I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

Writing Lines with Blood

Charlie tried to focus on her reading, but the whispers of her surrounding peers intruded upon her concentration. Word of her stand-off with Umbridge had spread through the student body like wild fire, and the amount of looks she was getting increased.

"I don't get it," she muttered, pulling Hermione and Harry from their homework. "I get that Skeeter's slander and Fudge's influence would make some difference in how people view me, but everyone? Has everything I've ever done and fought for the past few years completely escaped them?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but you have to think of how you looked two months ago. You just appeared out of thin air, holding Angelina's body. No one knew what happened in the maze. For two months after the whole incident, everyone was getting Skeeter's articles shoved at them."

"How quickly opinions change," sighed Charlie. She glanced at the windows, which were being pounded on by rain. "If my first day is any indication of how the year is going to turn out, then I'm in trouble."

"You just have to be positive," said Harry optimistically.

"Hard for her to be positive with Umbridge teaching us," said Hermione scathingly. "I don't know what Dumbledore is playing at. She's horrible!"

"I noticed," the bespectacled boy said. "But what choice did he have? Everyone thinks the position is cursed. Look what happened to the others. Fudge probably forced Umbridge onto him."

Before Hermione could respond, Ron hurried into the library, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized, dropping down into the chair beside Harry.

"What kept you?" questioned Hermione.

"Er…just my brothers."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What exactly were your brothers doing?"

Ron sighed. "Nothing, okay?"

"It's got to do with testing their products, doesn't it?" said Hermione accusingly. "Ron, you have to do something about them!"

"It was just Fainting Fancies!" protested the redhead. "They weren't hurt. They were revived almost instantly. It was kind of funny, seeing their expressions when they woke up."

Hermione scowled. "What if something goes wrong? What if they made a mistake when putting the ingredients together? It's going to fall on your head!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, my head. So don't worry about it."

"How can I not? What if some Ravenclaws hear about it and sign up for testing? What if they get those things and start handing them out?"

"Then you can deal with it," replied Ron.

The bushy-haired girl whirled around to face the two watching their exchange in amusement. "Help me out!" she snapped.

Charlie help up her hands. "Hey, I'm not a prefect."

"Come on, Hermione. They need to test these products to get their shop going," said Harry. "You know the twins. I'm sure they're really careful with what they're doing."

"Honestly!" huffed Hermione. "Fine. Ron, if you won't say anything, I will! I'll let them know at breakfast tomorrow that if they don't stop testing their products on other students, I'm going to write a letter to your mother."

Ron gaped. "That's a low blow!"

"That's why it will work," said Hermione confidently.

Charlie shook her head and tried to get back to work. But her right temple throbbed with pain and she couldn't concentrate. "I got three-quarters of this stuff done. I'm going to bed."

"I'll come with you," said Hermione, and the two girls started packing away their things.

"But I just got here!" complained Ron. "Who's going to help me?"

Harry frowned. "I can help! I've done more than you have."

Ron thought about this. "Fair point. Okay, you girls can go."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, thanks a lot," she said sarcastically. "See you tomorrow."

The Ravenclaws walked out of the library and down the corridors. They reached Ravenclaw Tower and Hermione answered the riddle to get inside. Charlie was relieved to find the common room empty. She was about to head to her dorm when she noticed Hermione wasn't following. Glancing over her shoulder, she stared in bewilderment as the girl dug out woollen articles of clothing out of her bag and set them on the table, hiding them under pieces of parchment.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving hats for the house-elves."

Charlie crossed her arms. "I thought we talked about this. S.P.E.W is great and all, but not when you're forcing them to be free."

"I'm not forcing anything," said Hermione snippily. "They want to be free. They just don't know it."

Satisfied with her work, she went past Charlie and skipped up the stairs. Shaking her head, the raven-haired girl went over to the table and swept the rubbish aside so that the house-elves would not be tricked into doing something they may not have wanted.

Great. Now I'm on guard duty to make sure Hermione doesn't go S.P.E.W crazy. Just what I need to add my ever-growing list of things to keep an eye out for.

…

The following day, Charlie and Hermione had double Charms followed by double Transfiguration, with Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology after lunch. They ate breakfast to fuel their energy for the long school day and Hermione took a quick break to approach the twins at the Gryffindor table and give them her threat.

"They aren't happy," she reported once she rejoined Charlie at the Ravenclaw table. "They tried to make the argument that what they did was none of my business, but I said that just because I'm a Ravenclaw prefect doesn't mean they don't have to listen to me. But they wouldn't take me seriously, so I told them if they kept testing on other students, I would write a letter to their mother."

