Hermione squared her shoulders as she approached Umbridge's office, determined to endure whatever punishment the sadistic professor had in store for her. The corridor seemed unusually dim, shadows dancing eerily across the stone walls, amplifying the sense of foreboding that hung heavy in the air.
As she reached the door to Umbridge's office, Hermione hesitated for just a moment, her hand hovering over the handle. Her mind was still reeling from the message she had received on the DA coin moments earlier, but she pushed her curiosity and irritation to the back of her brain; she would deal with this first. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead, knocking once. She was greeted with a high pitched "Enter" from behind the door, before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
Umbridge sat behind her desk, her pink cardigan and matching bow-line hat perched atop her head giving her the appearance of a malevolent teapot. Her small, piggy eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction as she looked up at Hermione's entrance.
"Ah, Miss Granger, pleased to see you made it." Umbridge simpered, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Please, do come in and take a seat."
Suppressing a shudder, Hermione complied, settling herself into the hard-backed chair opposite Umbridge's desk. The room felt oppressively warm, the air heavy with the scent of sickly-sweet perfume and underlying menace.
"Now, Miss Granger," Umbridge began, folding her hands primly on the desk in front of her, "I trust you understand the gravity of your actions in yesterday's class?"
Hermione met Umbridge's gaze squarely, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "Yes, Professor," she replied evenly, her voice steady despite the knot of anxiety that had settled in her stomach.
"Good, good," Umbridge said, a twisted smile playing at the corners of her thin lips. "Now, I trust by now you're familiar with my favourite correctional method?" She gestured to the familiar quill in front of Hermione. The sight of it sent a shiver down her spine.
Hermione fought to keep her expression neutral. "Yes, Professor," she replied through gritted teeth, already dreading what was to come.
"Excellent," Umbridge said, sliding some parchment paper towards Hermione. "I trust you know what to do, Miss Granger. Begin."
Hermione hid her surprise at the fact that Umbridge had not thought of a newer, crueler torture method for her. She was almost thankful, but caught herself on that thought. How horrible, to be in a school where students would be thankful they were only carving up their hands as punishment.
With a sinking feeling in her chest, Hermione picked up the quill and dipped it in the inkwell, resigning herself to the hours of mind-numbing repetition and pain that lay ahead. As she began to write, the scratching of the quill against parchment filled the room, broken only by the gentle meowing of the kittens in the china plates adorning the walls and the clinking of Umbridge's china cup against her saucer.
The minutes bled into hours, with her own hand opening up to bleed alongside with the lines Umbridge had assigned; 'I must refrain from challenging authority figures, particularly on subjects beyond my comprehension, especially when my knowledge is limited and dreadfully misguided.' Hermione was sure she had made this sentence as wordy as possible just for her.
As the third hour drew to a close, and Hermione's hand was absolutely wrecked, Umbridge finally set down her tea cup and set down the letter she was drafting.
"That'll do, I think." She smiled sweetly.
Grimacing, Hermione set the quill down and began to slowly pack her things, wincing as her hand cramped and ached. She gathered her bag, and was about to turn and leave, when she heard a small 'ahem'.
Without warning, her school bag flew from her arm,summoned straight on to Umbridge's desk.
"You don't think that would be your only punishment, do you?" Asked Umbridge, her brow furrowed in mock confusion. When Hermione stared at her blankly, she let out a breathy laugh.
"After our little chat in class, it has come to my attention that you fancy yourself much too good to learn purely from source material. Since you prefer a practical approach, I have decided that you will not be allowed access to any reading material unless permitted. You may have access to basic source materials for in class usage, but-"
She summoned all the books from Hermione's bags, banishing them one by one, until only a handful were left, "All of the extras are merely distractions for someone as bright as you, don't you think? And I have also taken it upon myself to restrict your access to the library." She smiled cruelly, basking in Hermione's devastated expression.
Hermione's heart sank as Umbridge's words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating her hopes of a swift escape from this nightmare of a detention.
"But Professor," Hermione protested, her voice tight with disbelief and rising panic, "You can't do that! O. are just around the corner, I need those books to study!"
