Chapter Two: First Day Detentions

The first day of classes always ends up being the worst day of the year. After spending a whole summer of getting up after noon, waking up for breakfast seemed almost impossible. I sprinted down to breakfast with less than ten minutes left, throwing my hair up in a messy bun on my way down. Running late is probably one of my biggest issues in school, besides a general lack of effort or care – but my first class of the day was DADA with that putrid woman and she seems like she kills Muggle babies in her free time.

Before I could even throw myself down into the seat, I was shoveling a slice of toast into my mouth. I held back the moan that was trying to release itself from my throat, enjoying the first bite of food entirely too much.

"Looking as lovely as ever," Fred mocked, eyeing me up and down.

"Arse," I grumbled through a mouthful of food whilst shoveling more onto my plate.

"And such a lady," George continued with a sarcastic grin.

There were few things that I hated more than mornings, the biggest being the feeling of hunger. Most of my mornings consisted of an internal battle between my growling stomach and my desire to stay in bed – food always won eventually. This usually led to a half-tucked uniform, missing school cloak, and an untied tie, much like this morning.

"You are not walking into Umbridge's class with me while you look like that," Katie grimaced from her seat across from me, glancing up at the putrid woman at the front table, "I reckon she might be absolutely dreadful."

Little did she know how right she would be.

We entered the class to the words, Defense Against the Dark Arts: Relearning Basic Principles, on the board. Katie and I saw them at the same time, looking at each other with pure disgust.

"Relearning?" She whispered in confusion as we took the table in front of Essie and another Slytherin girl.

"'Ello snakes," I smiled at the two, tipping my fake hat towards them.

"You should really fix your hair sometime," Essie said while rolling her eyes at the rat nest on my head.

"Aye Cress, I could," I shrugged, "But mum and dad might start liking me more than you."

Before she could respond, Umbridge let out the most grotesque sounding 'hem, hem' and the class fell into silence. With a tap of her wand, a list of Course Aims were scribbled onto the board in flawless cursive.

It wasn't long before I was completely distracted by the moving pictures of cats, yes cats, that she had placed around the room. In their sickly pink frames, they rolled around and played with nothing, letting out small meows or purrs every so often. Honestly, it was one of the –

"Did you not hear me, dear?" Umbridge snapped, breaking me out of my trance. I hardly noticed that she was about three inches from my face, close enough where I could smell her gnarly floral perfume. "And what is your name?"

"Sorry, no," I said with a tight smile, trying to hold back the face of sarcasm that was begging to be let loose, "Cassiopeia Blythe."

"Tsk, tsk," she replied in a dismissive tone, "This goes for the whole class. When you respond to me, I expect a 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. Anything less will be taken as full disrespect to my authority at this school and with the Ministry."

She started down at me with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, waiting for me to acknowledge her yet again. "No, Professor Umbridge, I missed what you said," It took everything in my power to hold back my absolute disgust of the woman.

This seemed to satisfy her enough and she walked back to her spot at the front of the class. From my seat, I could feel my ears burn in anger as my hands unconsciously balled up into fists. Disrespect to her authority at this school and the Ministry? I don't give a flying fuck about her authority at the Ministry – or at this school, for that matter.

"For those who weren't listening," Umbridge stated pointedly, "I will repeat. Everyone is to take out their books and we will be reading Chapter 1 and 2 of Advanced Defensive Theory until the end of class. If you don't finish, you will continue in our next session. There will be no talking."

"Will we be practicing the spells or just reading about them?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. I felt Essie kick my chair from behind, her signal to shut the fuck up.

"If you wish to speak in my class, students must raise their hands," Umbridge snapped, "But, if you must ask, there will be no need for students to be using spells in my classroom this year."

Soft muttering rang through the classroom and my hand shot up before I could stop myself. Umbridge let out her all-too-familiar 'hem-hem' bringing the class to silence before she looked over at me with a look of annoyance hidden behind a fake smile. "Yes, Ms. Blythe?"

"Quite frankly, Professor Umbridge," I started, holding back my rage, "we have our NEWTs next year. We're supposed to be learning nonverbals and we can't learn them if we don't –"

"In my classroom, you will be learning defensive skills how I see fit, Ms. Blythe," she stated, raising her voice to a small yell whilst still keeping her sickly-sweet tone, "I am a Ministry-trained educational expert. You will learn defensive theory how the Ministry sees fit. To question my methods is to question the Ministry as a whole. Now are you questioning the Ministry, my dear?"

She looked down on me with wide cow-like eyes, they looked like they were about to bulge out of her head. I grumbled out a quiet, "No, Professor Umbridge," and reluctantly threw my book open to Chapter 1.

The grin of satisfaction that spread across her face made me want to punch something. The only act of rebellion I could think of in the moment was to not read a single word. This led to me glaring down Professor Umbridge undisturbed for over a half hour.

The only thing to bring me back to reality was a small piece of folded parchment that landed neatly on the pages of open, untouched book.