"Bet they liked that one," said Charlie. "Did Ron say anything?"

Hermione snorted. "No. He wouldn't even look in our direction as I was talking to them."

They met up with their redheaded friend in Charms class. They grabbed their usual seats and Ron shot Hermione an annoyed look. "Thanks a lot. Now Fred and George are calling me a fink."

"It's for their own good, as well as for the good of the students," she said dismissively. "If they want to test those things out on themselves, fine. But they're not going to take advantage of unsuspecting students."

Flitwick started the class, and after a long lecture on the importance of O.W.L.s, set them to work on Summoning Charms. Charlie, who was pretty much an expert thanks to her intense practicing for the Triwizard Tournament last year, lazily gave a few attempts.

"Never mind thinking about future careers," she muttered to Ron. "Right now, I'm not even sure if I'm going to live long enough to even snag an interview."

Ron shook his head. "You have a great outlook on life, you know that?"

"What? I'm just saying."

After Charms, they shuffled over to Transfiguration, where they were given another O.W.L. lecture by McGonagall.

"This is a lot of pressure," muttered Ron, trying in vain to perform the Vanishing Spell correctly but to no avail. "I can't handle it."

"Relax," soothed Charlie. "Just follow my lead."

She gave her wand the proper flick and recited the spell. The snail resting in front of her instantly vanished. McGonagall noticed and nodded in approval. "Ten points to Ravenclaw."

Ron attempted to copy Charlie's actions, but nothing happened. "That's not fair," he muttered.

"Just keep practicing it and you'll get it in no time," advised Hermione.

Coincidentally, that happened to be their homework, to practice the Vanishing Spell until they got it.

"I'm drowning in homework," moaned Ron as they left the classroom.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Weren't you and Harry supposed to be doing your homework last night?"

The redhead snorted. "You left us alone. That hardly tends to go well."

"Unbelievable," sighed Hermione.

They met up with Harry after lunch and reached Hagrid's hut for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson and found Grubbly-Plank standing ten feet away, by a long table loaded with twigs. Draco and Pansy arrived soon after they did with their group of Slytherins. All were laughing loudly.

Charlie rolled her green eyes. "I wonder what they're laughing at," she said sarcastically.

"Don't let them get to you," said Hermione firmly.

Once everyone in the class was there, Grubbly-Plank started the lesson. "Let's get right to it, then. Who can tell me what these are?"

Hermione shot her hand into the air. Draco did an unflattering imitation of the bushy-haired girl that caused Pansy to laugh loudly. Her high-pitched cackle caused the twigs to jump up, revealing themselves to be wooden pixie-like creatures.

"Quiet down, now," said Grubbly-Plank sharply. She sprinkled what looked to be brown rice over the twigs, causing them to settle. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"They're Bowtruckles. They're tree guardians and usually live in wand-trees."

Grubbly-Plank nodded. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Anyone know what they eat?"

"Woodlice and fairy eggs, if they can get them," answered Hermione promptly.

"Very good, another five points. Whenever you need wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to bring them a gift. If they are angered, they can easily gouge a human's eyes out. Come closer, take some woodlice and a Bowtruckle. There's enough here for one to be shared between three. I want a sketch with all body parts labelled by the end of the lesson."

As the class surged for the table, Charlie skirted around the crowd so that she ended up beside Grubbly-Plank. "So…do you know where Hagrid is?" she asked, unable to dispel her curiosity.

"Never you mind," returned Grubbly-Plank, and Charlie sighed, though she didn't think she would get a straight answer anyway.

Draco leaned past her to get to a Bowtruckle. "Perhaps the big oaf has gone and done something stupid," he said lowly. "Gone and messing with something that's a bit too big for him."

Unable to hide her surprise, her green eyes widened. Draco smirked in triumph before going over to join his group. Charlie hastily went over to Ron, Hermione and Harry, who were trying to sketch the fidgeting Bowtruckle. She relayed to them in a whisper what Draco had told her.

"Dumbledore would know before anyone," said Hermione instantly. "He's just blowing hot air. Here, Charlie, hold him so that we can get a clean sketch."

She scooped up the Bowtruckle. "Come on, can't you sit still for just a moment?" she asked, picking up a pinch of woodlice from the pile her friends had made in the grass. She offered it to the Bowtruckle, who ate it before going still. "Thank you."

"I don't know how she does it," muttered Ron, rushing to sketch the creature's head.

