panic. He stares at the blood on my cheeks and his eyes dart towards my hand. I attempt to hide it but he grabs it before I can. His eyes trace over the blood stained skin and the words that were carved into it.
"W-what? She did this? In your detention?" he says, in disbelief. I nod. His face falls. "Oh Liv, I'm sorry, you don't deserve that-"
"I don't want your pity," I say, trying to wrench my hand out of his grasp but he was too strong. Tears were falling silently from my eyes at an alarming speed, every second. I was right. I didn't want his pity. I didn't need it.
"What do you mean?"
"Just leave me alone." I say, still struggling to get my arm out of his reach. I was angry. I was tired. I was upset. I was broken.
"Leave you alone! Of course I'm not going to leave you alone! Don't be stupid! Look at you, you're in a right state!" he says. I steady my struggling and eventually relax into him. My breathing is still rapid but I just fall into him. He embraces me into a tight hug, pressing me tight against his chest and cradling me like a baby. My tears fall faster than ever at this point as I sob quietly into his chest.
"You've got to tell somebody," He whispers, tracing his thumb over the back on my hand. I cock my head up.
"No." I say firmly. No way am I telling anyone.
"What do you mean no?" Draco says, his eyes wide and his voice riddled with shock.
"I can't tell anyone." I say, "I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she got to me-"
"Got to you?" Draco says, stifling a laugh, "The woman's torturing you!"
I hesitate.
"Fine," I lie, coming up with a quick plan to get him off my tail "I'll tell Harry, when I get to the Common Room," I sniff and he smiles, pulling me closer into his chest.
I can't bear the thought of being the damsel in distress, once again. People treat me as if i'm incapable of doing anything for myself. Incapable of putting up a fight. I'm not going to tell anyone, because they'll undoubtedly push my down and fuss over me, as if I was as delicate as a feather. I'm going to show them what a real fight is. I can do this. This is my fight.