LATIBULE - F.WEASLEY

15

Maggie stands at the entrance of the Great Hall, bidding farewell to the twins and Lee as they disappear into the crowd. Fred had promised to sneak some food out of the Great Hall for her after detention. She lets out a deep sigh, adjusting her bag on her shoulder when suddenly she hears someone calling her name. She turns around to see who it is.

"Harry?"

"You got detention too?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, she doesn't like me very much,"

"Me neither,"

"Well we are the nutjobs of Hogwarts," Maggie shrugs. "Do you reckon we have to paint her office walls pink?"

"Maybe we have to help her decide on the ugliest outfits to wear,"

"Now that would be a breeze of a detention, considering everything she wears is a travesty,"

They walk up the steps and Maggie knocks on the door. It swings open to reveal Umbridge sitting at her desk, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. The office is a stark contrast from its previous state, with walls painted in obnoxious shades of pink, and the space is adorned with a plethora of feline plates that emit loud meows.

"Children, come in. Take a seat,"

Harry and Maggie share a confused glance at the woman's sickly sweet kindness. It was nauseating. The most unsettling aspect of her demeanour is her smile, which contradicts the stony glare in her eyes, leaving them feeling uneasy.

"This detention will be rather simple," The woman says, stirring her tea. "You'll be writing lines for me"

Maggie reaches up to her hair, delicately extracting the pen that had been serving as a makeshift hair tie. As she removes it, her blonde locks cascade down her shoulders, framing her face. The Professor watches Maggie's hair fall with a hint of disapproval, before swiftly snatching the pen from her grip. Maggie's eyes narrow as she shoots the Professor an annoyed glance.

"You'll be using special quills of mine, not muggle pens," The woman spits out the last part as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.

Umbridge reaches into a drawer and pulls out a set of quills. They're ornately designed, with black feathers and red tips. Maggie eyes them warily, suspecting that these quills might not be as innocent as they appear.

"Mr Potter, you will write I must not tell lies and Miss Crouch," The woman grins. "You will write I am a death eater's daughter. Because as much as you try to erase that fact, it remains just that. A fact"

Maggie's jaw tightens, her eyes narrowing at Umbridge's smug expression. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself not to give in to the anger bubbling beneath the surface. She reaches for one of the dark quills, determined not to let Umbridge see how much her words affect her.

The atmosphere in the office is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional scratching of quills and the soft meowing of the decorative cat plates. Maggie winces in pain as a sharp, stinging sensation shoots through her hand. She looks down to see her own cursive handwriting etching itself onto her skin, the very words on the parchment tearing through the flesh.

"Are you alright dears?"

"Just fine," Harry grits out, glancing at Maggie.

Umbridge grabs Maggie's hand, a sick satisfied smile on her face as she squeezes the girl's hand. Maggie flinches, gritting her teeth as the woman traces her fingers over the words, smearing Maggie's blood across the back of the witch's hand.

When Umbridge finally releases her hand, Maggie flexes her fingers to try and alleviate some of the pain. Her eyes remain fixed on the professor's self-satisfied smirk, which only serves to fuel the anger and frustration boiling inside of her.

"Thank you for your concern," Maggie says through clenched teeth, suppressing the anger boiling within her.

"I don't believe the message has quite sunk in for either of you," The woman simpers. "I believe another half an hour will be sufficient for the message to truly sink in"

Maggie let out a deep sigh, her hand trembling slightly as she set down the quill on the parchment once again. She could feel the words continuing to etch themselves into her flesh as if the ink from the quill was drawing not just from the blood on the surface but from deep within her veins.

Maggie endures what feels like an endless half-hour of excruciating pain as she frantically scribbles the required lines with a quill using her own blood as ink. Her hand throbs with each stroke of the quill but Maggie grits her teeth and tries to ignore the pain, but it is persistent.

"I believe that it is sufficient for now but I will not hesitate to give either of you a detention again if I see fit to do so,"

Maggie gets to her feet, her face set in a hard glare at the pink-clad woman. She hands the quill back to Umbridge who smiles sweetly at the girl.

"I may be a Crouch, but I am not defined by the actions of my father. Marring my hand with scars won't change that,"

Umbridge's saccharine smile falters for a moment, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. She takes the dark quill from Maggie and nods dismissively.

"A sharp tongue won't get you far in life dear. Especially if you want to follow in your grandfather's footsteps in the Ministry,"

"Why would I want to be anything like that man? I am my own person and I will make my own destiny. Unlike you who will always remain in the Minister's shadow. Alone and uncared for,"

Maggie walks out of the room with Harry at her side, not letting the woman get another word in. They stop once they get in the hallway and Maggie gently takes Harry's hand before reaching into her bag.

The witch reaches into her satchel and retrieves a tiny, emerald-coloured vial with a slender dropper attached to its cap. Maggie takes hold of the tiny dropper and carefully squeezes out a few drops of the liquid onto Harry's open wound. Almost immediately, the redness surrounding the injury starts to recede, leaving the stark red letters that had been carved into his skin.

"It will scar," Maggie says, handing Harry the vial. "The healing process will be longer too because those quills were definitely dark artefacts. Use this three times a day"

"Where did you get this?"

"I made it," Maggie shrugs. "With a grandfather and father like mine, I learnt healing potions and essences very young"

"That's brilliant," Harry says. "Not why you had to learn it- I mean-"

"I know what you meant,"

"Can she get away with this?"

"She's here under Ministry authority, anything she does will be covered up,"

"So what do we do?"

"Honestly, I have no idea,"