The Faery Godmother

Year 5, 6 and the Shrieking Shack

Year 5:

Hermione angrily clenched her fist, her nails digging into the palm of her hand. Her left hand, not her right one.

Her right hand was currently burning and throbbing after her detention with that awful, idiotic witch. How she could have such a high position in the ministry was beyond Hermione.

She stopped to tighten the cloth around her hand. It was already soaked, by the time she'd make it to the tower it would probably be dripping blood.

Oh, the nerve of that woman! Hermione couldn't even think about the fact that Umbridge was using the quill on first years. The thought would make her see red entirely. 

Umbridge had started confiscating wands at the start of her detention and depending on how her mood was, you would get it back right afterwards or had to wait until the next day. Naturally, Hermione had left her wand in her dorm, rather than let Umbridge get her hands on it. Unfortunately, she couldn't heal without it, but as soon as she'd get back she would use an Episkey.

I am a worthless mudblood.

Those were the words Hermione had had to write for three hours. Because she'd spoken up in class against Umbridge's obvious hatred toward muggleborns. She'd been terrified to do it, but now that she had done it, she felt- free. Like she'd broken through the first wall only to discover she could keep running.

The first step in fighting was always the hardest. But when you survived that, you saw that you were stronger than you'd thought you were. So instead of making her submissive, the detention had empowered Hermione with the courage to rise further against Dolores Umbridge.

The Lioness wouldn't cower before the toad.

"Bollocks," Hermione mumbled and stopped again to adjust the cloth. The purple fabric had turned black and heavy. She tried to tighten it again, but doing this one handed proved to be harder than she'd thought.

"Out after curfew again?" a cold voice sneered.

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth lift into a smile. She turned around to face the dark figure and inconspicuously hid her right hand behind her back. "Evening, sir."

"Ten points for being out after curfew."
Professor Snape looked like he was about to say more, so Hermione hurriedly said, "Curfew only started twenty minutes ago."

The sour curl of his lip told her he remembered exactly what she was hinting at. "I am well aware, Miss Granger. Do cease babbling any more before I do assign you to Madam Pomfrey for scrubbing bedpans."

Hermione almost had to smile. Almost.

"Now give me a good reason why Professor McGonagall's prized cub is breaking the rules once more?"

Hermione hesitated. "I had detention," she told him.

Instantly, Professor Snape's eyes flickered to her hand which she kept behind her back. Then to the small pool of blood that had formed by Hermione's feet on the floor. Something in his eyes hardened.

"Show me your hand," he demanded.

"It's fine, sir. I'll heal it once I'm in my room-"