three | 03.
PAINFUL PUNISHMENTS.

The other students' chatter echoed down the stone corridors as they filed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, some muttering under their breaths about Professor Umbridge's absurd rules.

Marietta lingered behind for a moment, dreading the inevitable confrontation awaiting her. With a sigh, she adjusted the strap of her bag and made her way to Umbridge's office.

Harry Potter was already waiting by the door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. His gaze lifted when he saw her approach, and he offered a tight-lipped smile. "Hey."

Marietta stopped in her tracks, fixing him with an icy stare. "I blame you for this," she said flatly, her voice curt. "If you hadn't gone off about You-Know-Who, she would've forgotten all about me."

Harry's faint smile faded, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "So, you're one of the ones who think I'm lying, then."

Marietta could see the faint crease between his brows, the subtle shift in his expression as though he had just sized her up and found her lacking. It stung more than she cared to admit, but she forced herself not to show it.

She had bigger things to worry about—like her mother. If Marietta ended up on Umbridge's bad side, what would it mean for her mother's position in the Ministry? The thought alone made her head ache.

"I think..." Marietta hesitated, her voice softening as she chose her words carefully. "I think you should let Cedric rest in peace."

The air between them grew heavier. Harry's jaw tightened, and the flicker of irritation in his eyes flared into something closer to outrage. Marietta didn't wait for his response. She didn't want to hear it.

Turning abruptly, she opened the door to Umbridge's office and stepped inside, shutting the conversation out behind her.

"Good evening, Miss Edgecombe, Mr. Potter," came Professor Umbridge's honeyed voice. That ever-present smile stretched across her face, so wide it bordered on grotesque. "Sit."

Marietta's skin prickled with apprehension, but she complied, choosing the chair to the left while Harry sat on the right.

    Both of them placed their bags at their sides, their postures stiff and cautious.

"You two will be doing some lines for me today." Umbridge announced.

Relief washed over Marietta, so sudden and overwhelming that she nearly let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Writing lines? That was nothing. Child's play.

She reached into her bag for her inkpot and quill, but Umbridge's hand shot up, stopping her mid-motion.

"Oh no, not with your quill." Umbridge said, her smile tautening ever so slightly. "You'll be using a rather special one of mine."

She leaned across her desk, picking up two quills that gleamed an unnatural shade of blood red. The silver tips glinted ominously in the dim light of the room.

    Marietta reluctantly took hers, turning it over in her hand. The smooth, cold surface of the quill felt wrong somehow.

"Now," Umbridge began, settling back into her seat with an air of satisfaction. "For Miss Edgecombe, I want you to write, 'I will respect authority.'" Her gaze lingered on Marietta, watching her every move.

Marietta looked down at the blank sheet of parchment in front of her, her stomach knotting as she avoided Umbridge's stinging gaze.

"And for Mr. Potter," Umbridge continued, "I want you to write, 'I must not tell lies.'"

Harry swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "How many times?" He asked, his tone guarded, wary.

Umbridge chuckled softly, lifting a delicate teacup to her lips. "Oh, let's say... for as long as it takes for the message to sink in."

Marietta's brow furrowed as her gaze flicked to Harry. His jaw was clenched so tightly she wondered if he might crack a tooth.

    What on earth did Umbridge mean by that?

She glanced back down at her parchment, fidgeting with the strange quill in her hand. "There's no ink." She pointed out, holding the quill up for inspection.

"Oh, you won't need any ink." Umbridge took another sip of her tea.

Marietta looked at Harry again, and for the briefest moment, their eyes met. His expression was set, determined, but there was a shadiness in his gaze, a flicker of something darker.

She inhaled sharply, her breath hitching as she pressed the quill to the parchment. The words came slowly at first, each letter carefully shaped:

    I will respect authority. I will respect authority.

Her hand hesitated, but she forced herself to continue, the soft scratching of the quill filling the stifling stillness of Umbridge's office.

The stinging sensation came next, intense and unexpected, lancing through her hand. She winced, jerking slightly in her seat. When she glanced down, her heart nearly stopped.

The words she had written were now etched into her skin, vivid and red.

    Her blood glistened in the faint candlelight as the carved letters began to fade, leaving a dull ache in their wake.

Marietta's lips parted in shock, but no sound came out. Her fingers trembled as she touched the back of her hand, her stomach contorting at the sight.

"Is there a problem, you two?" The older woman's gaze never left her teacup as she stirred lazily, the faint chime of the spoon against porcelain being the only sound.

Marietta swallowed the bile rising in her throat. "Nothing." She muttered, her voice barely audible as she tore her gaze away from her injured hand.

"Continue, then."

Marietta's fingers tightened around the quill, her knuckles white as she returned to her task.

    Each stroke of the quill carved the phrase deeper into her skin, the sharp pain growing more unbearable with every repetition.

The words reappeared again and again, angrier this time, bleeding freely by the time she reached the bottom of the parchment.

Her hand was shaking violently when she finally finished. The carved words weren't fading anymore. Blood pooled in the grooves of the letters, smearing across her skin with every slight movement. She clenched her jaw, biting back the urge to cry out.

At last, Professor Umbridge rose from her chair, her movements deliberate and slow. She picked up their parchments, scanning them with a pleased smirk. "That will be enough for this evening." She announced.

Her smile widened as she looked up at their pale faces. "You are free to go. I will see you next week, and we'll see if we can get the message to sink in a bit deeper."

Marietta didn't need to be told twice. She shot to her feet, flinging the door open so forcefully it slammed against the wall.

She stumbled into the corridor, the pain in her hand blurring her thoughts. It was a searing, relentless agony that consumed her every sense.

"Marietta, wait!"

Harry's voice rang out behind her, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. Marietta turned on her heel, fury surging through her like fire.

"This is all your fault!" She shouted, her voice breaking with anger and pain.

    Her eyes burned as she watched him falter, taking an involuntary step back.

"No, don't you see?" Harry shot back, his voice strained but insistent. "Don't let her win. Don't give her the satisfaction!"

Marietta groaned loudly, the sound guttural and raw as she clenched her uninjured hand into a fist. Her vision swam with tears she refused to let fall.

"I see why no one wants to be associated with you. All you bring is trouble." She spat, malice dripping from every word. Her voice cracked, but she didn't care. "Leave me alone."

Before Harry could respond, she turned and broke into a jog.

The ache in her hand pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of what had just happened.

    She pressed forward, ignoring the stabbing pain and the growing tightness in her chest.

Her jog turned into a run, her robes billowing behind her as she raced through the empty halls. By the time she reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, she was sprinting, her breath ragged, and her face flushed.

She whispered the answer to the eagle-shaped knocker and threw herself inside, collapsing against the nearest wall.

    Tears spilled down her cheeks unbidden as she stared at the cruel words carved into her skin.

Professor Umbridge was a monster, Marietta thought bitterly.

    And now she had made an enemy of her.

END OF CHAPTER III.