Umbridge's smile widened into a sickly grin, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight at Hermione's distress. "Oh, but I can, Miss Granger," she purred. "As High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, I have the authority to determine what is best for the students under my jurisdiction."
Hermione's mind raced as she tried to come up with a counterargument, but the weight of Umbridge's words bore down on her like a leaden cloak, smothering her protests before they could take shape.
"But... but the library," Hermione stammered, her voice trembling with the fear of losing her sanctuary, her refuge from the chaos of Hogwarts. "You can't ban me from the library!"
Umbridge's eyes narrowed into slits, her expression hardening into one of cold satisfaction. "I assure you, Miss Granger, I can" she repeated, her tone laced with cruel amusement. "And rest assured, I will have my eyes on you at all times. Any attempt to circumvent my orders will be met with severe consequences. That includes asking any of your peers to check out books on your behalf."
Hermione's chest tightened with panic as the full weight of Umbridge's authority crashed down on her, leaving her feeling helpless and trapped. Without her books, without the library to distract her, she was adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with no lifeline to cling to.
As Umbridge dismissed her with a wave of her hand, Hermione stumbled out of the office, her mind whirling with fear and desperation. How could she hope to succeed in her O. without access to her study materials? How could she survive without the solace of the library?
With each step she took, the walls of Hogwarts seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with their oppressive presence. Tears stung her eyes as she realised the extent of Umbridge's control over her life, leaving her feeling more alone and vulnerable than ever before.
How could Umbridge have known to inflict such a specifically cruel punishment? Who could have told her how much the library, and books meant to her?
Eyes burning with the tears she was forcing herself to hold back, she stumbled her way through the halls, not paying attention to where she was going, bumping into people without apology. She grieved the comforting weight of her school bag bursting with books, now light as a feather.
Eventually, she found herself outside the castle in the courtyard, the cool chill of the night air stinging her face. Finally alone, she doubled over, collapsing to the ground against the stone wall, curling into herself as she finally let out the sob she had been holding back.
Time must have passed, because the sky was inky black by the time she finally opened her eyes and looked around. She felt the hot burn of the coin against her chest, and pulled it out dejectedly.
"Crying over a library ban? How predictable."
Her despair ebbed to fury as she glared at the spiteful words. How did they know? She looked around - no one was here. How on earth did they know about her library ban? She didn't care if it was Fred, or George, or anyone bloody else in the DA for that matter.
Furiously, she wrote back -"PISS OFF".
Crossing her arms, she glared at the coin for a moment, half a mind to toss it away, when a response burned back - "Language, Granger."
Hermione let out a scream of frustration. Just what she needed! Some bloody arsehole tormenting her when she was already at rock bottom.
She shoved the coin back into her pocket, before storming upstairs to the common room.
…
The Potions classroom felt more suffocating than usual the next day as Hermione trudged inside, her steps heavy with exhaustion and despair. The dim light filtering through the dusty windows cast long shadows across the room, adding to the gloomy atmosphere that seemed to mirror her own despondent mood. Hermione sank into her chair with a weary sigh, the weight of recent events bearing down on her like a leaden cloak.
As Snape began his lecture in his usual monotone voice, Hermione struggled to focus, her thoughts drifting back to the loss of her beloved books and library. The upcoming O. loomed over her like a dark cloud, their approach a relentless reminder of her uncertain future. Without access to her books and the library, Hermione felt adrift.
As the class dragged to a close, Hermione set about robotically packing up her things. From the corner of her eye, she saw Terry made his way over to her, his usual sunny disposition clouding as he took in the expression on Hermione's face.
"Hi," she greeted him softly, her voice carrying the weight of her exhaustion.
Terry's brows furrowed with worry as he looked at her. The jovial chatter of their classmates filled the air around them, starkly contrasting with Hermione's heavy mood. "You okay, Hermione? I was just wondering if you wanted to meet up tonight for a study session?" he asked tentatively.
