Till The End | h.p

cruelty

The next day, Harry seems perfectly fine as they walk into Defense Against the Dark Arts. He's talking and laughing as usual, but Sam feels distant from him and he feels it as well. He opens his mouth to talk to her, but she goes and sits next to Hermione, as he sits down with Ron. Umbridge, who is again wearing all pink, begins to walk down the stairs from her office to the class and their chattering stops.

"Good morning, children."

She begins to write on the chalkboard using her wand, "Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. O-W-Ls. More commonly known as OWLs. Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe."

She flicks her wand and stacks of books begins to maneuver around the room, dropping two on each desk for each student.

"Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But you'll be pleased to know, from now on you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic."

Sam reads the label of the book in front of her which reads, 'Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners. Next to her, Hermione raises her hand.

"Yes?" Umbridge asks.

"There's nothing in here about using defensive spells?" Hermione wonders.

"Using spells?" Umbridge gives a very high pitched laugh, giving Sam's screams a run for their money, "Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."

Ron looks at her inquisitively, "We're not gonna use magic?"

"You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

Harry scoffs lightly, "Well, what use is that? If we're attacked, it won't be risk-free."

Umbridge interrupts him quickly, "Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class. It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which after all, is what school is all about."

"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Sam asks abruptly.

"There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe Lord Voldemort," Harry says sarcastically.

Everyone whispers among themselves as Umbridge looks slightly shocked before giving a smile with a hint of fear, "Now, let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It's not a lie. I saw him. I fought him!" Harry blurts.

She turns quickly and shouts, "Detention, Mr. Potter!"

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" Sam asks aggressively.

"Your hand is not raised, Miss..." she looks at Sam waiting for her answer.

"Black."

"I see, any relation to mass murderer, Sirius Black?"

The class gives quite gasps at her choice of words, to which she gives a seemingly polite smile.

"Absolutely," Sam gives a menacing grin.

"Hmm, Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him," Sam blurts.

"Enough!" Umbridge shouts, "Enough. See me later, Mr. Potter, Miss Black. My office."

After their classes, Sam and Harry head to the Dark Arts classroom for detention when he stops her.

"You didn't have to get detention for me," he says.

Without looking at him or stopping she responds, "I didn't do it for you."

"Sam, wait."

She strides into her office to see that everything from the rugs to the furniture to the walls is pink. Her walls are lined with plates that have individual moving cats on them that are either purring or meowing. Professor Umbridge stands up from her desk as she sees them enter.

"Good evening, Miss Black, Mr. Potter. Sit."

Sam sits down in one of the two chairs followed by Harry when Umbridge continues, "You're going to be doing some lines for me today."

Sam begins to pull out her quill, "No, not with your quill. With some very special ones of mine."

She places two quills on the desk next to the already laid out parchment, "Now, Mr. Potter, I want you to write, 'I must not tell lies.' And Miss Black," she leans down so that only Sam can hear.

Sam looks up at her with a mixture of shock, disgust and pain. Umbridge smiles and sits back down at her desk. Harry looks at her curiously, but Sam doesn't look his way.

"How many times?" Sam spits like venom.

"Well, let's say for as long as it takes for the message to sink in."

Harry looks away from Sam and at the professor, "You haven't given us any ink."

"You won't need any ink."

A look of confusion crosses their faces, but they begin to write their lines which show up in red ink. Without even finishing the first line, Sam and Harry both feel a scratching pain on the tops of their hands. As Sam finishes her first line, she looks at her hand to see something scratching, in her handwriting, her statement into her skin. She looks over at Harry's hand to see the same thing. They both look up at Umbridge, who simply asks, "Yes?"

"Nothing," Sam states as she tries to control her rage.

"That's right. Because you both know, deep down, you deserve to be punished. Go on," she nods for them to keep going.

They continue to write and try desperately to withhold their noises of pain. Sam fights hard not to lose control. Once they're both finished, they leave her office. Sam walks quickly ahead of Harry and he grabs onto her arm.

"Wait, let me see."

He gently reaches for her hand and holds it up to check the damage, but the words he reads make his heart drop.

'I will only be a killer.'

He looks at her bloodshot eyes, "Sam-"

She jerks her hand out of his and begins to walk away again, but he rushes after her, "No. I'm sorry about last night, but you're not going to push me away, right now."

"What? Like you did?" She spits out in anger and pain, "I'm trying desperately not to lose control right now, so let me go."

He gently grabs her injured hand and places it on his shoulder as he grips her waist. She looks at him with confusion, but he takes her other hand in his and begins to sway. She lets out a breath of amusement, but sways with him anyway. After a few moments, she pulls away.

"We need to go back to the common room," she notes, looking at the floor.

"You won't be, Sam."

She looks at him curiously.

"You won't be a killer. We look after each other right?"

She smiles, "Till the end."