I quietly unfolded the note to reveal a familiar looking scribble, 'If you don't close that mouth of yours, you're going to start drooling. And it might be better for your marks if you kept it shut'.

At the table across from me, Cormac McLaggen was smirking in my direction. I held back a laugh and opted for a subtle wink instead. Cormac and I had been seeing each other on and off for years now. 'Seeing' probably isn't the right word for it. 'Shagging in alcoves every so often' is probably a better term for it.

With a smile, I scribbled under his words, 'Don't even play with me. You know you love it when I open my mouth because talking back isn't the only thing I'm good at'. If I'm stuck in this hell classroom, I might as well have some fun teasing the male population while I'm at it.

I went to toss the note back over, only to have it disappear midair with a pop. I groaned in horror, already knowing where it went. The whole class, obviously as bored as I was, was watching Umbridge read my note with a look of horror on her face. Oh, come on. It wasn't that scandalous, you can't tell me she's a virgin. Well, maybe –

"Ms. Blythe, what is this?" She said, rising from her seat and staring me down.

I grimaced and let out a sigh, "Sorry, Professor Umbridge."

"That just cost you two days of detention," she retorted, "And it will double if you don't tell me who the note was from."

I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms, giving only a small shrug in response. I might be many things, but I'm not a snitch. "I don't know, Professor Umbridge."

"That's a week of detention, Ms. Blythe, and twenty points from Gryffindor," she said pointedly and, with a silent wave of her wand, the note burst into flames and disintegrated onto the floor. Now, if only she could teach us how to do that and I'd be happy. "My office, seven o'clock."

I was filled with blind rage for the next half hour, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails probably pierced the skin of my palms. The second we were dismissed, I basically sprinted out the door. Much to my chagrin, I only made it a few feet before my name was being called.

"What?" I snapped, a little too forcefully.

"I just want you to know, the Slytherins have been talking about Professor Umbridge a lot," Essie said. "She's not someone you want to mess with."

"We'll see about that," I said, coming out as more of a pout than anything, "Who the bloody hell does she think she is? Not letting us do magic in a school for magic! That's some of the biggest–"

"She was placed here by the Ministry. She has every right to be here," Essie stated pointedly. "Mum and dad work for–"

"Let's drop the pompous Slytherin act now, shall we?" I scowled, cutting her off before she could spew out any more bullshit.

Before she could respond, I turned on my heels and ran to catch up to Katie and Cormac on their way back to the Tower. "What a load of horse cock that was, am I right lads?"

"You can't be doing that with Umbridge," Katie sighed, "She's obviously here for the Ministry to control the school and spy on Dumbledore."

"Thank you, by the way," Cormac smiled, throwing his arm around my shoulders for a side hug, "You know I'll make it up to you."

"A week of detention within the first half hour of classes," Katie laughed absently, "Fred and George will be so proud."


The rest of the day was exceptionally average compared to the morning I experienced. Professor Grubbly-Plank was a phenomenal teacher compared to the putrid pink woman. Surprising, the gossip about my little spat was miniscule compared to the apparent screaming match she had with Potter. I'll have to give that boy a pat on the back when I see him.

Instead of heading to dinner before my detention, I opted to grab some food from the kitchens and spend my evening boosting my mood – watching the twins violate first years with their Skiving Snackboxes.

Left and right, tiny eleven- year-olds were falling out of their seats unconscious or running to the bathrooms with unstoppable nosebleeds. I almost felt bad for them at some points, but at least they didn't have to spend a week with Umbridge in detention.

"I reckon if you bring one of these with you," Fred said, sitting beside me on the couch and handing me a small purple sweet, "you'll be out of there in less than five minutes."

"But darling, if I did that, I wouldn't get my full hour to glare at that putrid woman in pure hatred," I pouted, looking up at him innocently. "How else am I going to get the time to plot my revenge?"

Fred let out a booming laugh and ruffled my already messed up hair, "If you need help with that, you know I've always got your back, Cass."

I gave him a small smile and got up to head down for my detention. As I was leaving the portrait, I saw Harry and his friends walking up.

When I caught his eye, I threw him a sarcastic salute, "Harry Potter, I applaud you for your service."

He let out a polite chuckle, obviously not in the mood. "I heard you got into a spat with her too?"

"On my way to detention right now," I said with an eye roll, "See ya later, Potter and friends."

I walked down a bit before I heard a quiet, "She does know our names, right?", from Ron. That brought a small smile to my face, although it quickly disappeared once I reached the office.

I thought the pictures in the classroom were bad, but no – this office was hell. Each wall was lined with cat pictures. Cats rolling around, cats in costumes, pink cats, cats, cats, cats. I don't think I've ever wanted to gag from just looking at a room before.

"Have a seat, Ms. Blythe," Umbridge said, sounding more than happy, "You will be doing lines for me today."

I took a seat at the table, a stack of parchment and a black quill laid out in front of me. "There's no ink," I stated matter-of-factly, holding back my disgust in being here.

