Harry Potter and the Greek Gods

{17} Detention

HARRY'S POV

On Tuesday at five to five, I said goodbye to Ron, Hermione, Jason and Percy and headed off to detention. When I knocked on the door I was greeted with a sickeningly sweet 'come on' and then was assaulted by a violently pink office.

It was unrecognisable. The surfaces had all been covered in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases of dried flowers, and on one of the walls resided the most hideous collection of ornamental plates I had ever seen, each one displaying a large technicolour kitten with a different coloured bow.

They were so foul that I stared at them, transfixed until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr Potter."

I started and looked around. I hadn't noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening, Professor Umbridge."

"Well, sit down." She instructed, pointing towards as small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair.

A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for me.

"Er," I said, without moving, "Professor Umbridge. Er- before we start, I- I wanted to ask you a... a favour."

Her bulging eyes narrowed.

"Oh, yes?"

"Well, I'm... I'm in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday. I was- I was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it another night instead."

I knew before I finished that it was no good.

"Oh no." Said Umbridge, smiling widely, "Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

I clenched my fists, channelling my anger into that instead of Umbridge. Angelina would have my head if I missed practice if I had detention. It didn't help that she was watching him, still smiling widely, as if to see whether he would start shouting again.

With a massive effort, Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the chair and sat down.

"There," said Umbridge sweetly, "We're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr Potter."

I reached down to get my quill out of my bag.

"No, not with your quill." She added, " You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

She handed me a long, black quill with an unusually sharp point.

"I want you to write 'I must not tell lies'."

"How many times?"

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in. Off you go."

She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent down over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. I raised the quill to begin, before realising what was missing.

"You haven't given me any ink."

"Oh, you won't be needing any ink."

I placed the tip of the quill on the parchment and wrote: I must not tell lies.

I let out a gasp of pain as the words appeared in what appeared to be shining red ink, while the same words appeared on the back of my hand. Yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before. I looked up at Umbridge. She was watching me, her toadlike mouth stretched into a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

I looked back down to the parchment and continued to write out 'I must not tell lies' again and again, feeling the words cut into my hand every time, and every time it healed slower.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. I didn't ask when I would be allowed to stop. He didn't even check his watch. I knew she was watching for signs of weakness and I wasn't going to show any, not even if I had to sit here all night.

"Come here." She ordered, after what seemed like hours.

I stood up. My hand was stinging painfully. When I looked down I could see that the cut had healed, but that the skin was still red.

"Hand." She said.

I extended it. She took it in her own. I repressed a shudder as she touched it.

"Tut, tut. I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet. Well, we'll have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

I left her office without a word. I walked slowly up the corridor, then, when I had turned a corner so I was sure she wouldn't hear me, I broke into a run.

The next few chapters will largely cover events from the book very closely, but stick around for 22/23, which is when a certain girl group comes knocking.