Thanks once again to my amazing Beta, KatHarkness-Katara. Also, thanks to all the lovely people who faved, followed, and/or reviewed. It means so much to me. A special shout out to Izane Sunstrider for being awesome. I love each and every one of you guys, and there is no way I could manage to do this without your support. Seriously, ya'll are amazing, and it cannot be overstated. I know you all just want to move on to the story, so here you go. Enjoy.
After bolting down dinner, Harry and Jack made their way to Umbridge's office. Harry knocked and in her sickly sweet voice, Umbridge called for them to come in. The boys stepped into the office cautiously. Jack nearly gagged. The first, overwhelming impression he got was pink. Pink and lace. Wretched, powdery pink and lacy doilies, old dead flowers, and technicolor cats on plates on the wall, each adorned with it's own over-sized bow.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Frost."
They both started, looking round. Her lurid, flower patterned robes blended with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.
"Evening, Professor Umbridge" Harry said stiffly. Jack remained silent. She looked at him expectantly, and he met her gaze evenly. One eyebrow crept up over a bulging eye as Jack remained stonily silent. Harry glared pointedly, as if saying 'be polite, we need her to let me out Friday'.
Jack sighed, "Good evening, Professor."
"Well, sit down." She gestured for them to sit at the two straight backed chairs. A piece of parchment sat on each desk, as if waiting for them.
"Er, Professor, I, uh, I was wondering, before we start, If I could ask a, er... favor.
Her toad-like eyes narrowed.
"Well, you see, uh, I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and the tryouts are five o'clock this Friday and I was- I was wondering if, um, maybe, you could, uh-"
Jack jabbed him in the ribs. "Quit stuttering," he hissed.
"I was wondering if I could skip detention that night, I could do it another night instead."
Even before Harry had finished speaking Jack knew it was a lost cause.
"Oh, no," said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. "Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."
Both Harry and Jack gritted their teeth. 'Evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories'? Fury and frustration welled up inside Jack in equal measure. This, this right here,was every child's worst nightmare. Someone in a position of power, untouchable by the rules, who refuses to listen. It was infuriating, and it made him feel helpless, and he hated it.
She watched them smugly, as if she knew what they were thinking, and wanted them to start yelling again. Just to give her a reason to punish them more. With tremendous effort, Jack and Harry forced themselves into the chairs.
"There," said Umbridge sweetly. "We're getting better at controlling our tempers already, aren't we?"
No, not really. I still feel the exact same desire to punch you. Possibly throw you out the window, can't be too hard. The temperature inched down.
"Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me. No, not with your quills," she added, as Harry and Jack bent down to open their bags. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."
That instantly roused Jack's suspicion. She handed them both long, black quills, which Jack eyed distrustfully.
"I want you to write 'I must not tell lies'." The room lost another degree.
"How many times?" Harry asked. Jack was amazed Harry could maintain his manners.
"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in." Her syrupy tone didn't falter. "Off you go."
Harry frowned, "We don't have any ink."
"Oh, you won't need ink."
Jack put the tip of the quill to the parchment and began to write. First Harry then Jack gasped in pain. Searing agony flared up on Jack's hand at the same time as the words had appeared on the paper in dark red ink. Jack looked at Harry. The ink on his paper gleamed scarlet as did the back of his hand. Blood! We're writing in our own blood!
They glared accusingly at Umbridge, "Is something wrong?" Umbridge asked sweetly. Her wide smile was what finally made Jack snap.
"Wrong?! Of course there's something wrong! We're writing in our own blood!" Jack snarled, and the temperature plummeted enough for Umbridge to shiver.
"Watch your tone, young man," Umbridge reprimanded sternly. His jaw dropped. Jack was no stranger to painful punishment, but carving into the back of your own hand for hours on end was just sadistic.
"W- watch my tone? Wha-?" Jack was so angry he could barely speak. The windows frosted over. He stood abruptly, yanking up his bag. "I'll be leaving now." He snarled. The Guardians would be hearing about this.
"Sit down!" Umbridge snapped.
"No. I will not sit here with you, you sadistic-"
Umbridge stood, flabby face flushed with rage.
"Sit down THIS INSTANT!"
Jack glared, the wind swirled around the room in icy gusts and the windows creaked with frost.
"Sit down, or I will go to The Minister."
"Dumbledore is in charge of Hogwarts, not Fudge."
"Not for much longer," She muttered, so quietly he almost missed it, "Dumbledore would never believe you." She replied, louder.
"Oh, he'd believe me."
"You have no proof," she retorted smugly.
Jack pointed at Harry, and then at the back of his own hand, only for his eyes to widen in disbelief. The cuts had healed.
"No one except Dumbledore believes Harry, and you would need ministry approval to do anything."
"I think you do believe Harry, but you're too scared to admit it. Well, I've got news for you, just because you don't believe something, because you don't want it to be true, doesn't mean it isn't happening. By being cowards you're just letting the situation get worse than it already is."
"Cease these lies!"
"Plus." Jack brandished the feathered quill and bloody parchment, "I think these are pretty good proof."
He practically dragged a stunned Harry towards the door, "If you try this with anyone else, we go to Dumbledore."
And with that, they left.
As soon as they left Umbridge's office, Jack hurried towards the owlery. Harry watched him go, stunned. He had never, ever seen someone stand up to a teacher like that. He wasn't sure if it was brave, or idiotic. Harry sighed and headed back to the Gryffindor tower. Something moved ahead of him.
"Ron?"
Ron whipped around, guiltily trying to hide his new broomstick behind him.
"I thought you had detention."
"I did. Never mind that, I'll explain later. What are you doing?"
"Er, nothing."
"Oh, come on. You can tell me." Harry coaxed.
"I - well - well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?" Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. "I - I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."
"I'm not laughing," said Harry. Ron blinked. "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"
"I'm not bad," said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry's reaction. "Charlie, Fred and George always made me keep for them when they were training during the holidays"
"Were you going to practice?" Harry asked. Ron nodded uncomfortably. "Come on."
"What?" Ron asked confused. Harry grinned.
"We're getting my broom so I can help you practice." He replied. A slow smile spread across Ron's face, and Harry's grin widened.
I can't thank all of you wonderful people who bothered to read this enough. I love hearing what you think, and those of you who take time out of your day to read this, and especially those of you who review. I'm trying to give all my stories a new chapter, so that may take a while. Those of you that read my other stories be on the look out (except the great purge one-shot and the Tunnels). Love you guys, -Lin.