Harry's p.o.v.

I did a mental count of all that had happened this week. There was too much and I really didn't want to think about anything at the moment. I stared at my food in discontent as I listened to Ron and Hermione talk about Umbridge's class. Something Hermione said caught my attention.

"She's obviously been sent here by Fudge to spy on Dumbledore and all that happens here." Hermione confided in a soft voice. I nodded, agreeing with her. At my hearing she agreed with everything he had said.

"Another thing," Ron went on. "Where is Hagrid? It's been weeks and we've been stuck with Professor Grubbly-Plank."

"I haven't the slightest idea where he could be!" Hermione exclaimed. "It doesn't make any sense. What could he be doing?"

"I don't know." I said, finishing my meal. It didn't taste very good, at least, not as good as it normally did. "I have to get going. I need to ask Umbridge if she could move Friday's detention to another day so I don't miss Quidditch tryouts. Wish me luck."

"Good luck." They said in unison.

"He'll need it." I heard Ron mutter.

When I got to Umbridge's office door I took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," was the reply I got, in Umbridge's sickly sweet voice. I opened the door and was met with the purring and meowing of at least a hundred cats. The plates hung on the pink walls each displayed a cat, making just enough noise to be annoying.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said, sitting up straight behind her desk. She motioned to a small desk near hers, "Sit."

I closed the door and did as I was told. Something didn't feel right. I told myself to calm down. She was a teacher. It wasn't as if she could hurt me, right?

"Professor," I started. "I was wondering if you could move my detention on Friday to another day…"

"Why would I do that?" she asked me.

"Well, Quidditch tryouts are that day and—"

"Then it is out of the question. I will not move your detention. You must learn what is truly important, and that is certainly not Quidditch."

I nodded and looked down. I knew that would be her response, but I still had to try, didn't I? Umbridge went on.

"You're going to be doing some lines for me today, Mr. Potter." She smiled. I reached down to get my parchment and other supplies out when she interrupted my movements, saying, "No, not with your quill. You're going to be using a rather special one of mine." She handed me a quill with a grey feather. I picked it up hesitantly.

"Now. I want you to write 'I must not tell lies'." She said from behind me. I could practically see her smirking. I kept down a groan.

"How many times?" I asked carefully.

"Oh let's see." She answered in a terribly whimsical voice. "As long as it takes for the message to sink in."

"You haven't given me any ink." I told her.

"Oh you won't need any ink." She sounded smug as she turned around and picked up her tea from her desk. Sipping it, she smiled again at me, as if she knew something I didn't. I began writing and soon noticed a certain itching in my other hand. I tried to ignore it, but as I wrote more of the sentence it started to burn then seriously hurt, like something was being scratched into the back of my hand. I glanced down at it.

Faintly I could see the sentence I had just written on the paper etched into my skin as well. I watched as the new wound quickly healed over. I started the sentence again and the same feeling returned, only worse this time, reopening the cuts with new lacerations of I must not tell lies. I grimaced and bit my lip, trying to cry out in pain. I looked up to see Umbridge still smiling at me.

"Yes?" she asked with false concern.

I met her eyes as she awaited my answer. I replied as levelly as I could, "Nothing."

"That's right," Umbridge was quick to respond. "Because you know, deep down, you deserve to be punished, don't you Mr. Potter?"

I clenched my jaw to stop myself from doing something that could cause me to get into even more trouble.

"Go on." She whispered. I did as I was told.

Hours later Umbridge got up from her desk and approached me. Taking a closer look at my now injured had she said, "Tut, tut. It doesn't seem to have made much of an impression yet. We'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we?"

I swallowed and slowly picked up my things, then left her office. I was sweating from trying to not whimper in pain. I was exhausted as I tried to walk back to the Gryffindor tower. Somehow I forced myself up the many stairs and into the common room. The fire was almost out and no one was still awake. I remembered I still had to finish my homework so I sat down hopelessly at a table by the window and pulled out my Transfiguration school book. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

When I woke up I skipped breakfast to finish my work. My hand throbbed from the night before, but I didn't want to tell anyone about it. It was my problem. Little did I know that I would continue this way for the next week until someone found out.

I was proud of myself for dealing with the pain myself. I didn't want to go to anyone about what Umbridge was doing to me because then she would know that I was totally defenseless against her. My only problem was what Ron and Hermione would do if they found out. And one day they did.