Disclaimer: I do not own any characters used in this story, all recognizable names, locations, and characters are property of the wonderful JK Rowling, who was lovely enough to bless us with the Harry Potter books to become obsessed with as I have.

Summary: AU fifth-year. Professor McGonagall sees the scars on the back of Harry's hand and questions him about it. Professors Snape and Dumbledore may also make an appearance. Snape is a bit OOC, and Harry is a little more mature than usual. Rated T for mild language and repeated mentions of a magical weapon that slices hands open, as well as a description of the cuts on the back of Harry's hand because of the detentions. I may add one more chapter to give it a nice ending.

…..

Forever Etched in Skin

…

Chapter 1

Harry rolled out of his four-poster bed, his feet hitting the cold stone floor with a soft thump. It was 2:00 a.m., but a nightmare had woken him up, and he couldn't get back to sleep. He knew he would regret it in the morning, but he decided to just read Quidditch Through the Ages until a time that he could shower without feeling bad for waking up his dorm mates. He fished the book out of his trunk and settled against his headboard to read by wand light.

…..

At 7:00, Harry put his book down and slid back out from under his covers to take a shower. It was still a bit early, since breakfast was at 8:00, but he had gotten bored with reading, even if it was about his favorite thing to do.

After his shower, he met up with Ron and Hermione in the common room to go to breakfast a bit early. Hermione, predictable as ever, decided it was a good time to continue their argument about his detentions with Umbridge.

"Think about it, Harry, Professor Dumbledore would go ballistic if he knew what Umbridge was doing, not to mention what Professor McGonagall would do…" Hermione started. Ron was busy stuffing his mouth to the breaking point to pay much attention to the conversation.

"Hermione, I know. We've had this argument about a million times. I don't want to bother Dumbledore with this when he doesn't have time to even look at me anymore. Besides, if I tell someone, she wins. I won't have that." Harry cut Hermione off.

"But, Harry…"

"Hermione, give it a rest. Let the man have at least a peaceful breakfast. If you just can't let it go, at least wait until Tranfiguration or Charms where we're less likely to be heard. Honestly, the man just rolled out of bed an hour ago and you've already brought this up, it's getting a bit old, right mate?" Ron gave Harry a pointed look before once again filing his mouth to stretching point.

Harry had started to doze off, his head falling onto his arm. His head snapped up when Ron mentioned his name, and he gave a small nod before returning to his eggs and bacon, purposefully ignoring Hermione's curious looks.

….

Transfiguration was the first class of the day. Harry reluctantly made his way from the Great Hall up to the Transfiguration classroom, wanting to crawl back into bed. His early morning had come back to bite him in the arse.

He, Ron, and Hermione made their way to their usual desk, and Harry immediately plopped down in the seat and rested his head on his hands, forcing his reluctant eyes to stay open. He could just skip History of Magic next and catch a quick nap before lunch.

Professor McGonagall looked up from the essay she was grading when everyone was seated, and looked over the class. Her eyes rested a bit longer on Harry, noticing the bags under his eyes and the way his eyes were drifting shut before they snapped back open. She gave him a curious look before starting the lesson. Harry was so tired he didn't even notice.

…..

"Honestly, Harry, maybe you should stay after class and tell Professor McGonagall-" Hermione started, jabbing her wand at the mouse they were supposed to be transfiguring into a Sugar Mouse. It instantly turned into a bright white, sugary, stationary piece of candy.

"I said no Hermione! I don't need to bother Professor McGonagall with petty stuff like this!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, making the sleeves of his school robe fall to his elbows.

"It's not petty-"

"Very good, Miss Granger. This is perfectly transfigured. Ten points to Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall had walked up behind the desk while they were talking, noticing how Harry's head was still drooping. He had even forgotten to pull his sleeves back down….

"Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed, noticing the red scars on the back of his hand.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry answered, following her gaze down to his hand. He hastily pulled his sleeve back down to cover the back of his hand, but he had a feeling he was too late.

"Stay after class. I need a word with you," Professor McGonagall started. The bell rang, signaling the end of class. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you please let Professor Binns know that Harry is with me, and he is, in fact, not skipping class. Though I doubt he would actually notice…" Professor McGonagall smiled and ushered them out the door, closing it behind them.

"So, Harry," Harry registered the use of his given name; this was not good. "Care to explain to me how those scars came to be on the back of your hand. It looked a bit like letters, but I couldn't make them out before you pulled your sleeve down. May I see your hand, please?" Professor McGonagall held out her hand to take his.

