"What on earth were you thinking?" Dolores Umbridge sputtered, leading them into an abandoned classroom on the third floor. "Practicing without permission outside of Hogwarts grounds—and in the Forbidden Forest no less! Do you have any idea how many school orders you've broken?" She walked to the front of the room and tapped her wand against the palm of her hand. "Sixty-seven, that's how many. Sixty-seven." She said this with such extreme severity, that you would have thought they were convicted felons of Azkaban rather than a bunch of wizarding students.
"But, it wasn't just us!" Ron protested. "Malfoy was with us too!"
She sent him a withering glare. "Don't you dare speak back to me, Mr. Weasley. I have a mind to expel all of you—it would certainly be no less than you deserve."
"Ms. Umbridge, please—" Harry began.
"However," she continued, "since I am a kind and merciful woman—"
Harry had to elbow Ron in the ribs to keep him from snorting.
"I will let you off with detention and a day of solitary confinement. Also," she peered at Harry through her spectacles, "it is Headmistress Umbridge, Mr. Potter."
"Solitary confinement?!" Fred and George exclaimed in unison. "But Professor Dumbledore got rid of all those medieval punishments when he became headmaster!"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You would do well to remember that I am your headmistress now, and therefore, my word is law. You will accept my choice of punishment, unless you would rather be expelled."
All of their grumbling was immediately silenced. "Well then," she said briskly, "we will start your detention. Today you will be writing lines for me. I would like you all to write this a hundred times."
She tapped her wand against the blackboard, and the words, "I am sorry for breaking the rules" appeared in very prim looking cursive.
She handed out pieces of paper and gray quill pens.
"Um, excuse me, Headmistress Umbridge?" Parvati Patil raised her hand tentatively. "You didn't give us any ink."
"Oh, you won't need any," she answered with a malicious smile.
Harry's felt his stomach drop. His worst fears were confirmed. He had had detention with Umbridge before, so he knew the trick. "Brace yourselves," he muttered under his breath. "The pen's enchanted. It scratches onto your hand whatever you write down."
Everyone's faces blanched, but they all gripped their pens bravely and started writing. Harry joined them, the pain every bit as intense as he remembered. He could bear it, he only wished that he could've somehow protected his friends. But when he stole a glance at the others to see how they were doing, his chest swelled with pride. Although their jaws were set with pain and many had tears in their eyes, not one of them made a sound or even allowed themselves to grimace.
By the time they finished, their hands were throbbing fiercely, but they felt as though they had won. They smiled triumphantly at Umbridge, who looked a bit deflated that they had managed to take the fun out of her little game.
"Well then," she sniffed as she collected their papers, "I hope that this exercise engraved that line into your minds just as it was engraved it into your hands. You will now undergo solitary confinement in this room. I will come back and release you when twenty-four hours have passed."
And with that, she swept out of the room, locking the door behind her. Ron didn't waste a moment in pulling out his wand and pointing it at the doorknob.
"Ron, wait—" Hermione began.
"Aloharma!"
There was a strangle sizzling noise as a blue spurt of light came out of his wand and he was thrown backwards onto the floor.
"Ron!" Hermione ran to his side. "Are you alright?"
"Ouch!" Ron rubbed his backside. He looked at his wand, which had smoke coming out of one end. "What bloody happened?"
"I was trying to tell you," Hermione said, her concern quickly turning into exasperation, "that Umbridge cast an enchantment on this room. In other words, we can't use magic."
"So, what do we then?" Ron asked grumpily.
"We should just sit and wait it out," Harry said. "I know that it stinks, but it could be worse. At least we weren't all expell—ouch!" He clamped his hand to his scar, doubling over as sharp pain blurred his vision and took his breath away.
Suddenly he was seeing the same door from his dreams. He could hear low voices whispering to each other and a shrill, cackling laugh. There were shady figures flitting around in dark cloaks. Death Eaters. Voldemort was there too, his ghoul-like face sending shivers up the back of Harry's neck. And kneeling in the middle of it all, his hands tied and his face bloodied, was a familiar face that made his stomach lurch. Sirius.