"Father was talking to the Minister a few days ago, and he seems really determined to crack down on the substandard teaching this place has," said Draco in a loud voice, so that it carried over to the Golden Quartet. "I suspect that the large moron will be sent packing if he ever comes back."

Charlie took a deep breath to keep calm and stared at the Bowtruckle. "He's a jerk," she informed, and could have sworn that the tree guardian gave a solemn nod in return.

The bell rang just as Charlie finished her sketch of the Bowtruckle. "Thank you for being so cooperative," she said gratefully. The Bowtruckle gave a nod before rushing off to join its friends. Charlie handed in her work and followed after her friends.

"If he calls Hagrid any more names, I'm gonna hex him," growled Ron.

Hermione frowned. "You're a prefect! You can't do that!"

"Well. I can dream, can't I?"

The redhead soon left them, strolling to the castle as the other three went over to the greenhouses for Herbology. They met with a crowd of fourth-years spilling out from the nearest greenhouse to Hagrid's hut and Ginny and Luna spotted them.

"Hi!" said Ginny cheerfully as she walked by.

Luna paused and stared at Charlie seriously. "I believe you. I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back and that you fought him."

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck. "Thanks," she said, trying to take her eyes off the girl's orange radish earrings. A few of the surrounding students were laughing at the odd fashion choice, though Luna mistook their laughter to be at something else.

"Don't listen to them," she said. "People laughed at the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, thinking they didn't exist."

"They don't," said Hermione in annoyance.

Luna shot the bushy-haired girl a look before sauntering away. Charlie shook her head. "Please try not to offend the few people that believe me."

Hermione snorted. "Oh, please. You can do much better than her."

Before they could move much farther, Ernie Macmillan stopped in front of them. "You have more than just weirdos believing in you," he said loudly. "I believe you too, Charlotte. My family has always stood behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

"I don't think Luna is a weirdo, but thank you, Ernie. That means a lot to me," she said with gratitude.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry felt the need to add, casting his fellow Hufflepuff a grateful smile.

The three entered their designated greenhouse and the class started with yet another O.W.L lecture. After a gruelling lesson, they were assigned another essay. Sighing heavily, an exhausted Charlie trooped up to the castle and into the Great Hall. She didn't have time to drop off her bag, as her detention with Umbridge was at five.

"Um…Charlie?"

The girl glanced up from her plate to see Eliza standing above her. "Hey, Eliza. What's up?"

The girl pulled at her long white-blonde hair nervously. "I heard you have detention at five on Friday."

"Yeah. It's—oh. Shoot. The Quidditch tryouts." Charlie closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay! I mean, I heard why you got detention, and I think it was really good of you to stand up for Angelina's memory like that. But…if it's possible, could you see if you could get Friday off? I think it's really important to have the whole team together."

"I'll see what I can do," promised Charlie, though she didn't have high hopes. Eliza smiled in relief and went back to join her friends on the other side of the table.

Soon it came time to leave for detention, and she ate the last of her mashed potatoes before leaving the Great Hall. She went up to Umbridge's office on the third floor and gave a short knock.

"Come in!" a sweet voice called.

Charlie nudged the door open and peered inside. She had been in this office for three of its previous occupants. Gilderoy Lockhart had his office decorated with self-portraits, Remus often had a Dark Creature residing in a tank or cage and Crouch Jr, posing as Moody, had a collection of devices that detected wrongdoings.

She much preferred all three of their interior decorating styles combined compared to Umbridge's.

Flowers were everywhere, lacy cloths covered every surface and there were so many ornamental plates depicting cats wearing bows hanging on the walls.

Pink. Too much pink.

Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, dressed in flowered robes. "Good evening, Miss Potter."

"Good evening, Professor," she returned, trying to stay polite.

Umbridge pointed to a chair situated behind a small table. "Sit there, please."

She ventured inside and took the seat. "Um…I was wondering if I could ask…a favour."

Umbridge raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and we have practice for a new Keeper on Friday. I was wondering if I could skip detention that evening and make it up with another one."

Umbridge smiled widely. "No, no, I'm afraid not. Detention is your punishment for spreading nasty stories full of lies and deceit and scaring your peers for no reason. Perhaps this will teach you not to go around spewing tall tales."

A simple no would have sufficed, lady.

"Right."

"Ah, good. You're learning already. Now, you're going to be writing some lines for me." Charlie reached into her bag for her quill but Umbridge stopped her. "No, no, not with yours. With mine."

Charlie took the long black quill with a sharp point. "What do I write?"

"I must not tell lies," she answered softly.

