[✓] 𝗴𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀. fred weasley

'•.¸♡ YEAR 7 ♡¸.•'

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

-ˋˏ CHAPTER 44 ˎˊ-

↳ ❝ [ THEY'RE BRILLIANT! ] ¡! ❞

  .・゜゜・[Y/N] POV

With Umbridge being the Headmaster, the punishment for the DA had been severe. We all spent over an hour sitting with Umbridge, writing lines on the parchment that drowned in blood carved from our hands. 

First years were getting detentions, writing lines with the same quills as we did. It puts a bad first impression on Hogwarts for their first year here. I felt sympathy for them. They shouldn't have to go through that kind of torture. 

And I still blamed Dumbledore for it. 

Dumbledore left us in the hands of Umbridge, leaving is to fend for ourselves against her. And nobody could do anything. Or wouldn't do anything. Everyone was too scared to do so, between the Inquisitorial Squad and the punishments that Umbridge gives. 

Now, we sat in the Great Hall trying to complete our OWLs. Umbridge sat at the front of the room, sitting in an overly dramatic chair. A pink robe hanging off her shoulders with a cup of tea. Her lips stretched uneasily into a smile, a wicked grin. 

The clock swung behind her at an agonizing pace. Slow and never speeding. Each second passing by slower than a snail against the rock. Everyone's head was ducked down, noses touching the parchment below them. Quills scratched repeatedly over the wood of the desks. 

I sighed, dropping my hand for a short moment. Fingers going numb from the obsessive writing. Under the desk, my leg bounced. Toes aching from the repeating action. The room was filled with dull-minded students. Save for a few. 

Flinching, I looked towards the thick wooden doors. A crash sounded outside, sounding faint but evident. Umbridge noticed, too, but didn't acknowledge it. Before turning back down to the parchment, another crash. Closer, this time. 

Everyone lifted their heads and turned towards the door. Their attention brought to another crash. Growing closer and closer. Umbridge stood from her chair, heels clicking against the floor as she approached the door.