Chapter 6

- Etched in Blood -

"There you go, just a sprain." Madam Pomfrey fiddled with the elastic splint she'd just conjured around Teddy's wrist. "Just make sure to keep that splint on for at least a week."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." He said, tugging down the sleeve of his robs, covering the splint. "Lucky it wasn't my writing hand, right?" The nurse smirked for a second.

"Well, I've seen you look worse. So I'm sure you'll be fine."

He walked out of the Hospital Wing and down the moving stairs. Half way down he heard someone call out his name. Arkie climbed up the steps towards him. "Teddy, is it true? You and Harry yelled at Professor Umbridge."

This was the part Teddy had been dreading, telling Arkie. "Yeah."

"Oh, Teddy." She sighed. "Why? What in that teenage brain of yours thought it was a good idea to yell at your Dark Arts professor- is that a splint?"

He tucked his hand behind his back, ignoring her last question. "You obviously haven't sat through one of her classes yet."

"Teddy-" she grabbed his wrist and he winced. Gently she pulled back the sleeve. "How'd you get this?"

"Well," he tugged his sleeve down again. "She cast a spell, knocked me over, and I sprained my wrist."

"She what?"

"Oh, and get this. That was after she, called me a half-breed, called Dad a dangerous half-breed, told me to sit down, like some dog, and she's not even letting us do magic this year!" He said, counting with his fingers. "So, yeah I yelled at her?" He spat and Arkie flinched.

"Don't get angry at me, Tedson! I was only asking."

His blinked, looking Arkie in the eye. "Sorry. I... I'm just, not in a good mood."

"It's okay, I understand. I can't believe she did all that, called you and your dad half-breeds... and what's this about not letting us use magic?"

"I know right. It's crazy!"

"But OWLs are coming up. I can't believe the Ministry! I mean, OWLs are probably the most important exam we'll ever have, they affect what job you'll have once you graduate." She huffed, heading towards the Great Hall, but noticing Teddy stopped. "Aren't you coming?"

"No. Harry and I have detention with Umbridge."

She walked back to him, putting her hand in his. "Try not to make things worse. Do you want me to wait for you outside?"

"It's okay. You go to the Great Hall, I'll join you soon." She nodded and walked off, her hand and his growing more and more distant.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hi, Ted."

"You ready?"

"Not really."

Knock. Knock.

"Come in." A sweet voice came from inside Professor Umbridge's office. Harry pushed open the door. "I'll take you first Mr Potter, you can wait outside." Teddy insides twisted at how she didn't refer to him by either his first or last name. But instead of saying anything, he nodded and sat in one of the classroom desks. The door shut behind Harry and five minutes later he walked out, looking pale. Teddy sat up straight, his eyes asking what had happened?

But before Harry could speak the Professor was calling out in a sing-song voice. "You next. Come in."

There was a creak as he stood up and trudged into her office. His eyes stung at what he saw. Over the five years of being at Hogwarts, Teddy had seen the office change multiple times.

In his first year, Professor Quirrell had decorated his office with African tribal masks, charts, animal horns, skulls and teeth, a telescope and lots of turban and cushions that were spread out across the floor. Professor Lockhart had plastered his walls with hundreds of pictures of himself, a large bottle of lilac ink and a peacock feather were placed next to a large stack of photo's he'd yet to sign.

His father, Professor Lupin's, office had been filled with bookcases containing books on all kinds of subjects, most of which could be found in their small, over-stacked library in Hogsmeade. A comfortable leather chair had been placed behind his neat desk, on which a bar of chocolate had always laid. In the corner had been a large fish bowl, inside which, for a week, had been a live Grindylow. The thought of the office once belonging to his father hurt. It was a distant, sweet memory now.

Next, Professor Moody, or otherwise known as Barty Crouch Jr, had packed his office with strange and dark instruments and artefacts, as well as a huge chest which the real Mad-Eye Moody had been trapped in.

Now the office was beyond recognition and took Teddy by surprise. The stone walls were a soft pink and covered in china plates which had pictures of moving kittens on them. The Professor's table was draped in lace and dark velvet curtains hung by the windows. The bookcases weren't filled with books, but expensive china tea sets. A little desk had been set up beside the Professor's, on it was a long sheet of parchment and a black quill.

Teddy began to wonder if it was possible to throw up inside your own body, if not he should go probably back to Madam Pomfrey.

"Sit." She hummed, sitting at her desk, a cup of tea in her manicure hands. Teddy forced himself down onto the stool. "Like Mr Potter, you'll be doing lines for me."

She motioned to the black quill. He steadily picked it up, looking around for an ink bottle.

"You won't need any ink." She explained.

"What do you want me to write?" He asked.

"You will be writing, 'I must not yell at my superiors'."

Teddy remembered what Arkie had said earlier, 'try not to make things worse'. Those words, and the memory of her concerned face, were the only things stopping him from storming out of the office.

"How many times?" He asked.

"Five, please."

Teddy's eyes wandered down to the piece of parchment. Already written on it, were the words, 'I must not tell lies', in Harry's handwriting. He'd only written it once.

'How come I have to write it five times?' He would've yelled, but instead pressed his lips together. Five times. That was it. After that he was free to go. He just had to keep his mouth shut. He glanced up. The Professor was still watching him, smiling sweetly. The black quill scratched against the dry parchment.

I. Must. Not. Yell. At. My. Superiors'.

He wrote out each word quickly, not bothering to use his normal neat handwriting. His hand, which was covered in the splint, had begun to itch uncomfortable with each word he wrote. He sniffed in discomfort but didn't think anything about it, until the itch began to hurt. For a second her dropped the quill and scratch at it, but it didn't help. So he continued writing.

By the time he had written 'I must not yell at my superiors' again he was baring his teeth in pain. His eyes glanced up at the Professor's, which were shiny brightly. Once he begun writing a third time, his nails were digging into the wood of the table.

His hand felt like it was on fire, it hadn't hurt like this before. It was no longer just an itch. He let out a small gasp as he finish the fourth line of writing and the pain had become unbearable. His back stiffened when he saw something red staining the elastic splint. Slowly he peeled it back, revealing the blood-smudged words, 'I must not yell at my superiors' carved into his hand.

"Is something wrong?" He looked up, his green eyes wide. He shut his mouth. "One more line please."

He felt sick to the stomach as he forced his shaking hand to pick up the coal black quill again. The sound of the quill on parchment was slower. He refused to make a sound, or meet Umbridge's eyes once he'd finished his last line. There was the sound of Umbridge standing up, and her heels clipping against the hard floor.

Fingers forced his chin up, so his tear filled eyes meet the shining ones of the devil that was his Dark Arts professor. "Maybe now, you will remember your place. And that you'll never be one of us."

He stood up, backing away from her, not waiting to be excused and running out of the office.