HP Magic Biography

How are you feeling, Harry?

What are you referring to? If it was the goalkeeper selection match last night, I regret it. Harry bowed his head back, and then naturally retracted his left hand. He had to admit that Umbridge's method was still very good. Cleverly, there was nothing left on Harry's hands except for some red marks.

In fact, today was another bad day for Harry, he had done the worst in Transfiguration and he hadn't practiced the Vanishing Charm at all.

Then he gave up lunch again to complete the botanical map. Meanwhile, Professors McGonagall, Professor Sputrow, and Professor Traunie gave them a bunch of homework that Harry wasn't going to finish that night.

And because he was going to Umbridge for a second detention tonight. Finally, on the way to dinner with him, Angelina told him that tomorrow the whole team will have a training session before the new players arrive. And Harry didn't expect him to escape Umbridge's confinement tomorrow.

I'm in detention, Harry yells as Angelina walks away with him. Do you think I'd rather be locked in that old Toad's room or play Quidditch with you?

Just writing, Hermione reassured, Harry spread out on the bench looking at the sliced ​​meat and pie, he didn't have much appetite.

It's not some terrible punishment, really.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again, and just nodded. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Ron, Valin and Hermione what happened in Umbridge's room.

He just hoped that people didn't think he was as scared. It just makes the whole thing worse and more embarrassing.

He had a vague feeling that he and Umbridge were going to have a secret war, so he decided not to complain to Hermione.

Is he just treating you like this? Fan Lin said uncertainly. In fact, he couldn't guarantee how Umbridge would treat Harry. What he didn't see with his own eyes couldn't be counted as established.

Oh, of course...it's just a hassle, Harry said quickly.

I'm full, maybe I should go there earlier and finish the copying, so that I can spare time to finish my homework. Harry gulped two mouthfuls indiscriminately and left in a hurry.

In fact, the second confinement was just as bad as the first, and the skin on the backs of the hands slowly began to turn red and inflamed.

Harry thought it might not heal for a long time.

Soon, the incision was deeply engraved on his hand,

And Umbridge, perhaps, would be content. She never breathed a loud gasp in the room, however, nor did he utter a word during his confinement, other than good evening and good night.

Harry had an insane amount of homework, and when he returned to the Gryffindor common room, tired and eager to go to bed, he opened his book and began writing Snape's assignment about the Moon. Stone Dust Papers.

It was 2:30 in the morning when he finished writing. He knew he was pitiful, but it was of no use; unless he was then locked up by Snape.

Then he quickly wrote the answers to Professor McGonagall's questions, and clumsily revised the papers assigned by Professor Sputrow. As for Professor Traunie's diary, he hoped that he could have a good dream.

Harry tidied up what he saw, then staggered back to bed, and fell asleep as soon as he put on his pajamas.

Thursday passed in fatigue.

Ron seemed sleepy too, although Harry didn't know why. Harry's third confinement was exactly the same as the first two, except that after 2 hours, the words I can't lie still didn't disappear from the back of Harry's hand, and it stayed on it, dripping blood .

Pausing to continue writing caused Professor Umbridge to come over and take a look.

Ah, she said softly, circling the table to examine him and his wand. Okay. This should remind you, shouldn't it? You can go tonight.

Am I coming again tomorrow? Hallinin said as he picked up his schoolbag with his left hand rather than his sensitive right.

Oh, of course, said Professor Umbridge, smiling wider. Yes, I think tomorrow night's work will impress my message on you even more.

Harry had never imagined that there could be a more hated teacher than Snape, but as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower it occurred to him that there was someone worse than Snape.

She's terrible! Harry cursed inwardly, as he climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, she's very evil, loathsome, crazy old—

Ron? He reached the top of the stairs, turned right and came across Ron, lurking behind a statue of a knight, clutching the handle of his broomstick.

He jumped up in surprise when he saw Harry, and then tried to put his sweeping star behind his back.

What are you doing?

Huh? Nothing? What are you doing here? Harry asked, frowning. Come on, you gotta tell me! What are you doing hiding here?

I'm... I'm avoiding Fred and George, if you must know, said Ron, they just walked past a bunch of first-years. I bet they're experimenting with first-years. My Meaning, they can't do experiments in the common room right now, no, Hermione isn't here.

But what are you doing with your broomstick, you can't fly with it here, can you? Harry asked.

I... well... well, well, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, okay? Ron said in a shy tone, his face turning red slowly, little by little. I... I think I've been Gryffindor Keeper and now I have a decent broomstick. That's it. Go ahead. Laugh.

I'm not laughing, said Harry. Ron blinked. This is fantastic! Are you actually in the team, that's cool! I've never seen you as a goalkeeper, are you doing well?

I... I'm not too bad, Ron said.

Ron looked very, very relieved by Harry's reaction. Charlie, Frederick, George always call me goalkeeper when they train in the summer.

So you were practicing last night?

Every night except Tuesday, just doing what I can, that's all. I put a spell on the Quaffle to make it come at me, but it's not easy and I don't know how useful it is. Ron looked Both restless and eager.

Fred and George will be ashamed after my tryouts, and they've been saying I'm too proud ever since I became a prefect.

I wish I was there, said Harry bitterly, as they left the common room together.

Yes, that's right - what's on the back of your hand? Harry just raised his right hand to hide it, but Ron still spotted it.

Just a small wound... nothing... it's...

She only wants you to write?