Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR! Enjoy!

Chapter 1 – There's Irony in Anonymity

I frowned as I slowly made my way out of the Great Hall, the raucous students swirling around me as they jabbered on about their summers or what happened on the train ride or how much they were going to drink during this upcoming weekend.

Hadn't they noticed that Hagrid wasn't here? Hadn't they heard the Sorting Hat's new song? And didn't they just hear what our new Defense professor had just said? The Ministry was infiltrating Hogwarts. Why would Fudge do that? Did he not trust Dumbledore? Was this because of what had happened to Cedric?

My heart shifted uncomfortably in my chest as I remembered the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Cedric was one of the few people at school that would actually make an effort to talk to me. He hadn't cared if his friends laughed when he sat down next to me during breakfast, and he would always tell me to come see his quidditch matches. He'd even invite me to study with him in the library.

I breathed a sigh of relief once I had made it into the Entrance Hall. I always hated the traffic jam that swelled when everyone tried to leave the feast at the same time…I didn't much care for crowds. All those people in the same place, talking at once? It made me nervous to say the least.

I peeled off to the left, turning down the corridor towards my common room. I saw students sneaking off into the dimly lit halls, no doubt to drink and snog, and spotted my own two dormmates, Grace and Noel, among them. I would have the room to myself for a good two hours.

As I came up to the stack of barrels, a redheaded figure suddenly tumbled out of the kitchens, shoving me against the wall. I caught my bearings as three small boys sprinted past, yelling about going to steal someone's knickers.

"Sorry!"

Slowly, I turned my head to face George Weasley, or was it Fred? Either way, both of them were standing in front of me, looking sheepish.

"What were you doing? You're not allowed to go in there," I stated, trying my best to assert authority into my voice.

The twin standing furthest from me raised his eyebrows in shock. "Hey! She can talk!"

"Fred, shut up!" The one who had jostled me, who must have been George, elbowed his brother. "So sorry for him and terribly sorry for bumping into you, madame."

I ignored his gallant bow, unamused by his antics. "I could dock points, you know."

Both of them stopped for a moment to peer at the shiny, gold Prefect's badge that was placed on my robes. "Ah," George said with a solemn nod. "So you could. But I would like to argue my case here, if you don't mind, you see-"

Being stared at by two of the most infamous people in the school so intently was starting to make me sweat. "You know what?" I interrupted. "I'm not going to. First night back and all. So uh, good night!"

Without looking back at either of them, I dashed down the hall to the barrels, tapped the correct one to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff, and all but dove through the tunnel it created. As soon as the passageway was sealed once more and my feet hit the thick, brown rug that I'd come to associate with home, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I made my way over to the hallway that led to the various dormitories, completely unsurprised as no one so much as looked up at me. I didn't have any friends here, mainly acquaintances. In first year, everyone had been so eager to meet one another, and had formed all these clusters of people that, over the years, had become close mates. Me, on the other hand, had been so terrified of the strangers I was surrounded by, that I had spent the entire train ride in the loo with a book, Tuck Everlasting to be exact.

At the Welcome Back Feast, I had been nodded at politely and congratulated by a few of my new housemates, but I had immediately buried my face in my book as the sorting continued, afraid to even look up for fear of catching someone's eye. I had made an attempt to speak to the other two girls that had been sorted along with me, but I was so shy and awkward that I couldn't even tell them my name. They'd declared me a freak and spent the night showing one another their lip gloss collections.

So, the years dragged on and I became more and more accustomed to being alone. I honestly didn't mind. It meant that I got a lot of reading done, and I never had to stay up late to do my homework, because it was usually finished before dinner. With a sigh of contentment, I shut and locked the door to my dormitory behind me, releasing my satchel on my bed. It was the one furthest from the bathroom, as Grace and Noel had claimed the others in first year, but I didn't mind, because it was right next to a window that overlooked the quidditch pitch.

