Metathesiophobia | H. Potter [3]

4 | hog's head

The following week had gone by much slower than Abigail would have liked. Her hand was deeply scared and she was almost certain it would never heal completely. If she moved her hand or tensed it too much, the scab would re-open and start bleeding again. She found that Murtlap helped with the pain but there was only so much it could do.

Abigail scratched around the scar in order to avoid reopening it as she arrived in the corridor where she found McGonagall and Umbridge arguing and students watching on.

"Pardon me, Professor," Umbridge began, "but what exactly are you insinuating?"

"I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students...you conform to the prescribed disciplinary practices."

"So silly of me, but it sounds-" she took a step up, "-as if you're questioning my authority in my own classroom...Minerva."

"Not at all, Dolores, merely your medieval methods," McGonagall explained and she took a step up herself.

"I am sorry, dear. But to question my practices is to question the Ministry and by extension, the minister himself," she pointed out, "I am a tolerant woman but the one thing I will not stand for is disloyalty."

"Disloyalty," McGonagall repeated and she took a step down.

"Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action," she narrowed her eyes and Umbridge addressed the entirety of the room as she read a sheet of paper aloud, "Having already revolutionized the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dolores Umbridge will, as high inquisitor, have powers to address the seriously falling standards at Hogwarts School."

Abigail crossed her arms over her chest as the women walked down the steps, narrowing her eyes as she passed by the students. McGonagall smoothed out her clothes and walked off to her classroom, leaving the students to whisper amongst themselves.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked from behind Abigail.

"Nothing good."

-

"We've got to be able to defend ourselves," Hermione exclaimed, "And if Umbridge refuses to teach us how, we need someone who will."

"And who's that?" Abigail inquired.

"Harry." At first, Abigail was surprised but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

"That's mad," Harry shook his head. "Who'd wanna be taught by me? I'm a nutter, remember?"

"Look on the bright side: you can't be any worse than old toad face," Ron pointed out.

"Thanks, Ron."

Ron patted Harry on the back, "I'm here for you, mate."

"Just think about it, okay?" Hermione requested. "There's an upcoming Hogsmeade weekend coming up. A group of us could meet up and...Just think about it."

Hermione stood up and dragged Ron off with her, leaving Harry and Abigail alone.

"How's your hand?" Harry spoke up after a while and Abigail raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think I would notice?" He held up his own hand, "Same thing happened to me, you know."

"I knew you would notice," Abigail countered. "I just didn't think that would be the first question you would ask." She held up her hand to show him the scarring, "Could be worse."

He grabbed her hand and held it gently in his own as he examined it, "Have you been using M-"

"Murtlap?" she finished for him, "Since the end of the first week. After awhile, I got used to the pain."