Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the related characters. The Harry Potter series is created by JK Rowling. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story… As always…
For reading convenience, the bold parts are excerpts from the original version.
Chapter 2
"Come in here, Potter."
He followed her inside her study, closely pursued by Professor Umbridge, who set herself down at a chair in Professor McGonagall's office. The door closed automatically behind him.
"Well?" said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. "Is this true?"
"Is what true?" Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. "Professor?" he added in an attempt to sound more polite.
"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"You called her a liar?"
"Yes."
Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, frowning at Harry. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter."
"Have - what?"
"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin of cookies lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."
"Minerva!" screamed Umbridge, who clearly hadn't expected that Harry would be treated so nicely by Professor McGonagall, "This boy, he -"
"I'm perfectly aware of what happened, Dolores," replied Professor McGonagall, not looking at Professor Umbridge, "As you have shouted all about it at my office's door."
"But surely, he -"
"What do you want to do, then?"
"I'm going to give him detention every evening this week!" said Umbridge, a very smug smile on her flabby face as she shot a glance at Harry.
The room was silent. Umbridge's words echoed off the walls, but no response came. Professor McGonagall was still not looking at her but was fumbling with some files on her desk. Harry stared in bewilderment. Finally, Professor Umbridge spoke again, "Well?"
"Well, what?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"I - But -"
"You seem to have a pretty good idea of how to deal with things," said Professor McGonagall, "I can see no reason why you would take the trouble of going to me."
"But - Potter - You are his Head of House!"
"What do you mean by this?"
"You - surely you should - I mean," Professor Umbridge appeared to forget how to talk, "You should - decide his punishments!"
"Should I? Well, I don't think it's appropriate to issue long detentions on your first lesson, Dolores. Normally we give detentions at least after the first week at school."
"But he -"
"This has nothing to do with me," said Professor McGonagall, who, unlike the fuming, sweating and swelling Umbridge, looked superbly calm as she busied herself with her files, still refusing to look at Umbridge, "I'm merely commenting on your low standard of teaching, as to get yourself into businesses like detention on your very first O.W. L. class. I suggest, if you really want to get something from me, to think carefully over how you've been treating the students and how it's so difficult for them to build good relationships with you."
"You - But - Potter! This is all about Potter!"
"I repeat, you have already decided how Potter should be punished. So why would you take the trouble of informing me? I would say that I had better use of my time than responding to pointless questions from pointless people."
Umbridge didn't get the sarcasm.
"I'm asking you for - for -"
"Help?" said Professor McGonagall, now flipping through a pile of parchments.
Professor Umbridge hesitated for a moment, then nodded frantically, "Yes - Yes! This boy, he shouted at -"
"I repeat, I'm perfectly aware of what happened, Dolores. As for Potter," Professor McGonagall finally looked up, "It is my belief that he deserves nothing more than one night's detention, for disrupting class order."
"What?" screeched Umbridge, "What are you saying, Minerva McGonagall? He insulted -"
"Potter has not insulted anyone. On the contrary," Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows, "He has done a very good job defending his innocence."
"I - What? - He said -"
"What he said is merely a forced explanation to your baseless accusations," said Professor McGonagall, "As he tries to protect himself against your slander that he is a liar."
"He said I'm a Death -"
"What he said is only what he believes and postulates, the same as your denial of his credibility."
Umbridge suddenly let out a manic laugh, "You say that, do you?" she burst out, "You support him, do you? You want to defy me, do you?"
"Yes, I do!"
Professor Umbridge pointed a stubby finger at Professor McGonagall, "I had hoped that you'll see sense, Minerva McGonagall, seeing how clever you are… But you are just as stupid as Potter, as Dumbledore, as whatever rubbishy group that you are in!
"You'll pay, Minerva McGonagall! I'll make you pay!" And with that, she left the office.
"Might I remind you, Dolores," said Professor McGonagall behind her back, "That Potter will be serving his detention at five o'clock tomorrow. And only tomorrow."
Umbridge didn't look back.
"As always," said Professor McGonagall, turning back to Harry, who had frozen in shock at the sight of two teachers arguing, "You can never count on a Death Eater's brain."
…
"Good evening, Mr. Potter."
Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.
"Evening," Harry said stiffly.
"Well, sit down," she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him. Umbridge looked horribly delighted about something, and Harry couldn't think why she should be after Professor McGonagall had dealt with her.
"Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with your quill," she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."
…
He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel - yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.
"Yes?"
He glared at her for a second and then arranged his face into an extremely pained expression.
"Ouch - Ow - God damn this quill -"
Umbridge's smile widened at his yells, but Harry didn't stop. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.
And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was not ink, but his own blood. And again and again he yelled and shouted and swore in a progressively stronger voice. Umbridge's face turned from enjoyment to irritation. It could not be plainer that he was faking the shouts.