Despite my fear of heights, the sport fascinated me. I'd played football when I was younger, but had always been too busy thinking about whatever book I was currently reading to focus much on the game. Quidditch was different though. It was so fast-paced, it was unbelievable how swiftly and fearlessly the players moved. I'd loved watching Cedric play, because he always looked so happy up in the air. And he was always so modest when he caught the snitch.

I wandered into the bathroom and turned on the faucet to the shower, allowing the heat to fog up the mirror as I slowly undressed, depositing my various bottles of soap and shampoo onto the shelf. This is what I always did the first night back. I would shower, unpack, then curl up in bed with the curtains drawn, reading until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I liked routines. They were safe. And certain.

Once out of the shower, I brushed out my hair and settled into my usual pajamas of a hole-filled, gray jumper and white cotton pants, and nestled under my covers with my copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. It was my favorite, and would have fallen apart years ago had it not been for a bit of magic at the binding. As I picked back up with the Ewells, I heard the door unlock.

The lights were turned back on and whoever it was sniffed a few times, muffling tears as they quietly entered the bathroom. She was alone? And crying? Gently I peeled back my hangings, noticing the satchel that had been tossed on the bed next to mine; Grace.

I slid out of bed and made my way over to the locked, mahogany door. I knocked. "Grace? Is everything all right?"

The tap immediately turned on. "What? Oh, I'm fine! I just stubbed my toe is all." Her voice was thick with tears.

For a moment my words caught in my throat as I contemplated why I was even standing there. Then I steeled my nerves. "I know we're not friends, but if you want to talk…I'm a pretty good listener. Not a great talker, but, you know that…" I mumbled the last part to myself and turned to head back to my bed.

The door slowly opened behind me. "Do you mind?"

"No! No, of course not." I tucked my damp hair behind my ear and observed her unkempt blonde hair and smudged makeup.

Almost nervously, Grace settled herself on her bed opposite me. "It's just…it's Noel. She's been distant this whole summer. You know we only hung out once? And that was right after school let out, in June. Turns out it's because she's been seeing Patrick Bagby."

My eyes widened. Grace had fancied Patrick since third year. "Do you think she knew that you liked him?" I asked timidly.

"Oh yeah, she knew," Grace sniffed bitterly. Her sparkly, purple nails shredded the tissue in her hands. "She did it to get back at me for snogging Martin Applebee last spring, but he kissed me! And we were playing Spin the Bottle."

I remembered the blowout that had happened. They hadn't realized I was in my bed when they'd started having a go at one another. I learned quite a bit about both of them; mainly, that they had snogged a lot of boys.

My fingers traced the paisley pattern of my bedsheets. "Well…have you talked with her about this? You know, tried to listen to her side of the story?"

"Her side of the story is that she's a slut!" she burst out shrilly.

I pursed my lips. "Perhaps she fancies him too. She might not have ever told you, because she was afraid it might upset you. And she's probably really sorry."

The blonde narrowed her eyes. "I don't care. You don't do that to a friend! You just don't! If someone that was your friend tried to do that to the boy that you fancied, would you be all right with it?"

Well, I had no friends, and Cedric was… But I guess if I did, then I wouldn't much like it. "No," I whispered, fighting back the sobs that I could feel climbing up my throat.

"Exactly," Grace said quietly, and without any satisfaction. There was a knock on the door.

"Grace? I know you're in there. Will you please come out, so we can talk? Just let me explain!" More knocking. "Grace!"

She looked at me uncertainly. "…should I go?"

I was taken aback. Not only was she confiding in me, she was asking for my opinion. I considered it. On one hand, if Grace was angry with Noel, perhaps she would start sitting with me at meals and in classes, and I could finally have a friend. On the other hand, if the two were fighting all year, it would be a very uncomfortable sleeping environment. I nodded.

"All right," she muttered, smoothing out her skirt and flicking back her hair as she stood and walked over to the door. "Thanks Prudence."

