Oh my god, I just realized something: I don't have a disclaimer!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the strawberry-flavored lipbalm in my room.
ArtemisRide: That is an interesting idea. Unfortunately, there are two problems with it: one, this is not an AU, so Annabeth's interaction with Ron should be minimal. Two, in this fic, she's about four years younger than him, so it's unlikely that he would take anything she says too seriously. It's a good idea, though. Under different circumstances I might used it.
Masterofbugs123: Yeah, poor Annabeth.
Cookie05: I actually didn't see it yet, but I really want to. My dad thinks I need to see the original first. So don't spoil it for me!
max artemis potter: Thanks.
ButterflyFlyToMe: So do I. She's pretty bold and very defensive, so it would make sense that she would stand up for the boy.
ChickWithThePurpleGuitar: Alright, I will continue them. Sadly, Umbridge is not a monster, though (at least not in the Greek sense). That was just Annabeth being overly paranoid.
PJO and HP lover: Thank you so much, I'm glad you like it.
HappyHS: Beats up? That seems rather farfetched. Tells off? Much more likely. By the way, I read your reviews to A New Twist, thank you so much!
darklilyofthevalley: Let's hope I made it interesting.
"Ah, Annabeth," Umbridge said as the Ravenclaw girl entered her office.
Annabeth glanced around the room. The atmosphere alone was enough to make Annabeth want to turn around and leave. Everything in the room was a sickly shade of pepto bismol pink, and there were creepy cat decorations everywhere as well.
Hesitantly, Annabeth walked up to the teacher's desk, where Umbridge was busy grading papers.
"You will be writing lines tonight, Miss Chase," the professor drawled comfortably. It didn't take a genius to know that she was totally enjoying this.
Annabeth grimaced. Lines? She couldn't imagine there being a worse punishment. Annabeth wanted to make a scene. She wanted to shout at Umbridge and tell her how completely unfair this punishment was. But instead Annabeth tried her best to swallow her pride and through gritted teeth, asked, "What should I write?"
Umbridge's eyes were practically glowing with glee. "Hmm . . . let's see . . . how about 'I must control my temper'." It was an order, not a question.
Annabeth clenched her hands into tight fists, but said nothing. She accepted the quill the professor gave her and went to sit down in the empty desk. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She smirked. "Professor?" said Annabeth innocently. Umbridge looked up. "Can I write it in Greek?" she asked.
Umbridge glared at her in absolute loathing. She had been able to figure out the other children pretty quickly, but this one was different. What kind of game was she playing? "No, you may certainly not."
Annabeth shrugged. It was worth a try.
She held the quill awkwardly between her fingers. Annabeth never quite figured out how to hold one properly. Her other teachers had all given her permission to use an old-fashioned fountain pen instead. All except for Umbridge.
She began to write.
I must laern to . . . she crossed it out, learn to . . . .
Annabeth dropped her quill suddenly. She had felt a sharp pain in her hand. Annabeth tried to ignore and wrote some more, but the pain only got worse. Annoyed, she decided to look as she was it was.
Annabeth looked at her hand. She wasn't expecting to see anything. Maybe a scratch or something. She was wrong. There was definitely something there. Carved into her hand, in her own blood, were the words on the parchment. Annabeth figured it out right away.
Sick. This lady was sick. She looked up at Umbridge. The professor looked absolutely smug.
The teacher noticed Annabeth looking at her and said, "Is something wrong, dear?"
Annabeth glared at her, not saying a word. She continued to glare for a full thirty seconds longer. Then, without warning, she snapped the quill in two, threw it on the floor, and ran out of the room.
Annabeth was too busy running to watch where she was going. She was going to have to speak to someone about this. Hogwarts: A History said that physical punishment was illegal in Hogwarts since 1938. Something was very wrong with that woman. No wonder some kids had been crying. She was horrible!
"Ouch!" Annabeth had accidentally bumped into somebody. "Sorry . . ." she looked up and gulped, "Sorry, Professor McGonagall."
