Chapter 9: Quidditch

Tom squinted one eye and carefully lined up his shot. He only needed to knock one more of James's gobstones out of the ring to win the game, and he was going to take his time.

James groaned. "Oh, just hit it, we both know you're going to win. You won the last three times in a row."

"My patience as I ensure that my shots are properly lined up is the reason why I keep winning," Tom countered. He'd started playing gobstones during their first year at Hogwarts, after his conversation with Severus had made him realize that he could use his new circumstances to try new things and see where his passions led him. And it wasn't just about Lily, although it was nice that it gave him things to talk to her about. But it was about himself too, the orphan boy who'd spent more energy trying to get through his childhood than enjoy it. Now that he was a third year, he'd had quite a lot of gobstone practice and had secured his position as one of the best players in the school. James was kind enough to help him practice, even though Tom won almost every time. And James's parents had been kind enough to offer to adopt Tom during the Summer after their first year, officially making him Tom Potter, so he didn't even have to return to the orphanage at the end of every year.

"Well, you're nothing if not patient," James teased. "Maybe a little too patient."

"If you're trying to distract me, it's not going to work."

"Well, you haven't taken the shot. But no, I was talking about Lily."

That sudden change in subject finally did succeed in distracting Tom. "What about Lily?"

James grinned at him knowingly. "You should ask her to hang out."

"We hang out," Tom protested, and they had. He was pleased to have managed to end up in a friend group with Lily, mostly due to being the friend, and now brother, of James who was in Lily's house.

"Yeah, we all hang out in a group. But I was thinking maybe it was time for the two of you to hang out… just the two of you."

"What, like a date?" Tom asked, horrified. It wasn't a secret between him and James that he liked Lily, but he had no idea if Lily returned his feelings and he wasn't ready to find out.

"It doesn't have to be a date," James said, holding up his hands to try and calm Tom down. "Just a friend thing. A friend thing where you guys get to interact and get to know each other on a more intimate basis."

"Well, I don't even know how to ask someone on a one on one just a friend thing."

James thought for a second. "Okay, how's this? I happen to know that Lily got a perfect score on the last Charms exam."

"So?"

"So, ask her to tutor you."

"You mean… just… walk up to her and ask her to tutor me? Alone?"

James laughed. "That's the idea. Though, maybe don't specify the 'alone' part, that's implied."

Tom considered this. It seemed like an innocent enough excuse to spend time with Lily that didn't require her having romantic feelings for him in order to agree to it. And he honestly could use a little help in Charms, he hadn't done as well on the exam as he would have liked. "Okay, I'll ask her."

"Good," James said, clearly pleased with himself. "Now take your shot."

Lily had actually seemed very enthusiastic about the idea of studying with Tom when he'd asked her, much to his delight. And it may just have been because Lily enjoyed studying. She was one of the brightest students in their year, after all. But Tom liked to think that it was because she wanted to spend time with him as much as he wanted to spend time with her. Whatever the reason, Lily had accepted and agreed to meet Tom in the library.

"Over here, Tom!" Lily said, waving Tom over as he approached the table where she'd already laid out her notes and textbook.

Tom ran a hand through his hair, trying to look casual as he made sure his hair wasn't sticking up in the back as it sometimes did. "Hey, Lily," he said. "Thanks for agreeing to this, I really need your help."

Lily grinned. "It's no trouble at all, it's nice to be needed."

"Well, I appreciate it," Tom reiterated as he sat down.

"Shall we get started, then?" Lily asked.

Tom nodded. "I think the cheering charm has been giving me the most trouble."

"Okay, then. Show me what you've got."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "You mean practice on you?"

Lily nodded. "Yeah, why not? What better way to assess your cheering charm than to feel its effects for myself?"

Tom laughed. "You're either very brave or very crazy if you're willing to be my test subject."

"Well, I am in Gryffindor, after all. Though, I suppose that doesn't mean I can't also be crazy."

"Are you serious about this?" The last thing Tom needed was to completely ruin his romantic chances by hitting Lily with a botched spell.

"Yes, come on. It's a cheering charm, you can't hurt me even if you do it wrong."

"You honestly never know with me, I could end up making you devastatingly sad or something."

"You could never make me sad, Tom," Lily said, her face earnest.

Tom smiled. "You're sure?"

Lily nodded. "I'm sure."

"Very well. Brace yourself. Last chance to back out."