I gave a small smile, and closed my hangings as she closed the door.

Their voices faded as they headed back towards the common room, and I picked up my book once more, only to find out that I wasn't able to concentrate on the words. I was suddenly overcome with memories of Cedric…the way he'd looked walking down the corridor, so confidently, with his smile pasted on his face as he made his way to Charms class…him tutoring first years in the library, his brow crinkled and his fingers blackened with ink. He was so kind. He was just a genuine person. You didn't find someone like that very often. I couldn't believe that he wasn't here with us, laughing in the common room or getting ready for bed in his dormitory. He wasn't head boy this year; instead, Charles Goldstein took his place. Martin Applebee was now our quidditch captain.

I folded up on my side, placing my book and wand onto my bedside table. I wondered how Cho Chang was doing. I hadn't seen her at the feast, although I hadn't really been looking. I'd mostly been staring at the space next to Patrick and Martin that was left empty. Perhaps Cedric was the reason that Professor Umbridge was at our school. Did this mean that Minister Fudge was actually concerned about You-Know-Who? Did he believe that he was back, like Harry Potter said?

The thought was too awful to bear. He had done so much damage the first time. A second period of terror under his reign sent a shock of fear down my spine. I shook my head of my ridiculous thoughts and screwed my eyes shut tightly, concentrating on sleep.

I was the first one awake the next morning. I hadn't heard Grace or Noel come back last night, but both of their hangings were closed, so I tiptoed over to the bathroom, where I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I had already dressed and packed my bag with all of my books and supplies when Noel emerged from her bed, her strawberry blonde hair somehow looking perfect and her skin flawless.

"Oh, it's just you," she muttered, brushing past me into the loo.

I guess I shouldn't have expected anything else. I cautiously made my way to the Great Hall. I always made an effort to get there before it was packed, because I hated walking in while nearly everyone else was already sitting down. Just the thought of it gave me the chills. Thankfully, there were only a handful of people seated, so I picked a spot near the end of the Hufflepuff table out of the way and began making myself a cup of tea.

Once I had my tea and a plate of toast in front of me, I dragged my book from my satchel.

"Miss Turner," a voice said from behind me. "Would you like me to give you your schedule now?"

I turned to find Professor Sprout. I smiled. She was my favorite teacher. She never picked me to answer questions if my hand wasn't up, which it never was, and always said hello to me in the corridors. Not to mention she had excused me from prefect duties last term after the tournament. "Oh, yes please!"

"Are you still thinking about becoming a healer?" she asked, her brusque voice laced with hope.

I nodded and shoved my hair behind my shoulder. "Yes."

She gave me a small smile of approval. "All right, I see no problems with your grades from last year. This puts you in Potions, Charms, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Is there anything else you would like to take?"

"I'd quite like to take Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, and Astronomy again," I said quietly, taking a sip from my cup of tea.

Professor Sprout tapped her wand on the parchment a few more times before handing it to me. "There you are. Now, if you feel like this work load gets to be too much for you along with your prefect duties, you come and find me, all right?"

As I nodded, she moved down the table to a group of fourth years. Today I had double Potions, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, and DADA. Not too bad. It was tomorrow I dreaded. I had double Charms, Astronomy, Muggle Studies, and Herbology. Though I loved Professor Sprout, I loathed the filthy, lethal plants and their ridiculous names. I had also never been very good at Charms. It wasn't my strong suit.

With a sigh, I decided to head down to the Potions room. It never hurt to be early, especially when Snape was your professor. There were only a few people there when I arrived, all Ravenclaws.

"Hello Sir," I said quietly as I passed his desk to settle into the corner table. He glanced up at me and gave a slight nod before returning to the parchment he was scribbling on. I was glad that was over with. He terrified me more than any other person at Hogwarts. I never knew when he was going to lash out at someone, and more than once he had made me cry – in secret of course. I would never allow any of my classmates to be privy to my tears.

Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson walked in with their other roommate, Janice Featherby, and Lee Jordan. I wasn't surprised that the twins weren't with them. Though I suspected they were smarter than their grades depicted, what with all of the complicated pranks they pulled, I doubted Snape would have given them a passing OWL. They hadn't been in potions last year, come to think of it. There was a serious lack of cauldrons blowing up.

The Gryffindors settled down at my table as the large group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws crowded the others. Martin Applebee scooted into the room behind Charles Goldstein and slid into the only available seat, which was next to me.

He glanced up at me as he placed his bag down. "Looks like it's just the two of us representing our house, huh?"

I gave him a faint smile, surprised he was even acknowledging me. "Looks like it."

"Cedric would have been here with us," he said suddenly, and immediately the Gryffindors quieted down their conversation. Angelina looked immensely uncomfortable.

"Yes, I suppose he would have…" I trailed off, trying not to imagine what it would be like to be his potions partner, how he would show me the correct amount of unicorn hair to add to our cauldron with an in-depth explanation and a wide grin on his face.

Martin rustled through his bag. "How's Cho?" I asked timidly, and he looked over at me in shock. I never initiated conversations. "Do-do you know?"

He looked thoughtful. "She's…coping. It hit her the hardest, I think. We lost a mate, but she lost her boyfriend. Saw her this morning though. She laughed at something Terry Boot said."

"Good, good," I muttered. Despite my feelings towards Cedric, I felt sorry for Cho. I'd seen the way she'd looked at him. She'd liked him just the same as me. And considering how I'd felt for the past four months, I knew she'd been having a hard time.

Gradually, the conversation between Janice and Lee started up again, and I pulled out my parchment, beginning to take down the notes that appeared on the chalkboard.

The class was a successful one. Martin had offered to be my partner, and we'd managed an E on our Drought of Living Death potion, which was great considering that it was one of the most difficult potions to create in existence. Of course Snape would assign us to that on the first day back. I was content with it, but I didn't think my father would be. He only ever showed interest in my schooling when my grades weren't satisfactory.

I didn't see the twins again until after lunch. I was settled into the third row of desks in McGonagall's classroom, doodling on a spare bit of parchment when they entered, Lee in tow.

"Can't believe that old toad," one of the twins muttered as they settled into the seats behind me.

Lee plopped down in his chair noisily. "She's Fudge's puppet. She's probably getting paid by him to say that Harry's a liar."

My quill slowed in my hands as I concentrated on their conversation.

"I can't believe she gave him detention, on the first day! That must be a record!"

"George, I think you're forgetting our first day of classes in fifth year," Fred sniggered.

I rolled my eyes to myself. Two years ago, the twins had glued their brother Percy to a moving staircase after he'd tried to dock points. This, of course, led to them each getting a week's worth of detention from McGonagall before breakfast had even begun.

So Harry Potter had gotten detention from the new professor this morning? And she was calling him a liar? The only thing I could assume Harry was talking about was You-Know-Who, and what had happened with Cedric last spring. The Daily Prophet hadn't been painting the most flattering picture of him, after all.

Suddenly, my quill slipped out of my fingers and rolled onto the floor. Umbridge wasn't here to investigate the situation. She was here to contain it.

"Hey, you dropped this," came from behind me, and I turned to see Grace and Noel.

I accepted the writing utensil from Grace's hands. "Thanks."

She nodded as her and Noel settled into the desk to my left. It appeared that the two had made up after their fight last night. It seemed we weren't going to become friends after all. I don't know what I expected to come out of our conversation. With a shrug, I busied myself with preparing my parchment and ink for class.

I thought I was going to once again be sitting alone, like I had in Ancient Runes before, but at the last minute Martin slid in beside me, nodding hello. I was confused. Patrick, Terrence, Grace, and Noel, the other seventh year Hufflepuffs, were sitting up front with an open seat beside them. Why was he sitting with me? It's not like we'd bonded when we were brewing our potion this morning. In fact, we'd hardly talked.

