{Half A Hero} Hufflepuff!Reader

Chapter 15: The Bad Detention

The words stung on your hand.

It did not help that you were angrily pressing the quill into the page, the writing becoming bold with blood. The penmanship on your hand just as thick.

Umbridge's 5th half hourly checkup was interrupted by Professors Mcgonagall and Sprout. They announced that all three of you needed to follow them to the Headmaster's office.

The pair of delinquents, you and Hazard, trailed after them. The professors preferred not to clarify the issue. You could tell the pettiness was only to get back at Umbridge, and, hopefully, not because your sins were greater than you knew.

There was a different look teachers had in their eyes if you are the wrong do-er.

You sighed. It was only a matter of time before you had to be in the headmaster's office. It usually was a weekly gig at your old school. Seeing as you had to keep explaining why you "just happened to be in the wrong place, when things were going even wronger."

The stroll through the castle felt... prolonged more than necessary. The students stared more. Your sleeve soaked in blood. The professors kept bickering between themselves, not paying either of you to notice.

"Are you alright?" Hazard asked. "We passed three pun opportunities and you didn't take any of them."

"We're in a very serious situation, mate."

"Didn't stop you when you were getting cussed out by Snape yesterday."

"I'm a different person now."

Hazard snorted. Your shoulders tensed. You had to explain.

"I am older and wiser."

Hazard's snort bounced through the now tiny corridor. He choked and doubled over. This attracted attention from the adults.

You did your best not to laugh at Umbridge's expression. Her red, puffy anger tried to escape her calm demeanor. It was frightening.

"Everytime you two are alone," She sneered. "You two can never behave. I cant blame you. Potter brings out the worst in people."

You saw Mcgonagall roll her eyes. She turned to a wall. It wasn't a wall anymore. During the snorting, it had transformed into a staircase, and you were very sad to have missed that. Now you hoped to be called to the office on another, less bad, meeting just to see what Hazard's giggles had robbed you of.

The teachers led the way through the narrow stairwell. Mcgonagall first, then Umbridge, Hazard, Professor Sprout noticed your bleeding. She grabbed your hand and squinted at it. She noticed the hand writing. Quite the detective, this Professor.

"Oh dear." She said.

"It's fine. If we let it bleed Umbridge will get in more trouble."

"Oh dear." She repeated.

Umbridge croaked down the stairwell for you both to hurry up. It seemed to have swayed Sprout in your favour.

You both made up with quick steps, only to find all of the professors clogging up the landing. Their whisperings stopped once you entered the fray.

The main office had terrible sounds coming through the heavy wood door. Crashings, bangs and booms. Professor Flint flinched with each proud breaking of property.

Dumbledore saw Hazard's bleeding hand wrapped in what was more blood than a handkerchief. Then your now freely bleeding hand dripping blood onto the stone. He looked at Umbridge.

"Hello."

"Hello, Professor." Umbridge tried to smile. "You called."

"Yes. Yes. I did."

He regarded you for a bit. Dumbledore turned and revealed Draco and Lucius Malfoy. What you regarded to be a second father to you stared at your hand in shock.

Your prayers! The answers had arrived! Later than scheduled, but nonetheless, they were here.

You chirped in greeting, hand now not a concern.

"Your father thinks you're dead." Dumbledore said. "None of us can convince him other wise."

Ah. That explains the hiding.

You stepped up to the door and rapt the knock. Whatever objects had not already been broken fell to the floor. The group jumped behind you.

You stepped into the room quick, shutting the world out. Big breath of air now. Focus. You brought a pink bubble around your father.

Damian had a direct com link to spy on Dumbledore. You needn't have him thinking your father was related to the Clown Prince of Gotham. Though you felt the cosmos tell you it was too late.

Dad had fallen to the ground at some point. His laughter silenced by the bubble. You put your hand through. The rest of you followed. You joined him, kneeling before him.

His hands ruffled through your hair. They squished your face. Hiccups interrupted his laughs. Dad squeezed your shoulders, then pulled you against him.

"I thought you died again." He blubbered.

You still just might. You squeezed him back. If he was going to rob you of breathing, you were going to do the same.

Dad still couldn't stop the laughs. So you rubbed you bloody hand on his shoulder. Near his nose.

The smell of copper engaged the Bloodhound.

You let the bubble dissipate now that his ear-bleeding laughs had stopped. His breathing rattled him, it took more effort. You could see him a lot better. He had a grey tinge to him, like a old, badly coloured in drawing. His eyes bag, that usually matches yours, had deepened significantly with a horrific purple to it.

"Don't have another heart attack." You pleaded.

He let out a puff of a laugh, a genuine one. He rubbed a thumb over the wound to seal it. The blood on it absorbed in, revealing the words to him. His fingers pressed into you a little more.

So. You made like the impromptu tattoo, and told no lies.