Chapter 940 Black Quill

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry turned his head so quickly that he didn't notice her at first.

Because she was wearing a fiery red and dazzling printed long sleeve, the color blended with the tablecloth on the desk behind her, and it was almost indistinguishable.

"I, um, good evening, Professor Umbridge," said Harry awkwardly.

"Well, sit down!" she said, with a habitual smirk, pointing to a small table with lace.

She had placed a straight chair beside her, and on the desk was a blank piece of parchment, apparently intended for him.

"Hmm!" said Harry without moving. "Well, Professor Umbridge, um, before we start, I, um, I want to ask you one thing."

"Oh, what?" Her bulging eyes narrowed.

"Well, I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm supposed to be trying out the new Keeper at five o'clock this Friday afternoon, and I don't know if I can skip detention that night and find another one." I'll make it up tonight." Harry finished speaking in one breath, looked at Umbridge's expression, and added anxiously, "Or an extra day's fine..."

His voice was getting lower and lower, because Umbridge's appearance told him that it was not going to work.

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter, this is not a negotiation or a deal," said Umbridge, grinning so wide that he seemed to have just swallowed a particularly succulent fly. "Oh, no, No, no. This is your punishment for spreading wicked, base, sensational lies, Mr. Potter, and of course the punishment cannot be adjusted to suit the convenience of the wrongdoer. No, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday, you have to be here at five o'clock in the afternoon, as planned for detention. I think it's actually a good thing that you're missing out on some of your favorite activities, and it should reinforce the lesson I'm going to give you to fully understand It's good for you to realize your mistakes."

Harry felt blood rushing to his head and his ears buzzing.

According to her, he had to come here to be punished because he had spread evil, despicable, and grandstanding lies.

But what he said was the truth, and he told the truth!

Umbridge looked at Harry with his head tilted slightly, still with a crooked smile on his face.

She seemed to know exactly what was going on in his mind and was waiting to see if he would do it again, yelling.

That look seems to be a silent provocation, let's see if he dares to do it?

Harry really wanted to just yell like that, or pounce on it, it was just the two of them here...

With great effort, he turned his eyes away from her, threw his schoolbag beside the straight chair and sat down.

"That's right, Mr. Potter! It looks like the punishment has had its effect, and we're more in control of our emotions now, aren't we? Now, you're going to write a few sentences for me. No, not with your quill. said Umbridge coquettishly, and seeing Harry stooping to open his bag, she hastened to add, "It's a very unusual pen of mine that you want, here."

She took the long, thin black quill with a particularly sharp tip on the table and handed it to him.

"Well, I want you to write: I can't lie." She said to him softly, with a smile on her face.

"How many times?" asked Harry, also adopting a commendable air of politeness.

"Oh, keep writing until it's etched in your mind," said Umbridge coquettishly. "Go ahead and write."

She went to her desk and sat down, burying herself in a pile of parchment, which looked like a batch of papers waiting to be graded.

Harry raised the sharp black quill, and only then did he realize what was missing.

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

"Oh, you don't need ink," said Professor Umbridge, with a faint smile in his voice.

Harry dropped the tip of his quill to the paper and wrote: I must not lie.

The next second, he gasped in pain.

The words that appeared on the parchment appeared to be written in bright red ink.

At the same time, this line of writing appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, and it was deeply sunken into the flesh, as if carved with a scalpel. However, when he was staring at these bright red wounds, , The skin healed again, the place where the words were just now was only a little redder than before, but it was smooth to the touch.

Harry turned to look at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth breaking into a smile.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Harry said softly.

He looked down at the parchment, put the tip of his pen on it again, and wrote I must not lie.

He felt the burning pain on the back of his hand again, and the words were etched into his skin again.

A few seconds later, at a speed visible to the naked eye, the wound healed again.

In this way, Harry wrote the line on the parchment over and over again.

He soon discovered that instead of ink, he used his own blood.

Over and over, the words were etched into the back of his hand, and it healed.

Then, when he dropped the tip of his pen on the parchment, the words would appear again.

Minutes and seconds passed, maybe half an hour, but to Harry it seemed like centuries.

He gritted his teeth and said nothing, not wanting to show any weakness.

Even if he's going to sit here all night, cutting his hand deep with this quill.

Boom, boom, boom, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Umri said tiredly, and Harry stopped to look at the door.

Immediately, his eyes widened suddenly, and he saw Ivan walk in in disbelief.

"Good evening, Professor Umbridge!" Ivan was also stunned!

He swallowed, the decoration style of this room immediately gave him goosebumps all over his body, it was really horrible, it reminded him of a mixture of Mrs Puddiffe's teahouse and Uncle and Aunt Harry's house, everywhere It is bright red.

Even Umbridge's fiery red print suit seemed to blend in with the surroundings.

Then, he saw Harry sitting at the table staring at him, he was out of tune with everything here.

"Evan, what are you doing here?" Harry asked subconsciously.

"I invited Mr. Mason over for tea. I want to have a chat with the school's new head of the Boys' Union." Umbridge said with a smile, "Go ahead, Mr. Potter, and don't mind the two of us."

Having said that, Harry was still focused on what the two of them had to say.

He didn't know why Aiwen came here, and even wanted to drink tea with Umbridge. Is Aiwen crazy? !

Or, the two of them reached some kind of compromise.

Umbridge walked to the round tea table next to the fire, on which were prepared tea and pastries.

"Come here, Mr. Mason, don't stand there." She said enthusiastically, her wide mouth turned into a smile, and motioned for Ivan to sit opposite him, "I've wanted to talk to you a long time ago."

"Well, can't we call Harry together?" Ivan asked, looking at the quill in Harry's hand.

Following Ivan's gaze, Umbridge noticed that Harry had been looking here, and shook his head.

"No, this is not allowed. Mr. Potter is being punished for confinement, and he must be serious when copying." She took out her wand and swung it violently, and a magic to prevent others from eavesdropping shrouded the tea table, and Harry couldn't do anything. I can't hear you anymore. 8 For more exciting novels, welcome to visit our Reading Academy