I tried not to think about him during the lesson, but it was hard. I fought the urge to ask him more questions about Cedric. Were his parents all right? Where was he buried? Were any of his things still in their dormitory? But of course, I didn't say anything, because I was terrified of what would happen if I did.

I was immensely relieved as the bell rang. Martin's presence beside me made me anxious, and I had to admit that I was eager to see if anyone would speak up to Umbridge about what had happened this morning. I once again took my place in the second to last row of desks by the wall. No one sat beside me as everyone filed in, and I noticed once more, with slight annoyance, that the twins had seated themselves behind me.

"Wands away," came from behind us, and our new professor strolled up the aisle with her pink high heels clacking against the stone.

There was a slight murmur throughout the room. Never had we been asked to pocket our wands in a Defense class, not even during our first lesson in first year.

"Yes?" she questioned the class, looking out into our sea of confused faces. When no one spoke up, she gave an ugly smile and gestured to the board behind her. On it read: Defense Against the Dark Arts, a Return to Basic Principles.

"Now, as I've determined with the fourth and fifth years so far today, it appears that your marks in this class have suffered severely in comparison to this institution's other courses. And yet, we cannot blame the students. It is the professors here who have failed you, stunting your growth with such fragmented, disrupted learning." Umbridge's face bore no grin, but she looked like she would happily welcome commentary. However, word had gotten around about her morning classes, for not a single person opened their mouth.

With a satisfied primp of her hair, she continued. "Your professors from years past have not followed the curriculum set out for them by the Ministry. This year, we will be rigorously following a Ministry-approved course for defensive magic. Now, if you could all take out a quill and copy down these three course aims…"

I squinted at the board, trying to decipher her swirly handwriting from the various bits of lace and frill that seemed to have swallowed the classroom whole. Understand the principles, learn how and when to use defensive magic? That was it? That was all we were going to accomplish as seventh year students who were about to go out into the real world?

I wanted to raise my hand and say something, but after having heard what happened to the fifth years, I wasn't particularly eager. There was a smattering of whispers throughout the room as others came to the same conclusion, but once again, the class remained quiet.

"Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," she started, once everyone's quills were down. "Now, as you know…"

Never had I so badly felt loathing for a professor. Yes, Snape was unfair to a lot of students, and yes, he clearly favored his own house and yes, he was unpleasant, but never had I feared that I wouldn't learn something, for he constantly challenged us. This woman, this Ministry worker was clearly here to do Fudge's bidding, and Fudge did not want us to learn how to cast defensive spells. What was he afraid of exactly?

My fingers began to itch, the way they always did when I got the urge to sketch. Glancing around furtively and finding everyone's attention to the front, I slowly dipped my quill into my inkwell and began to draft our new professor.

Umbridge's face took on the appearance of my neighbor's bulldog Roscoe, with her frilly pink skirt and high heels giving her a humorous makeover. The more she talked and I grew accustomed to her voice, the more detailed the drawing became. Her pearl earrings became dog bones, and her dog head began to bark at a few cats I doodled in the background.

"That's pretty good," someone whispered in my ear, and I jumped slightly, a blot of ink dripping off of my quill and staining the parchment. I scowled, turning to find George Weasley leaning over my desk.

I opened my mouth to reply, but our professor beat me to it. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Ms…"

Nervously, I looked up at her from under my hair. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. "Turner. And no ma'am."

George slunk back in his seat and gave Umbridge an ugly look.

"Are you sure? Because Mr. Weasley seemed extremely interested in your little drawing," she said sweetly. I didn't even want to ask how she already knew George's name. Her pink talons began reaching for my drawing and I panicked.

"No, no, it's nothing, really!" I exclaimed, pushing it out of her reach.

She extended her arm. "Miss Turner, you either give me the drawing, or I give you detention."

Feeling like I was about to be sick, I handed her the parchment. She snatched it out of my hand and observed it.