Hermione felt her heart sink even further at the reminder of her predicament. She hadn't considered how Umbridge's punishment would affect her study 'dates' with Terry, too. She bit her lip, struggling to maintain her composure. "Terry... I can't," she confessed quietly. "Umbridge has banned me from the library and from accessing books outside of the core curriculum. I won't be able to study with you, or by myself for that matter."
Terry's expression shifted from concern to outrage, mirroring Hermione's own feelings. "That's absurd! How on earth are you supposed to study for your O. ? Surely someone can put a stop to this!? That evil witch," he spluttered indignantly.
Hermione couldn't help but feel a glimmer of relief at Terry's understanding and support. Finally, someone who grasped the severity of her situation and shared her passion for academic excellence (Harry and Ron, though sympathetic, didn't understand the full scope of her punishment, never having entered the library unless absolutely necessary).
"I know. It's awful," she agreed, "But I'm sorry, I won't be able to study with you - guess you'll have to find a new study partner." She aimed for a light tone, though her heart sank at the thought.
Terry looked indignant, "New partner? Absolutely not. Who else in our year would have anything of importance to contribute to my essay on the ethics of Human Transfiguration? This is a tragedy!"
Despite herself, Hermione couldn't suppress a small smile at Terry's flattery. "I had so many ideas for that essay, too." She said eagerly, "I wanted to write mine on The Hippocratic Oath and Transfiguration, but the core text simply does not cover enough in the history of human transfiguration to form a comprehensive argument." She said, suddenly sad again, thinking of all the wasted potential. She hoped that Mcgonogall would at least take pity on her and be lenient with her marking when she heard of her predicament.
Terry looked at her with sorrow, "Can't I just check out a book for you and at least bring it to you during class, if we can't study together?" He suggested earnestly.
At this, Hermione shook her head. "No. Umbridge has eyes all over the place, and I don't want anyone else getting punished for helping me." She couldn't help feel like there were eyes already on her, and looked around cautiously. Only a couple of Slytherins and handful of Ravenclaws were lingering.
Terry's expression softened with understanding as he took in Hermione's distress."Hermione," he said gently, reaching out and placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "You could beat everyone here in your O. in your sleep. If anyone can get through this, you can. And who knows? That old witch has so many enemies, maybe one of them will get rid of her soon for us."
Hermione offered him a small smile, the warmth of his hand on her providing a momentary comfort. Once again, she gazed into his deep blue eyes, feeling herself eternally grateful she had not noticed just how blue they were before now, as they would surely have resulted in an inability to concentrate in their shared classes.
After they departed, Hermione spent the rest of her day trying not to wallow too much in her own pity. Detention with Umbridge came and went, with the expected jabs and snarky comments from her professor.
When she returned to her bedroom, her hand had a new scar, forming the sentence "I will learn to face the consequences of my own foolish actions without complaint."
It was late at night, and most of her dorm mates were asleep. With a stab, Hermione realised that she couldn't even read one of her favourite books for leisure like she usually did to fall asleep, as they had all been confiscated by Umbridge, even her muggle books. With the exception, of course, of 'To Kill a Mockingbird', which was still missing.
She climbed into bed, resigning herself to tossing and turning all night. However, as she angrily pushed her pillow into shape, she felt a hard lump. Bewildered, she drew her bed hangings, before muttering a lumos charm to inspect the object.
It was a book. A book that she had never seen before, old looking with gorgeous green and silver bindings. She gasped as she inspected the title closer: 'Ethics Transfigured: A complete and thorough guide of the history of The Hippocratic Oath."
Hermione gazed at the book in wonder. It was exactly what she needed for her transfiguration essay! A small laugh escaped her lips as she held the tome in her hands, hugging it to her chest.
One thought was on her mind: Terry. He was the only one who knew she wanted to write her essay on this subject, and he had found a way to send it directly to her in secret.
She was giddy with appreciation and happiness, and almost too distracted to notice the glow from the coin on her bedside table. She debated not checking the coin, lest it destroy her happy bubble, but curiosity got the better of her.
"Bit of an idealist, this Atticus fellow."