Chapter 851 Umbridge’s Confinement

At five minutes to five o'clock, Harry said goodbye to Fan Lin and set off towards Umbridge's office on the third floor.

In fact, as soon as he left, Harry had an illusion that maybe this confinement trip would be very bad, but since he had something to plead with Umbridge, it was always better to arrive early.

While thinking about it, Harry started running. He came out a little late, but at two minutes, Harry was still standing outside Umbridge's door.

Harry hesitated.

He had just knocked on the door when he heard Umbridge call in a sickly sweet voice, "Come in."

Harry walked in carefully and looked around.

He knew the three original owners of this office.

While Gilderoy Lockhart was here, he boasted about himself all the time. If you visit while Lupine is here, you will see fascinating dark creatures in cages and pools. Fake Moody's time is filled with different instruments and artifacts used to detect false and restricted areas.

Now, everything is different here.

The surface is covered in cloth, several vases are filled with dried flowers, each branch in its own place, and one wall is hung with decorative plates, each painted with a giant colorful kitten wearing a different bow tie around its neck.

This little guy was originally very cute, but after Umbridge treated him to such a pink color, Harry couldn't help but feel chills until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." Harry began to look around. He didn't notice Umbridge at first because she was wearing a horrible patterned robe that blended in with the color of the tablecloth behind her.

"Good evening, Professor Umbridge," Harry said stiffly.

"Okay, sit down," she said, pointing to a small table and a straight-backed chair next to it. There was a piece of black parchment ready for him on the table.

"Well," Harry said without moving, "Professor Umbridge, well, before we start, I would like to ask you if you can grant me a request?"

Umbridge's protruding eyes narrowed, as if she had discovered something interesting. "Oh, what?"

"Well, I'm a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I hope to participate in the goalkeeper tryouts at five o'clock on Friday. I'm wondering if I can skip the lockdown that night and put it on another night instead."

Before he finished speaking, Harry knew something was wrong by looking at Umbridge's expression.

"Oh, no," said Umbridge, laughing so hard that she looked like she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fruit, "Oh, no, no, no, this is your punishment for spreading evil. Dirty, distracting story, Mr. Potter. Punishment, of course, cannot be made easy for those who deserve it. More than that, you must come tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday, and you must be in detention as required. I think you missed you. It’s a good thing to want and it can enhance the effectiveness of the course. ”

Harry felt blood rush to the top of his head and heard a crashing sound in his ears.

"Evil, sordid, distracting stories," was that what he meant?

Umbridge looked at him with her head tilted slightly, still smiling widely. Although she knew what Harry was thinking, she still waited to see if he would yell at her again and risk tragic consequences.

Harry looked away, threw his bag on the chair, and sat down.

"Here," said Umbridge sweetly, "we would get along better if we could control our tempers, wouldn't we? Now, please demonstrate the charm for me, Mr. Potter, and no, not with your pen, ” she added as Harry bent down to open his satchel, “You will use my more special one for you…”

Umbridge said, handing him a slender, black quill with an unusual point.

"I want you to write, I can't lie," she instructed softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked, trying to be polite.

"Oh, write until you remember it," Umbridge said sweetly, "and then go."

She walked over to her desk and sat down, facing a pile of parchment, as if writing a paper. Harry raised the black quill and realized that he seemed to have missed something.

"You didn't give me ink," Harry said.

"Oh, of course, you don't need ink," Professor Umbridge said, the smile in her voice suggesting something.

Harry pressed his quill to the paper and began to write: Can't lie. He felt a pain.

Letters in red ink appeared on the parchment. At the same time, these letters appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, like a scalpel piercing his skin... He even saw obvious cut marks, the skin healed again, the redness was lighter than before, and it was very smooth.

Harry looked at Umbridge and she looked at him. Her wide, obnoxious mouth stretched into a smile.

"What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry said quietly. He looked at the parchment again, placed the quill on it again, wrote "I must not lie," and for a moment felt a searing pain on the back of his hand.

Writing again, the words seemed to have entered his skin; again, they seemed to come out gradually.

As Harry continued to write the words over and over on the parchment, he soon felt his pen running out of ink and being filled with only his own blood. Keep writing, and it seems like the words keep entering the skin and coming out, and they keep appearing on the next line.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. Harry didn't ask when he could stop, he didn't even look at his watch. He seemed to know that she was waiting for him to show signs of tiredness, but Harry showed none. It seemed as if he didn't mind if he was allowed to stay here all night, he just kept opening the parchment and writing with the quill.

"Come here," Umbridge said after several hours.

Harry stood up. His hands still stung. When he lowered his head, he found that the wound had healed, but there was red blood all around the skin.

"hand". she says.

Harry held out his hand.

When she touched Harry's wound with one of her short, thick, disgusting fingers with a ring on them, Harry tried his best not to tremble.

"Tsk! Tsk! I really didn't expect it to have such an impact on you." She said with a smile. "Then, you can continue tomorrow night! You can leave now."

Harry walked out of the office without saying a word. The school was very quiet, it must have been past midnight now. He walked slowly out of the corridor, and when he turned the corner to make sure Umbridge couldn't hear him, Harry started running. He now has no time to practice the disappearing spell, no time to write a diary about his daily dreams, and no time to complete his chart about plants, let alone the paper.

The next morning he skipped breakfast to write some artificial dreams as homework for their first class, Divination, and was surprised to find Ron, also disheveled, beside him.

"Why didn't you do it last night?" Harry asked, while Ron was busy in the spacious common room. Ron fell asleep yesterday as soon as Harry came back.

Ron was muttering, "Something else," while scribbling something on the parchment.

"That's all I have to do," said Ron, slamming the diary shut. "I said I dreamed I was buying a new pair of shoes so she couldn't read anything in them, right?"

They quickly ran to the north building to gather. "How was detention at Umbridge's yesterday? What did she want you to do?"

Harry hesitated for a few seconds and then said

"Write!"

"That doesn't seem so bad, then, eh?" said Ron.

"No more," Harry said.

"Hey - I almost forgot - does she give you Friday off?"

"No." Harry said seriously... (To be continued)