"Oh, this is a special quill. You won't need it," she responded with a chuckle that made me want to stab her eyes out, "You will be writing 'I will not talk back'."

"Professor Umbridge, quite frankly, I didn't talk back – "

"Tsk, tsk. That sounds like you're talking back," Umbridge said, "Would you rather write, 'I must not be a whore'? If that note was any indication of who you are as a student and as a woman, I'm sure your parent would not be very pleased."

A whore? Did my professor really just call me a whore? It took everything in me to not blow up at her, I could feel my vision go blurry with rage.

My lack of response seemed to please her, because her face contorted into a wide smile and said, "Very well. You will be writing lines saying, 'I must not be a whore', until I say you can stop."

Holding myself back with every ounce of my mortal being, I picked up the quill and pressed it on the parchment. From my peripheral vision, I could see her watching her intently with a crooked smile on her face.

The quill, despite the lack of ink, glided smoothly across the parchment in deep red ink. I only got through half the first line before I dropped the quill in pain. I stared in shock as the words I just wrote on the parchment had been cut into the back of my opposite hand. 'I must not be' was etched into my skin in my own handwriting.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Blythe?" Umbridge said in a psychopathic tone.

"No," I snapped, biting my lip as I picked up the quill and finished the line.

I held back tears as each word I wrote tore through my skin like a dull knife, only getting deeper with every line. I refused to let her see my pain and let my mind go numb with anger, thinking off all the ways I could murder this woman right now. I could use the Imperius Curse and make her do this to herself or I could use the Cruciatus Curse and torture her in my own way or we can just Avada the shit out of this bint. All three options are looking fine, but number three was just calling my name.

I don't know how long I sat there, writing lines and thinking of all the different ways I could ruin her life, but it was close to dark when she finally dismissed me. I made sure to slowly leave the office and keep my face void of any emotion. I gave her a curt nod before exiting and quietly shut the door behind me.

I made it down the hall before the tears started pouring down my face, more from anger and frustration than from pain. Although, Merlin, did that hurt. I don't know how long I spent sitting in the empty corridor trying to get the tears to stop. Buck the fuck up, Cassiopeia. This is not who you are. You don't sit in hallways crying over teachers.

"Cassie?" I heard my name echo through the dark hallway.

I quickly jumped up from my position on the floor and wiped away my tears. It was only then I realized how late it must be, as it was pitch black outside and the hallways had been empty for a while. "Hi Fred," I said, trying to muster up a smile, "Kitchen run, I see?"

He ignored my question as his face contorted into a look of concern, looking me up and down for any noticeable injuries or problems. Probably because the only time they've seen me cry was from broken ribs during Quidditch. "What happened? What did she do to you?"

I stuck my hands behind my back casually, wishing that I had remembered to wear my cloak. "Nothing, it's fine," I said dismissively, "Just a bad day."

"Oh, Cass, you don't have to lie to me," he said knowingly, bring his hand up to wipe a stray tear from my cheek.

"I promise, it's nothing you have to worry about," I sighed, shaking my head and just hoped he'd give it up.

Instead of responding, he just threw his arms around me in a hug and petted my hair softly, which was probably in a disgusting mess by now. I stood frozen for a second, not really expecting the sudden attack of comfort, before wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning into him.

When I was least expecting it, he quickly pulled out of the hug and grabbed both of my wrists, pulling them in front of him. "Now, little missy, what are you – "

Fred stared down blankly at my right hand, the words, 'I must not be a whore', carved into it in my messy handwriting. I don't know how long he stood there, holding my wrist in silence. I knew there was no hope in trying to pull away, as I felt his grip tighten as the look on his face turned into one of rage. It was a look that nobody had seen on either of the twins, aside from lost Quidditch matches against Slytherin.

I almost burst into tears again when his eyes finally reached mine. I don't even know why I wanted to cry. It hardly hurt anymore besides a mild sting and it had even started to fade. It was now a light pink color as opposed to the raw red it was when I left. All angry thoughts still swirled in the back of my head, but that wasn't it either. Self-pity, maybe? Merlin, maybe I'm just a bitch.

"She did this to you?" Fred demanded, finally breaking our silence. "How?"

"Lines," I said, feeling the tears involuntarily start to fall again, "She had this quill… it uses… your own blood to write, I think."

"What the fuck, Cassie!" Fred yelled, obviously not caring that it was far past curfew. "That is not okay! I'm telling my dad or you have to tell your dad – or… or just someone at the Ministry!"

"No," I said, shaking my head again, "She's with the Ministry. It's fine. I can handle this. You can't tell anyone about this. Please, Fred."

Fred continued to stare at my hand in anger before he finally let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. He once again threw his arms around me in a hug, seemingly to calm himself down more than me. It was a few more minutes of me silently crying into his itchy sweater before we started to walk back to the common room slowly.

"I'll get her back for you," Fred stated determinedly, "even if it's the last thing I do at this school."