Sneak | Harry Potter

III

three | 03.
PAINFUL PUNISHMENTS.

The other students' chatter echoed down the stone corridors as they filed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, some muttering under their breaths about Professor Umbridge's absurd rules.

Marietta lingered behind for a moment, dreading the inevitable confrontation awaiting her. With a sigh, she adjusted the strap of her bag and made her way to Umbridge's office.

Harry Potter was already waiting by the door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. His gaze lifted when he saw her approach, and he offered a tight-lipped smile. "Hey."

Marietta stopped in her tracks, fixing him with an icy stare. "I blame you for this," she said flatly, her voice curt. "If you hadn't gone off about You-Know-Who, she would've forgotten all about me."

Harry's faint smile faded, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "So, you're one of the ones who think I'm lying, then."

Marietta could see the faint crease between his brows, the subtle shift in his expression as though he had just sized her up and found her lacking. It stung more than she cared to admit, but she forced herself not to show it.

She had bigger things to worry about—like her mother. If Marietta ended up on Umbridge's bad side, what would it mean for her mother's position in the Ministry? The thought alone made her head ache.

"I think..." Marietta hesitated, her voice softening as she chose her words carefully. "I think you should let Cedric rest in peace."

The air between them grew heavier. Harry's jaw tightened, and the flicker of irritation in his eyes flared into something closer to outrage. Marietta didn't wait for his response. She didn't want to hear it.

Turning abruptly, she opened the door to Umbridge's office and stepped inside, shutting the conversation out behind her.

"Good evening, Miss Edgecombe, Mr. Potter," came Professor Umbridge's honeyed voice. That ever-present smile stretched across her face, so wide it bordered on grotesque. "Sit."

Marietta's skin prickled with apprehension, but she complied, choosing the chair to the left while Harry sat on the right.

    Both of them placed their bags at their sides, their postures stiff and cautious.

"You two will be doing some lines for me today." Umbridge announced.

Relief washed over Marietta, so sudden and overwhelming that she nearly let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Writing lines? That was nothing. Child's play.

She reached into her bag for her inkpot and quill, but Umbridge's hand shot up, stopping her mid-motion.

"Oh no, not with your quill." Umbridge said, her smile tautening ever so slightly. "You'll be using a rather special one of mine."

She leaned across her desk, picking up two quills that gleamed an unnatural shade of blood red. The silver tips glinted ominously in the dim light of the room.

    Marietta reluctantly took hers, turning it over in her hand. The smooth, cold surface of the quill felt wrong somehow.

"Now," Umbridge began, settling back into her seat with an air of satisfaction. "For Miss Edgecombe, I want you to write, 'I will respect authority.'" Her gaze lingered on Marietta, watching her every move.