Ugh. Okay. Fine. Calm and serenity, Potter.

"How many times?"

"As long it takes for the message to really sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Go on."

Charlie raised the quill over the already-provided parchment. Then she realized something. "You haven't given me any ink."

"You won't need any."

Blinking, she shrugged and started to write the first line—I must not tell lies.

A soft gasp escaped her as her hand throbbed with pain. She stared at the words she had written, which stood out on the parchment in a ruby red colour. She glanced at her hand, where the exact same words were engraved into her skin. But they soon healed, leaving behind red cut marks.

She slowly glanced up. Umbridge was watching her with a smile that was so sugary sweet it was almost sinister. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all," she said, and continued to write. Her hand seared with pain with every line, the cuts reopening and healing over in a continuous process. Her stomach churned as she wrote, knowing that her blood was being used as the ink.

You are sick, lady. Sick sick sick.

Soon she fell into a rhythm, hardly paying attention to what she was doing anymore. The pain was horrible, but she refused to show any signs of weakness. After what seemed like hours, Umbridge said, "Come over here."

Charlie stood up and stiffly walked over, knowing very well it was not her lines the woman wanted to look at. She held out her hand and Umbridge inspected it. The words were no longer there, but the skin was red, raw and stinging madly.

"Not much of an impression yet. We'll try again tomorrow evening," she said with a smile. "Have a good night, Miss Potter."

She nodded once, grabbed her bag and left. The corridors were empty, and she knew it was well past midnight. She doubted she would be getting any homework done, as she was exhausted and her writing hand was hurting like mad.

She glanced at the injured appendage. She knew by the end of her detentions; the words would be left permanently imprinted in her skin in ugly marks.

Screw it, she thought in defeat. What's one more scar?

…

The following morning found her scrambling to add a few more entries to her dream journal for Trelawney. She met with Ron and Harry in the classroom and she dropped down on her cushion.

"How was your detention?" asked Ron.

"Fine," she replied, not wanting to go into details.

"What she'd make you do?" asked Harry.

"Lines."

"Oh, well, that's not so bad," said the redhead.

Charlie fought back a snort. You've no idea.

The day did not go extremely well. More homework was piled onto their heads and she had to break the news to Eliza that she would be missing the tryouts. Though disappointed, she understood.

The second detention was no easier than the first. The pain seemed to get worse, and she channelled most of her efforts into trying to keep the pain to herself, not wanting Harry to experience it and start to get suspicious. The skin on her hand was starting to get inflamed and irritated.

The detentions ran late, and she found herself staying up until the early hours of the morning finishing her mountain of homework. Due to not getting any sleep, she stumbled through Thursday in tired haze, hardly recalling anything that happened. Soon she found herself in her third detention with Umbridge.

After two hours, she noticed that the cuts were no longer healing. They remained, oozing droplets of blood. Umbridge instantly picked up on the pause and moved over to examine her hand. "Ah, yes, it's starting to make an impression. This will do for tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

Charlie grabbed her bag and left the office, a scowl on her face. She's evil. She's evil, she's twisted, she's a nasty—

Her angry thoughts immediately halted when she came upon Ron hiding behind a statue. Her eyebrow arched. "Ron?"

The boy jumped and whirled around. "Charlie?"

"Um…what are you doing?"

Ron's eyes darted from side to side. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on. There's a reason you're out here so late with your broomstick."

The redhead stared at his Cleansweep Eleven, the reward his mother had bought him for being a prefect. "I was going outside to practice. I was just checking to see if the coast was clear. I didn't hear you coming."

Charlie smiled in realization. "Are you going to try out to be the new Gryffindor Keeper?"

He turned red. "Yes. I probably don't stand a chance—"

"I'm sure you'll do brilliantly," interrupted Charlie. "That's awesome! I wish I could be there to see it."

Relieved that she wasn't laughing at him, he smiled. "Yeah, me too."

"How long have you been practicing?"

"I've been sneaking out every night since Tuesday. I've been bewitching Quaffles to fly after me but it isn't easy." He then got good look at his friend's right hand. "Hey, what's that on your hand?"

"Just a cut, nothing—"

But Ron snagged her arm and extended it so that he got a clear view. He stared at the words for a moment before releasing her, looking as if he was going to be sick. "You said she was giving you lines."

Charlie bit her lip. "She is. It's just the quill I write with uses my blood as ink and etches the words into my skin."

"That's disgusting! You need to tell someone! Go to Flitwick!"