Lily sat up straight with her hands resting in her lap. "I'm ready and you're dramatic."

"Three… two… one…" Tom casted the charm.

Lily smiled. Then she started to chuckle. And then she bursted out laughing, harder than Tom had ever seen her. Her laugh was one of the best he'd ever heard; light, bubbly, melodic. And the harder she laughed, the harder Tom laughed. He couldn't help it, her laugh was simply contagious.

"Wait, why are you laughing?" Lily managed to say through her relentless chuckles.

"Because you are!" Tom said as tears started to form in his eyes from laughing so hard.

The laughter lasted several minutes, but finally the charm started to wear off enough so that they could talk.

"I think you overdid it a bit, Tom," Lily said, following up her statement with a few lingering giggles.

"I'm sorry," Tom said, starting to feel a bit embarrassed. "I did warn you that I was having trouble."

"You did," Lily said with a laugh that had nothing to do with the cheering charm. "No harm done. It can be a delicate spell, you just need to learn to dial it back a bit."

"I guess I don't always have the best control over my spells," Tom admitted.

Lily smiled warmly. "You know, I think people who overdo their cheering charms do it because they just really like to make other people happy."

Tom returned her smile. "Well, I do love hearing you laugh," he said, which made her laugh again.

Lily proceeded to make some suggestions about how to correct his spellcasting, referencing the passage on cheering charms in their textbook, until Tom finally managed to cast the charm correctly. A warm smile stretched across Lily's face, both from the charm and because she was pleased by Tom's success. And so, with their work done for the day, they packed up their things to leave the library.

"This was fun," said Lily. "We should hang out again some time." Tom didn't need a cheering charm to achieve the euphoria that welled up inside him.

Harry found himself staring at the pages of the journal, even though there was nothing actually written there. There was a lot to process from the memories he'd just witnessed. He started with the revelation that, technically, Tom was his uncle. Harry's grandparents had adopted him. He'd never been told that his father had a brother, adopted or otherwise. And he was happy for Tom, that he'd found a family, a home he could call his own. But it made no sense that Tom, who was now officially Tom Potter, had been seemingly erased from the Potter narrative. Harry wondered what had happened to make it so that, despite being Harry's uncle, Tom had not been considered to raise him after the death of his parents. He wondered what it would have been like to be raised by the one relative who'd ever told him that he loved him.

The rest of the memory had Harry feeling conflicted. He had to admit that his mother and Tom had good chemistry, that Tom's crush would have been really endearing under different circumstances. But given that James was the one who would ultimately go on to be the father on Harry's birth certificate, the blossoming romance between his mother and another man was strange for him to watch. He wondered if some future fight over his mother was going to tear the Potter brothers apart, despite the fact that his father had not, as of yet, shown any romantic interest in his mother. In fact, he was actively encouraging Tom's crush. It was all too confusing to Harry, who resolved to push these thoughts aside until he had more information to go off of.

"I can't do it, Harry. I'm going to throw up. I'm going to fall off my broom. I'm going to get hit in the face with a quaffle," Ron said, his breathing heavy and his knuckles white as his grip tightened on his broom handle.

"Well, if it hits you in the face at least you'll have blocked it from going through a hoop," Harry teased. It was the day of the first Quidditch match of the year, and it was Ron's first year on the team. He was their new keeper, the player responsible for stopping the quaffle from going through their team's hoops. And although he'd been doing well in practice, he was having quite a bit of stage fright as they gathered with the rest of the team, getting ready for the match.

"It isn't funny, Harry. I don't know if I can do this."

"You've literally proven that you are capable of doing this. You blocked almost every shot in practice last week."

"But, that was without an audience!"

"Angelina is a much harsher critic than anyone sitting up in those stands."

"That's true!" Angelina chimed in from the other side of their tent. She was one of the chasers on the team in addition to being their captain. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet were her fellow chasers, and Fred and George Weasley served as their beaters. All team members were trusted members of Dumbledore's Army, but on this day they weren't thinking about Umbridge, or anything other than achieving victory as they took on Slytherin on the Quidditch Pitch.

"You're going to be great," Harry insisted. "You'll see. Once you get out there, the cheering won't seem so scary. It'll energize you if anything."