"Miss Chase, there is no running in the hallways," she said sternly.
Annabeth nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
McGonagall had begun to walk away, when Annabeth called, "Hey wait, um, Professor!"
McGonagall turned around. "What is it?"
"There's . . . there's something wrong with Umbridge. She gave me detention and made me write in my own blood, and . . . " Annabeth noticed that McGonagall looked doubtful. She didn't believe her! "Wait! I have proof," she pulled out her hand, showing the bloody words that had been etched in.
For a second, McGonagall looked absolutely shocked. That shock soon turned to anger. "This is completely unacceptable!" she cried angrily. "Something WILL be done about that woman!" she turned back to Annabeth, "Go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will fix that up."
Annabeth frowned. It was just a couple of cuts. They would heal in time. She had been wounded far worse before. "I'm fine."
McGonagall glared at her, once again regaining her posture, the woman looked as intimidating as ever. Annabeth decided not to argue, the transfiguration teacher was on her side, after all.
After several wrong turns, and a lot of help from the portraits, Annabeth made it to the infirmary. There were nearly a hundred white beds lined up against the walls, but currently only two were occupied. Both of the kids were is Hufflepuff, and appeared to be older than her by at least a couple years. There was one boy and one girl.
The girl had long, reddish hair and hazel eyes. She gave Annabeth a kind smile. She had a large black eye that was squirting out some sort of puss. Annabeth assumed that was why she was in the hospital wing. The boy was not nearly as friendly. He was blond, skinny, and had a slight upturned nose. He just scowled.
"Hi," Annabeth said a bit awkwardly.
"Hello," the girl replied. "I'm Susan Bones, fifth-year. Who are you?"
"Annabeth Chase, first-year," she looked at the girl's eye, "um . . . what . . ."
Susan managed to laugh, although it seemed half-hearted. She touched eye and then shuddered. It must have been painful. "Nasty jinx. I couldn't tell exactly what it was. Could you, Zack?" she asked, referring to the blond boy.
He frowned. "Don't call me that," he said, "as for the spell, no. I think it was done nonverbally."
Annabeth looked over the boy. He seemed perfectly fine to her. "What happened to you?" she demanded a bit rudely.
The boy said nothing, but Susan said, "Locomotor Mortis. It's a leg-binding spell. Zack was hit by a rather nasty one."
The boy, Zack, glared at her. "It's none of her business! And don't call me Zack!"
"Why is there shouting?" a voice demanded.
A woman came into the room. She wore a black dress with a white apron over it, and he grey hair was tied back in a tight bun.
"Are you Madam Pomfrey?" asked Annabeth.
"Yes," the woman said.
Annabeth held out her hand, "Detention with Umbridge," she said.
Madam Pomfrey gasped. "She's having you . . . ugh, that woman!"
It seemed that Umbridge was just about as popular with the staff as she was with the students.
She gave put something on Annabeth's cuts. It stung a little, but she didn't share show it. The entire process took about four minutes to clean the cuts, and then Annabeth was sent off.
For the first time since she entered the school, Annabeth felt as if everything would be alright. She felt confident that she had done the right thing by going to the authorities. The adults would sort things out, she was sure of it. Everything was going to be alright. It was all going to be downhill from here.
She, of all people, should have known better.
A short chapter, and a bad one. I am ashamed. I just felt that there needed to be more Hufflepuff. They are particularly excellent finders, you know. I always got really mad at Harry for not telling an adult about his detention. I would like to believe that Annabeth would have more common sense. The boy, for those of you who didn't know, was Zacharias Smith, a smart-mouthed Hufflepuff who was in Dumbledore's Army later on in the fifth book.
Sorry I couldn't update sooner. I began eighth grade, and it's SO hard! I've never been given so much homework so early in the year. It's very annoying. Anyway, since it's a long weekend, hopefully I'll be able to update again. If not, you can blame my teachers.
Suggestions are always welcome. So is constructive criticism. I don't care, just review! Pretty please?