Chapter Six: In Which Teachers Are Attacked
"You haven't given me any ink," he said.
"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies.
He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.
"Yes?"
"Nothing," said Harry quietly.
Rage shot through his body; Umbridge was making him write in his own blood and carving the words in his hand. There was no way he was going to keep his head down.
You know what they say — once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.
He drew his wand swiftly. Years of looking over his shoulder and fighting for his life had done wonders for his speed.
"Hermione?" said Harry tentatively.
He had run from Umbridge's office to where he thought Hermione would be.
"Oh, are you back from detention already? That's unexpected," she said brightly.
"Er — about that . . ."
"What did you do?" she asked suspiciously.
"I sorta —"
"Yes?"
"Kinda —"
"Spit it out, Harry."
"Knocked her unconscious."
"That's great news!" exclaimed Hermione.
"It is?"
"Of course! Now you can help me knit some hats for the house elves!" said Hermione, beaming at him. "I'm kidding. Where did you put her?"
"Uh — she is still in the DADA teachers office where the detention was held."
"Let's go then!"
They ran all the was to Umbridge's office.
"I don't think you mentioned the fact that she hit her head on the wall," said Hermione.
"I did not consider that relevant."
"Obviously," she said dryly.
Hermione and Harry stared at the prone form of the most hated DADA teacher ever. Or she would have become, if Harry hadn't done what he had done.
Their next destination? The Headmaster's office, of course.
"Yes?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.
"I Stunned a teacher," confessed Harry.
"Hmmm."
"She was wearing pink clothes."
"Ah, I understand how that might have provoked you, Harry. Happens to the best of us. Indeed, only yesterday was I telling Professor McGonagall about the strange effect semi colons seem to create in young readers."
"Actually I —"
"I completely sympathise, Harry. There is no need to explain yourself."
"She might have a concussion, Headmaster," said Hermione worriedly.
"Most unfortunate. I will be handling the situation. . . . Right after I visit the bathroom, of course. It seems old age is finally getting to me."
AN: Bwah ha ha ha ha ha! Seriously, Harry doesn't shut his mouth in class but silently endures hand-carving-quills? No thank you, woman-who-barely-classifies-as-a-woman.
In some situations, being reckless is the only way. Sitting and getting tortured is definitely not the way to go. Look out, Wizarding World, because Harry Potter is not sitting with hands tied! Or carved, but you know what I mean!
I'm sure every single Potterhead wants to read something where Harry gets his comeuppance in the whole Umbridge situation. Canon was very disappointing in this aspect.