Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“Good evening, Mr. Potter. ”

Harry hurried back and he didn't notice her at first.

Because she was wearing a long hug with a flaming print and the color blended with the tablecloth on the desk behind her, she couldn't tell.

“I, uh, good evening, Professor Umbridge.” Harry said unnaturally.

“All right, sit down!” She said, with a habitual fake smile on her face, pointing to a small table hanging by the flowers.

She had put a straight back chair next to her, and there was a blank parchment on the table, apparently for him.

“Um!” Harry said, not moving, "Well, Professor Umbridge, um, before we get started, I, uh, wanted to ask you one thing. ”

“Oh, what?” Her outwardly protruding eyes narrow.

“Well, I'm a Gryffindor Quidditch player. I'm supposed to be picking up a new goalie this Friday at 5: 00 p.m., and I don't know if I can stop by that night and make it up for another night.” Harry finished his mouth and looked at Umbridge's expression, adding anxiously, "Or you can fine him for another day...”

His voice is getting lower and lower because Umbridge's appearance tells him it won't work.

“Oh, no, Mr. Potter, it's not a negotiation or a deal.” Umbridge said, grinning at his big mouth like he had just swallowed a particularly delicious, juicy fly, "Oh, no, no, no, no. This is a punishment for spreading evil, despicable, spoiled lies, which, of course, Mr. Potter, cannot be arbitrarily adjusted to accommodate the convenience of those who are at fault. No, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday, you have to be here at 5: 00 p.m., locked up as planned. I think it's a good thing that you missed some of the activities that you particularly liked, and it should reinforce the lessons I intend to teach you so that you can fully recognize your mistakes. ”

Harry felt blood rushing into his head, buzzing in his ears.

Listen to her, he spreads evil, despicable, spoiled lies before coming to punish you.

But he's telling the truth. He told the truth!

Umbridge looked at Harry slightly against his head and still had a fleshy smile on his face.

She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see if he would have another attack and yell.

He seems to be making a silent provocation, see if he dares to do so?

Harry really wants to yell out or jump on it, there are only two of them here...

He went to great lengths to turn his eyes away from her and left his bag sitting next to that straight back chair.

“Not bad, Mr. Potter! Looks like punishment has worked, 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 feather pen.” Umbridge said softly, seeing Harry bend over to open the bag, she quickly added, "You're going to use a very unusual pen of mine, here. ”

She handed him the elongated, particularly sharp black quill on the table.

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

“How many times?” Harry asked, also making a praiseworthy and courteous appearance.

“Oh, keep writing that in your heart.” Umbridge whispered, “Start writing. ”

She sat down at her desk and buried her head against a pile of parchment paper, looking like a bunch of papers awaiting approval.

Harry lifted a sharp black quill to find out what was missing.

“You didn't give me ink.” He said.

“Oh, you don't need ink.” Professor Umbridge said there was a slightly shallow smile in his voice.

Harry dropped the tip of the quill on the paper and wrote: I can't lie.

The next second, he breathed a breath of cold air.

Words appearing on parchment appear to be written in bright red ink.

At the same time, the line appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, and she fell deep into the flesh, as if carved with an anatomical knife. However, just as he opened his eyes to these bright red wounds, the skin healed again, and the place where the word appeared was only slightly redder than before, but it was smooth to touch.

Harry turned around to see Umbridge. She was staring at him, and that wide toad-like mouth turned into a smile.

“What's the matter? ”

“It's nothing," Harry said softly.

He looked down at the parchment paper and dropped his tip on it again, writing down that I could not lie.

Once again he felt a burning pain in the back of his hand, the words engraved into his skin again.

After a few seconds, the wound healed again at a rate visible to the naked eye.

So Harry wrote this line over and over again on parchment paper.

He soon found out that he was using not ink, but his own blood.

Over and over again, these words were engraved into the back of his hand and then healed.

Then, when he drops the tip on parchment again, the words appear again.

Minutes and seconds go by, about half an hour goes by, and it's been like centuries for Harry.

He bit his teeth and did not want to show a trace of weakness.

Even if he's going to sit here all night, use this quill to cut his hands deep apart.

dong dong dong dong, knocking on the door for a while.

“Come in.” Umbridge shouted tirelessly, and Harry stopped to look at the door.

Then his eyes opened wide and he couldn't believe that Ivan walked in.

“Good evening, Professor Umbridge!” Ivan stopped at once, too!

He swallowed the saliva, and the decoration of the room gave him a goosebump all over his body. It was horrible, which reminded him of the mix of Mrs. Partridge's teahouse and Aunt Harry's house, bright red everywhere.

Even Umbridge's fire red print cuddle seems to melt in with the surrounding area.

Immediately afterwards, he saw Harry sitting next to the table staring at himself, and he was out of line with everything here.

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

“I invited Mr. Mason over for tea, and I'd like to talk to the school's new president.” Umbridge said with a smile, "Please continue, Mr. Potter, never mind the two of us. ”

That said, Harry was still focused on what they were going to say.

He doesn't know how Ivan got here, but he's having tea with Umbridge. Is Ivan crazy?!

Or did they reach some kind of compromise?

Umbridge walked to a round tea table next to the stove fire with prepared tea and pastries.

“Come here, Mr. Mason, don't stand there.” She said enthusiastically, wide-mouthed into a smile, indicating that Ivan was sitting across from him, "I've wanted to talk to you for a long time. ”

“Well, can't we ask Harry to join us?” Ivan asked, measuring the quill in Harry's hand.

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

“No, this is not possible, Mr. Potter must be taken seriously when being punished and confined to copying.” She took out her wand and waved it, a magic that prevented others from eavesdropping around the tea table, and Harry couldn't hear a thing.