"Gather around, team!" Angelina called. Ron still seemed unconvinced, but he and Harry went and joined their teammates for Angelina's first pre-game pep talk as captain. "There are a lot of things I could say right now to get us all in the headspace to go out there and play like we've never played before. I could tell you all how proud I am of the progress you've all made just over the course of our last few practices. I could tell you that not only is all of Gryffindor House rooting for us to beat Slytherin, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are as well. I could tell you that we're ready for this, that Slytherin could never match our passion and dedication. All of these things are completely true. But I think the one thing above all others that I could say right now to get you all fired up is that Umbridge was a Slytherin, so a victory over Slytherin is a slap in the face to our new school tyrant."

"Here, here!" Fred and George said in unison.

"Gryffindor on three!" Angelina said, prompting the team to form a circle and hold out a hand into the center. "One! Two! Three!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the team shouted.

"Let's do this," said Angelina.

As the team lined up, the match about to begin, Harry could hear the roaring cheers of the crowds far above them. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, the anticipation rising with each passing heartbeat. He'd missed this, Quidditch being one of his favorite things about Hogwarts, or even the Wizarding World as a whole. And the wait for the start of a new season was over at last. The doors finally opened, sunlight streaming through the tunnel as the Quidditch Pitch finally came into view.

Harry looked to his right to see that Ron had squeezed his eyes shut. "Open your eyes, Ron," Harry said. "You're going to want to remember this." He could still remember this moment before his very first match, and didn't want his friend to miss a second of it. Reluctantly, Ron opened his eyes and the team stepped out onto the pitch, quickly mounting their brooms and taking to the sky.

There was nothing like flying. The wind blew through Harry's already messy hair as he soared impossibly high off the ground as hundreds of students cheered him on. Red and green blobs rushed by in a blur as members of both teams flew in wide ellipses, warming up for the match that was about to take place. Harry caught a glimpse of Ron who was happily waving to the crowd, his anxiety seemingly forgotten.

Madam Hooch, the Hogwarts flying instructor and Quidditch referee, walked onto the pitch carrying a trunk containing the four game balls; the quaffle, which the chasers tried to throw into the opposite team's hoops in order to score, the two bludgers, smaller black balls that the beaters tried to hit at the opposite team's players to stop or distract them, and the golden snitch, a tiny golden ball with wings that the seekers, like Harry, tried to catch in order to end the game and earn their team 150 points. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the players all flew down to gather around her, hovering just a few feet off the ground. Angelina and Graham Montague, the Slytherin team captain, met in the middle between the two teams to shake hands.

Harry locked eyes with Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin seeker, who scowled menacingly back at him. Malfoy was typically a major rival of his both on and off the Quidditch Pitch, but this year he'd been overshadowed by a teacher of all people. It was rather sad for a member of staff to be targeting a student to such a degree that the student didn't even have time to be bullied by his peers. But it was a day where things would feel normal, if only for one game. So the Potter-Malfoy rivalry was back in play, and Harry was ready to catch that snitch.

"Now, I expect a nice, clean game," Madam Hooch said, doing her due diligence to remind the students to engage in sportsmanlike conduct. She released the bludgers, which shot up into the air, ready for the beaters to bat them around. Then she released the snitch and it spread its little golden wings before flying off out of sight. Harry tried to mark its general location for as long as he could, though he knew it could end up anywhere by the time the match officially began. Finally, she picked up the quaffle and the chasers got into position, ready to grab for it. The keepers flew to their respective goal posts so they'd be ready to block any shots that came their way. "On my whistle." And with that, she threw the quaffle into the air, touched her whistle to her lips, and blew.

The Gryffindor chasers were prepared. Angelina had made them drill for the quaffle drop over and over until they could do it in their sleep, but it all paid off. As soon as the whistle blew, Katie and Alicia, who were on either side of Angelina, tucked in tightly so that the three chasers were practically shoulder to shoulder. They launched themselves forward as a unit, an unflinching wall. As Angelina reached for the quaffle, Katie and Alicia aimed for the other chasers, forcing them to either move or be plowed down. Harry held his breath as he watched Angelina tuck the quaffle into her outstretched arms, winning control for Gryffindor.