"ARGH - F**k this quill - You b -"
Umbridge couldn't resist herself any longer. She punched one fist onto her desk.
"Potter!"
"Ow - Yes, Professor?"
"Stop yelling!"
"Well," said Harry, a mischievous smile creeping up his face, "People yell when in pain. That's a fact, isn't it?"
"You are driving me mad!"
"You can drive me out. I don't want to be here."
"Silenc-"
Harry was just ready for her. He leapt aside promptly to avoid her Silencing Charm, which missed him by inches.
"Potter!"
"Help!" Harry shouted at the top of his voice, dancing out of Umbridge's reach, "Help! She's attacking me - help!"
The office door burst open. Professor McGonagall entered.
"What is this?" she demanded, her wand out.
"Minerva McGonagall!" roared Umbridge in fury, "What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you what you are doing here," said Professor McGonagall menacingly, "I heard Potter shout. What have you done to him?"
"Noth -"
"She cut my hand, Professor!" said Harry, "She forced me to write with a quill that will slice my hand! Here!" He showed her the wound that had healed just seconds before.
"I didn't force him to do anything!" said Professor Umbridge angrily, "I didn't point my wand at him and -"
"But you give him detention!" said Professor McGonagall fiercely, "Or are you saying that detentions are voluntary?"
"This - This is not serious!" Umbridge blurted out, grabbing Harry's wrist, "He didn't bleed -"
Harry wrenched himself out of Umbridge's grasp. He picked up the black quill and began writing on the parchment. Professor McGonagall's eyes widened in horror as the words reappeared on the back of Harry's hand.
"Dolores Umbridge!" she shrieked in Umbridge's direction, "I will not permit this kind of abuse to happen in this school! The Ministry forbids corporal punishment on students, as I believe you know only too well. Yet you dare - I hereby state, as the deputy Headmistress of this school, that you are on probation!"
She stormed out of the office, dragging Harry, who yelped as her hand closed on the back of his, along with her and down the corridor to her own office.
It was not very late, and students could still be seen moving around them as they passed, many of whom gaped at the bizarre scene. Finally, they arrived at Professor McGonagall's office and went inside. Harry felt he could breathe again.
"Thanks," said Harry, who hadn't recovered entirely from the blow back in detention, "I'm OK, Professor!" he added as Professor McGonagall continued to gaze at him.
"I know you are," she muttered in reply, "That was an excellent show."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm very glad that you are at last standing up for yourself," continued Professor McGonagall as though she hadn't heard him, "And I'm equally glad that after more than a decade as deputy Headmistress, I could utilise some of my powers."
"Wouldn't you get into trouble, Professor?" asked Harry in a worried voice, "I mean, what if Umbridge ran to Fudge and told him about you?"
"That's exactly why I have chosen to act before she does," answered Professor McGonagall, "Nobody at Hogwarts welcomes her, not for the moment, and running for Fudge will take a long time to really have an effect. They bargained for one month to get that last decree signed."
"What decree?"
"Educational Decree Number Twenty-two or whatever number it is," said Professor McGonagall angrily, "There were voices of opposition within the Ministry… Of course, anyone who wanted Hogwarts to continue being a school would negate the proposal, and Fudge had to discredit and remove all of them before the decree could proceed."
She sneered, and for a moment looked as unlike Professor McGonagall as Umbridge did. Harry couldn't respond, so he tried to stare out of the window, but it was now so dark that he couldn't see a thing.
"Potter," Harry spun around. Professor McGonagall was looking at him closely.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Do you know," said Professor McGonagall, "that you are so like your father. Sometimes I even saw him in you. I saw his playful smile, his mischievous grin, his silly pride when I gave him detention, his anger when affronted by enemies, and his loyalty, to all that he loved.
"Except for the eyes. Lily's eyes, Lily's soul peering out of James' form. You are much more like your mother than you could possibly imagine. You have her kindness - yes, her weakest and strongest point - her empathy and forgiveness, her resilience… So many things…
"Your mother and father are among my favourite students, and it was very hard, therefore, for me to accept their deaths. They shone like stars - binary stars - but then faded away so suddenly and sadly. But you survived. You live as a memorial that they once lived, and though I don't show favouritism of any sort," she smiled sourly, "You also inherited their positions as my favourite student.
"You show immense capability to endure pain and suffering and humiliation from what I had seen, but you demonstrate surprisingly little power to display weakness, to call for help, to - shall we say - stand up for yourself… You have changed… I wouldn't have expected you to shunt away from the unjust things Dolores Umbridge forced you to do, but I am, nevertheless, satisfied by your choice to speak your heart.
"Just be safe."
…