"I see…well, from the looks of things, you, Miss Turner, are a prefect, correct?" Her eyelashes fluttered at me until I nodded. "And you're supposed to be setting an example for your fellow students, but here you are wasting your class time by creating a vicious image of your professor. I think this warrants a detention, don't you?"

But she had just said…! My mouth dropped open as she smiled smugly and turned her attention to George. "Detention for you as well, Mr. Weasley, as you were encouraging this reckless behavior."

Fury was etched on his face. Fred and Lee sniggered at him behind their hands.

"Detentions for the both of you as well," Umbridge stated, before promptly turning on her heel and returning to the front of the room. The smirks dropped off of their faces.

I spent the rest of the class sitting on my hands, which were shaking so badly that I couldn't even hold my quill up to take proper notes. I was dead. I was deader than dead. If my father found out…

I'd never had detention in my life! I was a prefect! Would Professor Sprout revoke my position? That would make my father so angry. I couldn't get one of those letters. Oh Merlin I was going to be sick. The moment the bell rang, I grabbed my satchel and bolted out the door, leaving my drawing on the desk.

I pushed the door to the bathroom open so fast that it nearly swung back and hit me. I dropped to my knees in the first stall and emptied the contents of my lunch into the toilet, beads of sweat forming along my browline. I retched until all that came up was water, then shakily stood and washed my face in the sink.

My head was foggy. I barely registered the fact that there was someone waiting for me outside the door.

"Prudence!"

I turned abruptly, whirling into a Slytherin, who glared at me. "Filthy half-breed."

I ignored them and found the source of the voice. "Martin…hi," I said weakly. Vaguely I hoped my breath didn't smell of vomit.

"You left your drawing in class," he replied, hitching his bag up on his shoulder and handing it to me.

My fingers trembled as I took it from him and I noticed that my palms were clammy. "Thanks," I mumbled, and walked away. I needed to get away from everyone. Now.

I spent the rest of my afternoon in my bed with the hangings drawn, writing an essay to Umbridge apologizing for my actions. What else were Hufflepuffs known for besides brown-nosing? I was hoping I could convince her not to send word to my father about the detention. Once I had finished, I decided that I should go down to dinner, despite my stomach's protests.

There was an unusual amount of chatter in the Great Hall tonight. A lot of people were looking at Harry Potter, and I couldn't blame them. On any given day he was something to look at, but now that it had been made very clear that the Ministry didn't agree with him about You-Know-Who, a lot of students were giving him a wide berth. The Gryffindor table was split down the middle, and I could clearly see who was on Harry's side and who was on Fudge's. All of the Weasley's were seated around him of course, but two of his roommates were not.

I was distracted from my observations by a second year named Louise. "This is for you Miss," she said quietly, retreating back down the table. As I opened it, I noticed the twins and Lee doing the same thing.

Miss Turner,

You will arrive to my office promptly at 8pm. You will be writing lines. No need to bring a quill or ink; I have my own.

Dolores J. Umbridge

Well at least I didn't have to clean out any cauldrons or help our caretaker Filch. Those were two of the worst kinds of detentions students here received. I felt like such a delinquent. The twins were carrying on like nothing ever happened, but my legs had been quivering all day. I subconsciously rubbed my left wrist as I thought about the last time my father had received an owl from the school.

At 7:30 I could no longer take sitting in the hall by myself, and headed back up to the DADA classroom, my essay in hand. Though I was early, I knocked on the office door anyway.

"Come in," Umbridge called in her sickly sweet voice that reminded me of the gross red medicine I was forced to take when I was ill as a child.

I blinked. Her entire office was pink…and frilly. I nearly jumped out of my boots when a cat meowed in my ear. I focused on my professor. "Hi, Professor Umbridge…I know I'm early, but I just wanted to give you this essay. It's an apology. For my drawing. I just wanted you to know that it was very out of character for me. I've never gotten a detention before, and I promise that it will never happen again," I burst out nervously, handing her the parchment.

