Clarissa Snape [incomplete]

thirteen

Lol. Hello again. I took a long ass break. Sorry. I've actually almost finished the story in my notebook but was too lazy to type it so that's why I disappeared but thanks for 1.4K! Yay!

—The Pink Pig—

I don't think this information was shared, but there was a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that year. Professor Dum—Umbridge. Now, this is the first any only time you'll be hearing about her because I only had one encounter with her. After that one, teeny encounter, I avoided her like the Plague.

I never spoke a word during her classes but not because I was frightened. I didn't talk because I didn't want to get expelled or say something that would get my dad in trouble.

Over Christmas break, she pushed my buttons so hard that she almost broke them. Her actions caused my reaction of casting a not so good spell on her.

You see, I cast Sectumsempra at her, a spell that my father created himself. She managed to block it, pure luck on my side and hers, but she did give me detention which was... interesting.

However, excluding all that drama, I was looking forward to the next Death Eater meeting. I would be told what should happen to Linda Woods. Of course, I had a pretty darn accurate idea on what needed to be done, but I was excited nonetheless.

Around four that night, I walked to Professor Umbridge's room. I guess she felt the need to torture me so much that she made me miss dinner.

When I arrived, she motioned me to sit in front of her at a desk with four pieces of parchment laid gracefully across it. I took a seat and then stared at her.

"You'll be writing lines," she said in her annoyingly over-sweet voice.

"What should I write?" I asked, reaching for my quill and ink but she stopped me and said, "You'll be using a... special quill of mine.

She then laid a professional looking quill on my desk and say back in her seat.

"What about ink?" I asked.

She looked at me wickedly and said, "Oh, you won't be needing any."

—

That... excuse my French... bitch.

So the quill wasn't some super cool one with built in ink or anything.

No.

No.

It used my blood. MY BLOOD as ink. What a monster.

You see, when I was finished, the wound healed but the words were still engraved on the back of my hand and were most likely to scar. I left her room (after giving her a nice and hard Snape glare) and stared at the writing.

"Fuck," I cursed. I did not what to go through life with 'I will respect my teachers' on the back of my hand. I sighed heavily and covered my nasty wound with my other hand and then scurried off to catch the last couple minutes of dinner.

I walked in unnoticed by every one besides, you guessed it, my father. He saw my pained look and waved me over. When I reached him, he held out his hand for me to place mine in his. Because that's an amazing way to put it.

When he saw my hand, his expression went to stone and he insulted Umbridge under his breath.

"That bitch," he growled and looked to the doors of the hallway only to see the pink pig enter with a fake smile on her face.

"Dumbridge—," I said and he laughed, "I mean Umbridge has this special quill that uses your blood as ink."

He nodded, "I know, I saw Harry Potter's hand after his detention with her. She had no right—"