A Magic Stronger Than Darkness ~ Book 2: Forever & Always

Chapter 4 ~ Trouble Begins to Brew

A few weeks later, my friends and I were all sitting in Umbridge's mediocre Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where the overgrown toad of a woman was busy lecturing us on the importance of our O.W.L.S. exams and what we needed to do to score well enough to pass. I rolled my eyes and glanced at Hermione. She was staring at the Ministry woman with absolute abhorrence, clearly disgusted that we were not discussing the content we should be learning in this course.

While the exams were certainly important, so was our need to practice the spells essential in learning defensive magic. I could tell Hermione was having as difficult a time as I was in terms of trying to concentrate and get some notes down on our parchment. It is official, this year is going to be a disaster, I thought. On the bright side, no one's treating me differently than before they found out I was an animagus...
In the common room that evening, I heard Hermione, Ron, and Harry bickering quietly with one another about something. They were speaking in hushed tones, but there was frustration and disbelief prevalent in the voices that were slowly rising in volume. Interested and concerned, I got up from my place in one of the cushioned armchairs and crossed the room to see what the intense discussion was about.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" I inquired, leaning over the short bookshelf they were sitting beside.

The trio's eyes darted up at me, briefly startled by my sudden appearance. Upon realizing that it was only me though, they all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Go on, Harry. Show her your hand." Hermione spoke forcefully, pursing her lips at our dark-haired friend.

"No, Hermione, really it's-" Harry began, shaking his head. I cut him off by reaching forward and gripping his wrist tightly, yanking my friend closer so that I could examine his hand.

At first, I didn't see anything unusual...but then I flipped the appendage over. Numerous scratches covered the top of Harry's skin; rough, scarlet lines still dotted with tiny droplets of blood. Yet, these marks weren't just scratches, they were words that were literally written into the flesh atop Harry's hand. I read the scabbed-over letters and my jaw dropped open. The engraving was one short statement, tiny handwriting spelling out the words, "I must not tell lies".

I gaped at Harry, "What happened?" I demanded.

Hermione stared ahead blankly, obviously enraged about the ordeal. "That was Umbridge's detention..." She answered through gritted teeth.

"More like torture..." Ron grumbled bitterly. I gently brushed my fingers over the menacing words on Harry's skin, flinching when he let out a sharp gasp of pain. They were deep wounds even though they were thin, likely slicing through the tiny nerves that rested under the layer of flesh on the top of his hand.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, I gently lowered Harry's hand and let go of it. "I agree with Ron...she has no right to do this, Harry! It's unethical, in every way imaginable. There is no way any of the professors here, or even the Ministry, would approve of this as an acceptable form of punishment. You need to go to Dumbledore about what Umbridge is doing." I told him firmly, holding his anxious gaze.

"That's what Mione told him," Ginny remarked while walking past the rest of us. Apparently, she had already heard about Harry's injury.

"No, Dumbledore has enough to worry about without my troubles thrown on top of the lot." My friend shook his head adamantly in refusal. I nodded in understanding, deciding to drop the subject for now. It wouldn't do any good to try and force Harry to make a decision at this very moment. Sometimes he could be more stubborn than a hippogriff.

"I'm sorry, Harry..." I whispered, shaking my head sadly, unsure of what else to say.

Late that night, after I got back from meeting Draco in the forest, I fell into a troubled sleep. I can't say my dreams were haunted, exactly... But, I have to admit they were quite frightening. In one specific nightmare, I was in my animagus form, padding down a long marble hallway I had never seen before. It was almost pitch black, save for a few dim lanterns illuminating the path down the onyx corridor. A voice was calling out to me, urging me further on. My heart raced as I followed the sound through what seemed to be an endless tunnel, my claws scraping over the smooth surface and tail whipping through the air behind me.