Charlie shook her head. "I'm not going to tell anyone. Umbridge has been put here to spy for Mr. Fudge and I'm not going to risk having a professor tell her off and get in trouble."

"Then tell Dumbledore!"

"He's busy," she said, though it wasn't the true reason for not telling the Headmaster. "It's fine, Ron. I've faced worse in my life. I'll see you tomorrow!"

She hurried down the corridor, leaving behind a concerned and disturbed redhead.

…

Friday arrived, as wet and dreary as the rest of the week. Charlie wasn't looking forwards to her final detention with Umbridge (though she felt 'final' was being a bit presumptuous) and wished she could watch Ron's tryout and be with her Ravenclaw teammates to see who their new member would be.

"Charlie! Charlie, wake up!"

Startled from her slumber, Charlie jolted awake, her knee slamming hard into the underside of the table. She hissed in pain, ignoring the glances nearby Ravenclaws threw at her, she twisted around, rubbing madly at her throbbing knee. "Ow ow ow ow ow."

"Sorry!" said Hermione. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay." Charlie rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear the haze from her vision. "How long was I out?"

"Almost twenty minutes. You have to leave for detention soon." Hermione's eyes were lit with worry. "You haven't eaten anything yet."

"Not hungry," she muttered, keeping her right hand hidden in the sleeve of her robes as she stumbled from the bench. "I'll see you later."

She shuffled out of the Great Hall and McGonagall watched the girl leave with a frown. "She looks awful."

"I would too after having a week's worth of detention with that horrible woman," grumbled Sprout.

McGonagall cast a glance at the empty spot that Umbridge normally occupied during mealtimes. But throughout the week she had not attended dinner, no doubt waiting for Potter in her office. "Here's hoping she learns from this."

"I doubt that," sighed Flitwick. "Albus was right. She's going to do what she thinks is right, even if that means being put at the top of Umbridge's list."

"But she's going to land herself into serious trouble!" snapped McGonagall. "Albus, you really ought to talk to her."

"You heard Filius," said Dumbledore. "Charlotte is guided by her moral compass, not by the warnings of her professors. You do know why she received detention?"

"For saying You-Know-Who is back," said McGonagall stiffly.

"And?"

The woman's stern countenance softened slightly. "For defending Angelina Johnson."

Dumbledore nodded. "She will not let Umbridge lead the students down the path of deception. We cannot stop her, but we can watch out for her."

Though the elderly wizard wished that he didn't have to watch over the girl from such a distance. But it was for her own good.

...

Charlie arrived in Umbridge's office and, knowing the drill, got to work. She wrote the lines over and over, the cut opening anew and staining the parchment with blood. A few hours later Umbridge stood up and came over. "Let's see if you've finally got the message."

She extended her hand and the woman inspected it. She snagged her wrist with pudgy fingers, and now pain was searing through her scar and a peculiar sensation occurred within her stomach.

Oh, give me a break.

"Yes, I do believe my point has been made," said Umbridge in satisfaction. "You may go, Miss Potter."

The fifteen-year-old stood up and left, schoolbag slung over her shoulder. She went straight for Ravenclaw Tower and entered the common room, where she found Hermione sitting in one of the squashy chairs.

"Did Ron get in?" she asked instantly.

Hermione smiled. "Yes! Admittedly, he could still use a bit of work, but he did do a good job. I'm sure he'll improve with time."

It was then Eliza came down the stairs from the girl's dorm. "I thought I heard your voice," she said.

"I'm glad, because now I don't have to wait in suspense. Who did you choose to be Keeper?" asked Charlie.

"Cho," answered the girl. "She did a really good job."

Pleased, Charlie nodded. "Good choice. Again, I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"It's okay." Eliza smiled. "We have practice at two o'clock tomorrow."

"I'll be there."

Eliza nodded and headed back to bed. Hermione glanced at her best friend. "How was your last detention?"

"Yeah. Funny thing about that." She then told her about what had occurred in her scar.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "What do you think it means?"

"Well, I think it's a coincidence. I don't think Umbridge has anything to do with Voldemort. But I do think that Voldemort is up to something."

"You should let Dumbledore know."

"He's busy with stuff," she said. "Besides, I'm sure he's already well aware Voldemort is up to something. Twinges in my scar isn't really going to do him any good."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. Listen, I'm going to go work on some more hats before going to bed."

"I'm, uh, going to stay down here and just relax for a moment, maybe read. See you later."

The bushy-haired girl went up the stairs to their dorm. Charlie waited until she was gone before starting the hunt for the hidden woollen hats, her hand aching and her scar pulsing.