Let's Play a Game, Chapter 3
The Game of Writing
Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I am doing wrong (to correct it).
"Good morning, Miss Umbridge." A disembodied voice awoke the pink clad witch with a sing-song cadence, punctuating each word.
Delores Umbridge opened her eyes with a shudder. She was chained to a chair, in front of a desk.
She looked around, looking for the source of that grating, mocking voice, "Do you have any idea of who you are messing with? I'm the Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic! I demand you release me immediately! I'm…"
"I know exactly who you are, Miss Umbridge. And I know exactly what you are. And I know what you have been doing." The voice came from a framed portrait at the far wall. It was a bizarre looking… thing. A toy, a hideous little doll, with black messy hair, white cardboard face, with red spirals on its cheeks. It wore Hogwarts robes, but without any house colours or seals. It was seated at a school bench, with a neat stack of books and parchment sheets at one side, an ink pot and quill ready at the other side. "I have brought you here, because I want to play a game."
"Are you insane? You can't behave like..."
"Like a petty tyrant? Like you?" The voice interrupted the hated witch. "You'll find I can do pretty much whatever I want. So you better shut up and listen to the rules of the game."
"I won't be silenced!" A red light hit her from behind, stunning her painfully.
She woke up again, an indeterminate lapse of time later. Every muscle hurt. "What did you do to me?" She screeched.
"A stunning spell, unknown to Magical Britain. Unlike a simple stunner, this one hurts, I trust you noticed that. And if you keep screaming, I'll just stun you again. But be warned. The effect is both accumulative and exponential. The first one hurst like a punch to the head, the second doesn't feel like a punch of double strength, but cuádruple; the third is nine times stronger, and so on. I took care to make it non-lethal, but unless you are sure you can handle that kind of pain… well… I wouldn't advise to try it several consecutive times." The figure chuckled. "Ah, by the way, you'll be very angry to know that this is a very new spel; and therefore, it's not illegal. And it was created by somebody who definitively is not a Pureblood."
"Damned Mudbloods!" She hissed.
The figure chuckled again. "Maybe, or maybe it was a half-blood, or a cast out, or maybe a Squib! The arithmancy was designed long before the first actual casting. Heh, heh, did you know Muggles have made machines that can manage arythmantic equations? For all you know, the spell could have been designed by a -gasp!- Muggle!" The figure raised its hands, mockingly grabbing at its cheeks.
"Impossible! Those animals cannot do anything worthwhile!"
The figure shrugged, "I'm not here to educate you, Miss Umbridge. As I said, I brought you here to play a game."
"I demand you release m.."
"Are you ready to play now, Miss Umbridge? That one must have hurt." The false worry in the voice made Umbridge's blood boil in her veins, but she swallowed her fury, there would be a time for revenge! First, she had to get away from wherever this place was.
"… What's your stupid game?"
"Much better!" The puppet put quill to parchment. "All you have to do, is write some lines. Once you are done, you'll be free to go."
A sheet of parchment appeared on the desk, along a quill. She looked at it with fear, she recognized the Blood Quill immediately.
"But those are forbidden by the Ministry!"
"Oh, yes. They are. Having one is heavily penalized in Great Britain and associated territories."
"You are nothing but a criminal!"
"Oh, yes. By your corrupt, self-serving laws, I am a criminal. But I'm quite sure I won't be punished by this. You'll see, we are not in any territory associated with Great Britain, England, or any jurisdiction under the Ministry's control."
She gulped, "You kidnapped me!"
"Umm.. no. You arrived here via Portkey. Not my fault you didn't check the destination. Now, the game."
"I refuse to play your stupid game! Release me now or face dire consequences!" She threatened, thinking that she would crush whomever was behind this outrage!
"Oh, I don't think I will." The puppet mimicked writing on the parchment. "Your only hope is, as I said before, to write some lines, but I can give you an incentive."
Behind her, she heard a noise, it took her a moment to recognize it as falling water. "What is this?"
"Water, Miss Umbridge. The room is waterproof, and it will fill up. You are chained to the chair, without your wand. And I know wandless magic is well beyond your capabilities." The puppet shook its head in feigned sadness. "However, for as long as you write, the amount of water will be reduced. If you finish the lines in time, you'll be set free."
She felt the cold water reach her expensive shoes, finding its way inside.
"What do you want me to write, you miscreant? How many times?"
"Ah, oh, yes. I forgot. Just once will be enough. Please copy the text in the parchment at your left. Hurry up!"
At first sight, the text was very brief, but she paled as she read the first line.
Defensive Magical Theory
By Wilbert Slinkhard
She began to write; somehow, the Blood Quill didn't hurt as much as she feared, she was sure she could manage the pain.
Delores kept writing.
By the time she was about to finish, the water almost reached the table level. She was so focused on writing, she had stopped paying attention to the water. She wiped her forehead with her free hand, she barely noticed the sweat.
By the time she was on the last page of Slinkhard's text, her vision was blurry. She was panting heavily, and licking her batrachian lips provided no relief.
"Another mystery corpse, Coroner?"
"Another one, Jeffery."
"This one appeared in a duck pond, of all places."
"Looks like a toad, sir."
"Unflattering, but true." The Muggle coroner shrugged, the autopsy was finished. He took the clipboard, and filled the last empty spaces.
"Cause of death: partial immersion in boiling water."