Every ounce of drowsiness was gone from Harry's system; he had to find a way out of this. "You see Professor, I injured myself-" Harry started.

"Please don't lie to me, Harry. I only want to help you. Your hand, please." McGonagall didn't phrase it as a question this time, it was an order. Harry sighed and reluctantly placed his hand palm down in Professor McGonagall's, waiting for the explosion that was sure to happen.

"I must not tell…HOW DID THIS GET ON YOUR HAND, HARRY?!" McGonagall yelled. Harry winced at the volume and shrillness that accompanied her outburst, and tried to tug his hand out of McGonagall's. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to shout. How did this get on your hand?" McGonagall held onto his hand, and replied calmly, though Harry could see the rage burning in her eyes.

"Um … well … see … Umbridge's detentions … they … um … well … shemakesmeuseaspecialquillthatcutsthebackofmyhandopenandtakesbloodfrommyhandtouseasink."

"Slow down, Harry, what is this about Umbridge?" Harry registered that this was the only Professor he had heard Professor McGonagall refer to last name only; he didn't call her a professor. That alone caused Harry to take a deep breath and repeat what he had said so McGonagall could understand him.

"Um, in Umbridge's detentions, um, she makes me use this special quill that, um, cuts the back of my hand open and, um, takes my blood to use as ink." Harry replied, already bracing himself for the imminent outburst from his Head of House.

Harry could see McGonagall's gears turning in her head before she opened her mouth and yelled, louder than he'd ever heard her, "SHE USED A BLOOD QUILL ON A STUDENT?! ON ONE OF MY GRYFFINDORS?! I'M GOING TO KICK HER UGLY TOAD ARSE!" McGonagall abruptly dropped Harry's hand and started toward the door.

"Professor, WAIT!" Harry yelled. McGonagall slowed her brisk pace to a stop before turning to face Harry, rage burning in her eyes. "Don't go and hex her or anything, please Professor. I don't want you losing your job on my account." Harry pleaded, making his way over to stand in front of his Head of House.

"But…that bitch…she…she used a blood quill on…on…she used a blood quill on one of my Gryffindors!" Harry's usually composed and articulate Tranfiguration professor was stuttering and swearing, this wasn't a good sign.

"It…um…wasn't just me she used it on. I know for a fact that she used it on Lee Jordan also…" Harry had to stop and grab his professor's hand to stop her from storming out and kicking Umbridge's arse. "Please, Professor. I don't want you to get sacked for this. She'll win, and we'll lose an amazing teacher and Head of House." Harry continued to plead. McGonagall physically deflated a bit when Harry said she was an amazing teacher, and she seemed to calm enough to be able to think a bit rationally.

Harry could see McGonagall going through a heated internal debate, before she grabbed his hand just as abruptly as she had dropped it earlier. "Come with me, Harry." She dragged him out of her classroom and off in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

"NO!" Harry yelled, coming to stop in the middle of the corridor, despite McGonagall still trying to drag him along. "I don't want to bother Professor Dumbledore with this." Harry stated firmly.

"This isn't up for debate, Potter," Harry registered the renewed use of his last name, "You're lucky you stopped me from hexing her until she was actually the toad that she looks like. You subtly flattery worked. However, you will not stop me from bringing this up to the Headmaster. That toad must be stopped." McGonagall stated, her usual stern teaching mode back in place.

"Can Dumbledore really do anything anyway? Fudge already has it out for him, won't accusing Umbridge of…whatever she did…make things worse?" Harry continued desperately.

"Using a blood quill is extremely illegal, Potter, especially since she repeatedly used it on a child. We will have her toad arse thrown into Azkaban, and there isn't a damn thing Fudge can do about it." McGonagall replied, the rage still dancing in her eyes.

Harry sighed and let McGonagall continue to drag him down the corridor, it seemed there wasn't a damn thing he could do about this.

…

They finally reached Dumbledore's office, and proceeded onto the spiral staircase, McGonagall still holding Harry by the wrist of his left hand, the scars clearly visible. McGonagall barked "Chocolate Frog!" at the gargoyles guarding the office, and it seemed to Harry that they jumped out of the way a lot faster than normal. It seemed even stone gargoyles knew to stay out of the way of an enraged Minerva McGonagall.

McGonagall didn't even bother knocking on the office door, and proceeded to barge in unannounced, making Dumbledore give her a look of confusion, and making Snape, who was sitting in the chair across from Dumbledore's desk, scowl.

