[HP] The Curse of Harry Potter and Slytherin

Harry thought that the mutual dislike between him and Snape was called hatred, but after going to Umbridge for a confinement, he was surprised to find that his hatred for a person could reach a new high, and with Umbridge Compared with that vicious woman like Mbridge, Snape could be regarded as a moderate.

Umbridge "kindly" told Harry that he could choose which three days of detention he would spend, and Harry decided to make a quick decision.

From Tuesday night until Thursday, he had to stay in Umbridge's office so he could make it to Gryffindor's Quidditch team keeper trials on Friday.

At five minutes to eight on Tuesday night, he said goodbye to Ron and Hermione with a morose face and headed for Umbridge's office.

He knocked on the door, and heard a coquettish voice shouting, "Come in." Harry quietly shook his goosebumps, and walked in cautiously.

Although Umbridge's taste could be seen from her dress, Harry was still taken aback by the decoration in this office at this time.

Everything was covered with a lace drapery, several vases filled with dried flowers were scattered on individual cushions, with bright lace ribbons tied around their bellies, and a set of decorative plates hung on one wall. , each plate contained a big brightly colored cat with bows of different colors around its neck... Standing in this room full of strong discord with its owner, Harry couldn't help but feel a little nauseous.

"Come here, Mr. Potter." Umbridge stood beside a small table with lace and waved to him with a smile.

Harry walked over and put down his schoolbag.A hardwood straight-backed chair stood beside the table, on which lay a blank piece of parchment, apparently intended for him.

"What am I going to do?" Harry asked after sitting down.

"Oh, it's very simple. I want you to write a few sentences for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with your quill," she added hastily, seeing Harry reach into his bag. A pen I made just for you. Here." She handed Harry a quill that glowed black and had a knife-sharp tip.

"I want you to write: I can't lie." Her voice was soft, but Harry couldn't miss the deep malice hidden in the words.

Yeah?Just because he told the truth in class, telling everyone that Voldemort was back?Harry thought sarcastically, this woman really treats them like three-year-olds, what kind of punishment is this?Copy the sentence!She probably thought that by asking Harry to write it a few more times, he would really believe that she was lying.

Harry decided to comply with this childish request, he looked up like a good baby and asked, "How many times?"

"Oh, keep writing until the words are engraved in your heart." Umbridge smiled at him sweetly, as if he had other meanings.

Harry watched her turn and sit down at the large desk.He frowned suspiciously, raised the sharp black quill, and realized that something was missing.

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

"No, you don't need ink," Umbridge looked at him with interest, resting his chin, "write."

Harry dropped the tip of his quill on the parchment and wrote: I must not lie.

He gasped in pain.The words that appeared on the parchment looked like they were written in blood.At the same time, this line of words appeared on the back of his hand as if carved with a knife, which made him almost cry out in pain.

He turned to look at Umbridge, who was watching him, a satisfied and excited smile on that HAMA face.

"What's the matter, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked down. The skin on his hand had healed after he finished writing, but he remembered the burning pain.

"Nothing." He said softly.

Only then did he realize that he was completely wrong. This woman was not some naive and harmless scorpion HAMA, she was simply a cruel and cruel poisonous spider.The Ministry of Magic sent such a person to teach students, how could Dumbledore agree!

He looked down at Umbridge, dropped the tip of his pen to the parchment again, and wrote "I must not lie."

The pain was on the back of his hand again, and he had made up his mind to ignore it.He knew that Umbridge was watching him, waiting for him to beg for mercy... Harry's fighting spirit was completely provoked, and these cowards from the Ministry of Magic would only cover up the truth, but they would never make him submit!

In this way, Harry wrote the line on the parchment over and over again.He had a feeling that the parchment was sucking his blood. Although the wound would heal after each writing, the blood did not return to his body as the wound healed. There was a tiny part of the blood that would last forever. left on the parchment.

Vicious woman... Trash... Despicable... Evil... Harry cursed fiercely in his heart as he wrote, and after some hours, Umbridge said to him, "Come here, Mr. Potter."

When Harry got up, he glanced at the back of his hand, and found that those wounds could no longer heal without any traces as they did at the beginning, the skin was red and tender flesh was exposed.

Standing in front of Umbridge, he tried to remember Snape's disgusted expression when he looked at him, and imitated Snape's way and stared at her coldly, not wanting to lose his momentum.

"It was a sweet evening, Mr Potter." Umbridge took his hand and held it in front of his eyes for a closer look.Harry felt the hair on his back explode instantly, and he pulled out his hand violently.

Umbridge allowed him to withdraw his hand, still with a cloyingly sweet smile on his face.She tutted, "It's hard to say goodbye—but we still have two nights, don't we?"

Abnormal, disgusting!Harry cursed silently inwardly.He tried his best to restrain his anger, and asked in a calm voice: "Can I go, Professor Umbridge."

"Of course, of course." She looked at him with a smile on her face, "It's good, we are more able to control our emotions, aren't we?"

Without a word, Harry swung his schoolbag over his shoulder and left Umbridge's office.

Wednesday was still a difficult day for Harry.

Professor McGonagall announced in the Transfiguration class that they were going to start learning the Vanishing Curse-this is a high-frequency test site, and it is difficult.

Harry took a lot of difficult and obscure notes, but he still didn't figure out what Don Woodnard's Law said. As long as an object can be transformed, the object must be destroyed?Or as long as the item can be destroyed, then the item must be transferred to the temporary space?

In the last 10 minutes of practice time, none of the class could successfully cast the Vanishing Charm, except for Hermione who made her practice snail slightly transparent.

The Protection of Magical Creatures class was still taught by Professor Graplan, and Hagrid still hadn't returned.

Professor Graplan introduces them to the Bowtruckle, an ugly, bark-like, dry creature with long, sharp nails that they need to take a closer look at and hand in a label for the next class A sketch of the names of the body parts of the Bowtruckle.

After lunch, Hermione went to the ancient rune class, and Harry and Ron came to the tower for a divination class.

Harry felt his eyelids drooping at the thought of meeting Professor Trelawney, who was cryptic and endlessly predicting Harry's death, and sitting in that room full of weird incense for two lectures.To his surprise, Ron also looked sleep deprived.

"Are you..." Harry opened his mouth, but didn't know how to ask.Did you do something secretly behind our backs at night?No, that's not quite right.

But Ron understood what he meant when he saw his eyes.He patted Harry on the shoulder reassuringly and yawned again.

"It's nothing, Harry. I just wanted to—" Ron stopped talking, but Harry noticed that the tips of his ears were red.

"What's the matter?" he wanted to ask, but Ron cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It's not a big deal. Let's talk about it after you finish the confinement on Thursday. By the way," Ron suddenly remembered something, and asked, "I forgot to ask this morning. What did Umbridge tell you to do?"

"Ah, that's nothing." Harry pursed his lips and hid his left hand in his sleeve. "She told me...to write sentences."

"That's bearable. I'm going to tell Hermione later that she's been worried," Ron said, visibly relieved, before adding cheerfully, "it'd be a lot of fun if she made Goyle write sentences." gone."

He imitated Gore's clumsy look, with a constipated expression, and said in a low voice: "I——can—fight—"

As he spoke he laughed, and Harry laughed too.