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Detention with Professor Umbridge
"Good evening, Mr Potter."
Harry stopped, just inside the doorway and surveyed the room. Disgusting was a good word to describe it. Horrible, would be another.
"Have a seat." Umbridge said in that sickly sweet voice.
Offput by the multiple meowing clocks on the wall and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pink in the room, he did as he was told.
"You're going to be doing some lines for me, today, Mr Potter." She explained, "No, not with your quill."
She pulled one out of a drawer in her desk and walked towards him. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine."
She laid it down on the sheet of parchment and stepped back.
"Now, I want you to write, 'I must not tell lies.'."
"You haven't given me any ink!" Harry protested, in confusion.
"Oh, you won't need any ink." She replied, a devious glint in her eye.
Harry stared down at the page, the quill held loosely in his hand. She watched him with growing excitement for the punishment to begin.
"No, I can't. I really think you should give me some ink." Harry declared, leaning back away from the table.
"You won't need any." Umbridge repeated, gritting her teeth in frustration.
"Then perhaps you could give me a demonstration." Harry replied, crossing his arms and giving her a no-nonsense look.
"You will write your lines, boy." She growled, as much as she could with that awfully high pitched voice.
"Look, I don't know what queer, fruity world you live in, but here in the real world, we use ink to write with. If you haven't got any, I'm sure I can borrow some from somewhere."
"Write the lines."
"I've already told you, I can't without ink!"
Umbridge took a deep breath, trying to centre herself before turning on him again, "It isn't difficult. All you do, is start writing and the ink will take care of itself."
Harry lifted the quill up to eye level, checking it over carefully. Then he placed it back on the table and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. But that isn't a self-inking quill. You should take it back, you've been ripped off."
Umbridge cried out in frustration, before grabbing Harry's hand and wrapping it around the quill. She began a stroke on the page, but Harry's fingers slipped, leaving her the only one in contact with the writing implement of torture as it touched the page. A glistening red line appeared, following the sweep of the quill and Umbridge dropped it with a blood-curdling scream.
"Ooh, that's how it works." Harry exclaimed, holding up the paper and peering at the line. "That's wicked."
He glanced over at his teacher, who was whimpering in the corner. To his amusement, all of the cats in her numerous plates and frames had fled as far away as possible, leaving the frames near her completely empty.
"Well, I can see you're indisposed. I'll let myself out."
He smirked as he closed the door and left her rooms.
"I hate children." She sobbed.