"Minerva, Harry! What a surprise! Would you like a lemon-"

"DON'T START ON YOUR RIDICULOUS CANDIES, ALBUS! YOU HIRED THAT DAMN TOAD TO INEFFECTIVELY TEACH OUR STUDENTS, AND THEN LET HER PROCEED TO ILLEGALLY HARM THE CHILDREN UNDER OUR CARE!" McGonagall screamed, making Dumbledore's eyebrows disappear into his white hair and Snape's scowl disappear into a curious expression.

"Minerva, whatever are you talking about?" Dumbledore asked carefully, noticing that McGonagall was boiling over with seething rage.

"That bitch used a blood quill on our students!" McGonagall yelled, thrusting Harry forward, left hand first. The lighting in Dumbledore's office caught Harry's scars, making them clearly visible to everyone in the room.

Snape's face instantly grew murderous, genuinely surprising Harry. Snape didn't care about Harry, he didn't even like him, why should he be mad that a blood quill was used on him?

Harry was even more surprised when the whirring instruments around the room started shaking, and nearly jumped out of his skin when about a dozen of them exploded. He whipped his head around to see Dumbledore staring off into the distance, white-faced with rage. Harry could physically see Dumbledore struggling to get his magic under control. Five more instruments exploded before he accomplished that feat.

Snape recovered from the shock of Dumbledore losing control of his magic first, and his face turned from pure shock back into murderous. He grabbed Harry's hand, gentler than Harry would ever had dreamed possible, and held it up to the light for examination.

Harry had had a week off from detention, but the skin around the cuts was still pink and tender, and the words I must not tell lies were blood red, brittle scabs, forever etched into his skin.

"That…woman…did this to you? For what reason?" Snape's hands and words were shaking slightly, and he wasn't talking nearly as smoothly as usual, yet he seemed the only adult in the room with any composer. McGonagall was sitting next to Snape, visibly seething, completely oblivious to the conversation next to here. Dumbledore was pacing near the window, still obviously struggling to keep his magic under control. He seemed oblivious to the conversation as well.

"Well, I said in class that Vol-"

"Don't say his name!" Snape winced as pain seared up his Dark Mark.

"Sorry, Professor," Snape was shocked at the amount of respect he was receiving from Harry, as well as the fact that he didn't argue. He must really be out of it, Snape thought. "I said in class the first day that he was back, and she yelled at me, and I argued a bit, so she assigned me a week's worth of these detentions, then I did it again the second class, and ever since she's found every reason possible to give me a week's worth of detentions. One time she gave me a week of them for writing my name down on a piece of parchment while she was writing on the board the instructions for the essay we were writing that day." Harry shrugged and pushed on a bit more. "I never wanted to bother anyone with this. I can live with it. It's not like she's using the Cruciatus Curse on me or anything, though I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to one day. Sorry to be a bother, Professor. I'm sure seeing me outside of class is making your day." Harry rolled his eyes and tried to tug his hand away from Snape's.

"Harry," Harry registered that Snape, Snape, had called him Harry. "Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart, and I have come to care about you a lot over your years of foolishness here. I have to pretend to hate you in class because there are children of Death Eaters in your class, and it would not be good if the Dark Lord heard I was being nice to you. I do care about you though, Harry. I don't hate you. And I hate seeing that despite all of my work trying to protect you, you have still found a way to have bodily harm inflicted upon you, by a professor, no less." There wasn't even a hint of sarcasm in Snape's statement, except at the end. Harry was shell-shocked, to say the least.

"That's good, Professor, because, despite the fact that you believe I do, I don't hate you either. I figured you were mean to me in class because of Malfoy and his cronies. I didn't like you first year, but then Quirrell told me that you saved my life when he tried to kill me during the Quidditch match. Ever since I've only pretended to hate you for the sake of Malfoy and the other Slytherins in the class. And, even though you're biased against Gryffindors, you're actually a pretty good teacher." Harry gave Snape a small smile, which his professor returned.

Harry then turned to Dumbledore, who was still pacing. "Professor Dumbledore!" Harry yelled to get his attention. Dumbledore instantly snapped back into reality, as did Professor McGonagall. "I know what you're going to ask, Professors. Why didn't I tell one of you? I didn't tell any of you because I thought that if one of you tried to stop Umbridge, she would find a way to get you fired, or arrested. I can handle a little pain if it means keeping all of you here."

"Harry, it's illegal to even own a blood quill-"

"I was raised by muggles, Professor. I didn't know what it was called or that it was illegal, so I decided that you guys were more important than me, and made a decision to protect you guys instead of myself."

"We aren't more important than you Harry…" Professor McGonagall started, but Harry cut her off.

"All three of you are to me."