"How nice of you." Her pink nails enclosed the essay and she placed it down neatly on her desk. "You may take a seat. Once Misters Jordan and Weasley are here, we will begin."

Awkwardly, I sat down in a lacy, white chair in front of her desk, occupying myself with Jem, Scout, and Atticus until the others arrived, at which point parchment and quills were placed in front of the four of us.

"Each of you will write, 'I must not disturb the class,'" she insisted, settling herself primly in her seat.

I picked up my quill and examined it for a moment. "How many times would you like us to write the line, Professor?"

Her blue eyes fixated on me. I didn't like the way she was smiling. "You will write it until the message sinks in."

"Won't we be needing ink?" Lee piped in.

Umbridge gave another wide smile. "Oh no, Mr. Jordan. I have special quills that don't require any."

Whatever that meant. With a muffled yawn, I picked up the quill in front of me and began to write. As I got to the word disturb, the tingling sensation I felt in my left hand turned to a burning feeling, and I immediately dropped the quill back on the desk.

"Is there a problem Miss Turner?"

I glanced sideways at George. He cocked his head to the side and mouthed, 'you okay?'

Feeling Umbridge's watchful gaze, I nodded slowly and began writing again. I heard Lee let out a small gasp, and a look of realization came over the twin's faces. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to finish my first line and begin the next. My left hand was turning bright red.

I could hardly concentrate on the words. My hand felt like it was on fire. The reason this quill didn't need ink was because it used blood. My blood. Fred's blood. The blood of whomever was writing with it. This had to be illegal. If the other professors knew, would they disallow it? Would Umbridge get in trouble? Or would I simply get another detention?

My strategy was to write the line as quickly as possible, but then I remembered that there was no set limit to the detention and I could be writing all night. At that point, I began writing slowly, which was almost worse. I followed George's lead and wrote like I typically did, at a steady, neat pace. The clock on the wall had a cat tail that wagged as every second passed. I could feel the eyes of the animals on the wall watching us. I had a feeling that if they could, they would be laughing at us.

After an hour, I felt like I couldn't write another line. I bit back tears and my hand wavered. George's foot gently stepped on mine, and I forced myself to keep writing. I had a feeling that if one of us stopped, Umbridge would keep us here longer as punishment.

To make matters worse, there was a newspaper clip from the Daily Prophet on her desk about the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Cedric's death. My heart felt like it was clenched in an iron vice, and I chewed on my lip so viciously that I drew blood. Great. Now I was bleeding in two places.

Finally, at 9:45, she told us to place our quills down. I barely restrained myself from chucking mine at her as she collected all of our papers. George's by far had the most lines. Lee's had the least.

"You may go. I trust that none of you will be back in this office writing lines?"

For the second time that day I felt like I was going to be sick. "No ma'am," I managed to speak, and backed out of the office. I accidentally brushed my hand up against a desk and cried out, clutching it to my chest. "Shit."

"Are you all right?" George asked, jogging over.

I stared at him.

"Er, okay, obviously you're not. Can I help you with your hand?" He ran his good hand through his red hair so it stuck up all over the place.

I stared at him some more. "Do you know any healing spells?"

"Well, no," he admitted.

"Then no." I began walking again.

He caught up to me once more. "Look, I just wanted to apologize. I know this was my fault. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I tried to say, but my voice caught.

"Oh Merlin, are you crying? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" he rambled, looking alarmed.

I swallowed. "It's not you," I managed. "It's just the bleeding, and she had that stupid article about Cedric on her desk…"

I hated the look he was giving me. Immediately my expression disappeared and I brushed past him, heading back to my common room. This time he didn't catch up with me.

A/N: This is my new George Weasley/OC story! It's set during OoTP but is slightly AU. If you liked it (and even if you didn't) please feel free to drop a review and share your thoughts! 3