Harry cheered along with the crowd, but he knew the chasers weren't allowing themselves any time to celebrate. Angelina shot straight up in the air as soon as she got the quaffle, with Katie and Alicia quickly joining her to protect her either side. Slytherin's chasers came after them, and just as they were about to catch up, Alicia suddenly dropped below Angelina, who dropped the quaffle into Alicia's waiting arms as Katie quickly shifted her position to guard Alicia. With the Slytherins' goal posts nearly upon them, Alicia aimed the quaffle toward the center hoop but switched to the left hoop at the last second. This was another move they'd been practicing. It gave them less time to line up their shots, but made it so that the opposing keeper couldn't anticipate which hoop they'd be aiming for. Harry found himself holding his breath again as Alicia made her shot, but the practice paid off and the quaffle found its mark.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed as the crowd went wild.

"She scores! The first goal of the game goes to Alicia Spinnet! Ten points for Gryffindor!" exclaimed the amplified voice of Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor and close friend of the Weasley twins who had landed the job of commentating on the Quidditch games.

And so, the game was afoot. Slytherin was given control of the quaffle after Alicia scored, and they managed to get close enough to the hoops to take a shot. Ron blocked it, unable to hide the relief on his face as he did so. Gryffindor scored again, then Slytherin finally got a shot in, but Ron was able to block the next shot that came his way. Fred blocked a bludger that was heading straight for Katie, sending it over to George who was in a better position to lob it toward Adrian Pucey, one of Slytherin's chasers. Pucey dodged the blow, but failed in his attempt to get the quaffle from Katie.

Harry began the arduous task of looking for the snitch, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Malfoy was doing the same. Both seekers were slowly circling the pitch, keeping their eyes peeled for a glimpse of gold. Finally, Harry spotted something shiny fluttering around one of the Hufflepuff stands. Malfoy didn't seem to have spotted anything yet, and Harry didn't want to tip him off by being too eager. He continued his circle, staying on course so as to appear to still be looking, all while periodically glancing to where he spotted the snitch to ensure it was still there. He allowed his circle to subtly widen as he went, slowly getting closer to the edge of the pitch. The snitch began to move as he grew closer, fluttering behind the stands. Harry quickly glanced over at Malfoy, saw that he wasn't looking his way, and then slowly left the confines of the pitch, pursuing his prey.

As Harry floated out of sight of those still flying around on the pitch behind him, he picked up the pace, hoping to catch the snitch and secure a win for Gryffindor. The snitch also increased its speed, leading Harry further and further away from the pitch and into a wooded area, where Harry was forced to dodge trees as he continued his chase. It seemed to him that the snitch was acting a bit strangely. He'd dealt with some tricky snitches in his day, but none that seemed to be getting into so much mischief. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time a snitch had led him so far from the pitch. The ones they used for school were typically bewitched to stay pretty close so that the seekers wouldn't completely lose track of them, causing the games to drag on far too long. And he wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but the snitch seemed to be moving a little faster than usual.

Determined not to be outflown by a snitch, Harry flew even faster, pouring all of his concentration into avoiding obstacles. And as they burst out of the other side of the wooded area and into open air, Harry dove, his hand outstretched, and closed his fist tightly around the golden snitch.

"I got it!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly. But there was no eruption of cheers as there usually was when he caught the snitch. He'd flown further than he realized, and the pitch, along with its spectators, were far behind him. This still struck him as strange, though he supposed that no harm was done. He would simply have to fly back and make a dramatic entrance, holding the snitch high.

Harry was about to do just that when the air around him grew very cold. His heart sank as he realized he could see his breath. The sky grew darker as if someone had turned down the brightness. And looming in the sky above him he saw them; the dementors.

"Not here," Harry whispered to himself. "Please not here." He'd been so certain that he would be safe at Hogwarts. How was it that they'd followed him to school? He estimated that there were about ten of them, and there was no one around to help fight them off this time. And even on his broom, he didn't think he could outrun all of them. He had to make a stand alone.

After dropping the snitch into his pocket and pulling out his wand, Harry pointed it at the sky, as if he was going to attack. Instead he made a sharp u-turn and bolted back the way he'd come. The dementors moved immediately, flying after him and making horrible wailing noises. He couldn't outrun them, but maybe he could separate them a bit so they couldn't all gang up on him at once.

It only took seconds before a dementor was too close for comfort. Harry hit it with a shield made from a weakened patronus charm, sending it back into the sky. Two more quickly came in to replace the first, and they got the same treatment. Harry continued blocking them as they came, all the while flying as fast as he could manage. He felt the energy rapidly draining from him, his pursuers feeding on every ounce of happiness that had flooded into him the moment he'd caught that snitch. The pitch gradually loomed closer, but Harry didn't know how much longer he could stay conscious. His vision blurred and his muscles were becoming continuously weaker. He was dangerously close to losing the ability to control his broom, or even to continue holding onto it and the ground was far below him. He casted one last shield, feeling too much of his energy reserves leave him as he did so before his broom shot back into the middle of the pitch. Harry no longer knew if he was still under attack, but he'd lost the ability to fight back. He clung to his broom as best he could, trying to lower himself to the ground before he blacked out.

"Harry?" a voice called out to him. He could barely hear it. Everything sounded like he was listening with his head under water.

Harry lost control and began to freefall. Horrified shrieks rippled through the crowd as he plummeted toward the ground. Through sheer desperation, he managed to fight through the tunnel vision that was closing in and straightened himself out, maintaining his altitude. But this was short lived, and he was soon falling once again. This time, he felt two pairs of hands grab onto him, lowering him and his broom safely to the ground before the darkness claimed him.

"You could go a little shorter, I think that would suit you," Hermione said.

"I knew it, my hair's a bulky mess," Ron pouted.

"I didn't say that! Your hair is not too bulky. If you don't want to cut it, then don't."

"But my hair's a mess, it's practically all I can look at in a mirror."

"Well, if you don't like it you should cut it."

"But, would a shorter style even be any better?"

"It's worth a try if you don't like your current style anyway. You can always grow it back out if you don't like it."

Harry stirred awake, listening to the sounds of his friends' voices. As he opened his eyes, his eyelids feeling heavy, his vision was blurry before coming into focus on the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, where he was now occupying a bed. It seemed he'd managed to survive the fall after all, thanks to whoever had come to his rescue. Everything came rushing back to him, most of all the memories of his third dementor attack. It seemed that he wasn't safe anywhere. Not that Hogwarts had felt very safe lately anyway.

Ron started to reply to Hermione's suggestion, but Hermione quickly shushed him before saying, "Harry's awake."

"Harry?" Ron echoed as he and Hermione moved closer to the bed, entering into his field of vision. Ron was still wearing his Quidditch uniform.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked gently.

"My head's killing me," Harry muttered as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"What happened back there, Mate?" Ron asked. "You disappeared and came back all… droopy. If Fred and George hadn't caught you…" So that was who saved him. Harry made a mental note to thank the twins for saving his life.

"The snitch wandered off so far from the pitch," Harry recalled. "I caught it, by the way."

"We know," Ron said with a wide grin. "They found it in your pocket. We won." Harry matched his grin with one of his own.

"What happened after you caught the snitch?" Hermione pressed.

Harry's smile faded. "Dementors. They came out of nowhere, I have no idea how they knew I would be there."

Ron and Hermione looked as horrified as Harry felt. "They came onto school grounds?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "I suppose no one else saw them, then? I wasn't sure if there were any still behind me when I got back to the pitch."

Ron shook his head. "It was just you. Blimey, Harry, this is bad!"

"We can't let you go anywhere alone. Even in Hogwarts," Hermione insisted.

"Well, I'm definitely going to be a lot more careful now that I know the school's protective charms aren't enough to keep them away," Harry said.

Silence passed between them for a few seconds as the three of them let that revelation sink in. Then Hermione said, "Professor Snape will want to know you're awake."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He went pretty ballistic after your fall," Ron said. "I'd never seen him so frantic."

"He's the one who's mostly responsible for getting you here," Hermione added.

Harry smiled, knowing he should probably be feeling bad for worrying his uncle but instead feeling strangely pleased that he'd been so openly concerned for his safety. "I'll have to let him know I'm okay."

Word somehow got around that Harry had been attacked by dementors on school grounds, which earned him yet another detention for his 'lies.' He'd had a few detentions so far, in fact, always for the same thing. Though Harry tried not to break any of the ordinances, at least not openly, and did his best to avoid Umbridge when he could so that she couldn't try to catch him doing anything, she seemed to have a knack for tracking him down around the school when she wanted to. He supposed he could use this to his advantage at some point, luring her into a well laid trap set by Dumbledore's Army. But so far all that had come of it was Umbridge trying to convince him to confess to lying about all the dementor attacks and giving him detentions when he refused. And after he claimed to have been the victim of a third attack, Umbridge didn't even need to track him down in order to have a reason to add his name to the detention list.

Harry found Fred and George waiting outside the detention hall as he approached, which wasn't surprising as they were also frequent detention attendees. He walked up to them to properly thank them for what they did at the Quidditch game, but they started speaking before he could get the chance.

"It's good to see you up and walking around again, Harry," said George.

"I can't believe old toad-faced Umbridge gave you a detention before you even left the Hospital Wing," said Fred.

"I can," Harry replied. "I heard you two were the ones who saved me."

"Well someone needs to, don't they? Some psycho keeps sending dementors after you," said Fred.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, well, thank you. You both saved my life."

George waved him off. "That's practically in our job description as beaters."

"Besides, you actually picked a fun day to get detention for being attacked by dementors," Fred said.

"Is there ever a fun day to get detention?" Harry asked.

"Today's the day we're going to kick off the pranks," said George.

"A little preview of what's to come," said Fred.

"Brilliant," said Harry, who was looking forward to seeing what they'd come up with. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Actually, and I know this is a lot to ask given the circumstances, but would you mind distracting Umbridge?" George asked.

"That's the least I can do after you guys saved my life," said Harry.

"Thanks, Harry," said Fred. "We just need a minute to mess with the chalkboard."

"For you guys? I'll buy you two," said Harry.

"Very generous," said George.

Umbridge was already in the room, seated at the large desk where she always sat during their detentions as she gleefully watched as students frantically copied down their lines, trying to avoid the painful shocks that would course through them if they paused too long to catch their breath. Against every instinct that told him to run in the opposite direction every time he saw her, Harry approached her desk. The expression she bore as he walked up to her indicated that she was just as surprised as Harry felt that he was going near her willingly.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said.

"Potter," Umbridge said simply, her tone full of suspicion. She was so distracted that she didn't notice Fred and George creeping around the chalkboard behind her.

"I just had a quick question, if you don't mind."

Umbridge continued to give him a strange stare, not bothering to hide her confusion as she said, "Very well. What is your question?"

"It's about one of the ordinances. I was hoping to get a clarification."

Umbridge smirked at that. "Are you confessing to breaking more of them, Potter?"

"Oh no, of course not," Harry said sweetly. "I just wanted to make sure I completely understood them so that I don't accidentally break one in the future."

"If you're trying to delay your detention, you're wasting your time."

"I'm not," Harry insisted. "I know better than to think I could distract you long enough to forget about detention."

"Very well, out with it, then. Ask your question so we can all get started. I won't shorten the hour to account for this conversation, so if anyone ends up missing curfew due to getting out of detention late, it will be your fault when they earn themselves another one."

The hair on the back of Harry's neck bristled at that, but he ignored it as he said, "It's about the magic outside of class rule." He stole a brief glance to the Weasley twins, who gave him a quick thumbs up before going to take a seat. "I was just wondering if there was a way for us to practice the spells we learn in class outside of class time? I was having trouble with a charm that Professor Flitwick taught us this week and I was hoping to spend some time working on it."

Umbridge's eyes narrowed. "No exceptions. If you need extra practice, you may schedule an extra tutoring session with Professor Flitwick and work on the spell under his supervision."

Harry plastered a fake smile on his face as he said, "Good idea, I'll do that, then. Thanks for your help." He turned around without another word, leaving a bewildered Umbridge behind him as he took the empty seat beside George.

The other students who'd been scheduled for a detention that day filed in, and soon Umbridge was ready to get them started. She stood up and walked to the chalkboard, wand in hand.

"We're going to get started," she said. "We'll be doing the usual activity; lines. You will continue writing the ordinances until they stick. The fact that all of you are here is proof that they have not yet stuck. Please direct your attention to the chalkboard to reference them." She waved her wand, and the chalk began to write.

"Watch this," George whispered. So Harry did, and as he watched, he saw that the chalk was not writing the ordinances as expected. The somber mood that had settled over the room quickly changed as students started to laugh.

Confused by the students' reactions, Umbridge whipped around and was flabbergasted by what her chalk had written.

Umbridge shall not show her ugly face around the school.

Umbridge shall not subject students to her stupidity.

Umbridge shall not tell lies.

When Umbridge turned back around, she was fuming, her face so red it was almost purple. "Which one of you did this?" she demanded. No one answered. "Very well. Remain an anonymous coward. It's clear to me now that I have not done enough to maintain order around here. I have been far too lenient. I'm going to be cracking down on this school! You will all regret the day you chose to mess with Delores Umbridge." And with that, she stormed out of the room, detention apparently forgotten.