The Beginning of it All
The news of Umbridge being part of the ministry spread like a wildfire with everyone adding fuel to the rumors. It wasn’t, to many, the fact that she was a ministry worker, but rather the way she talked to all of the students as if they were kindergarteners. Even before anyone had her class, there were new things being said about her that no one could possibly believe were true. It was insane.
Hermione was introduced to her teaching style after two full days back at Hogwarts. It was the first time ever that Hermione Granger was not looking forward to a class of hers, especially one as important as Defense Against the Dark Arts. There was a sort of dread within Hermione’s heart as she trudged to her seat, her normal swotty attitude very much diminished. She should have realized the fact that there was no book listed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts meant that something was going to be off about the class. She should have realized the second she saw the blank space next to the class on her supplies list.
She sat in her normal second-row seat across the aisle from Harry and Ron. She took in Harry’s drawn face. He was in a mood again. He had been in one that seemed neverending since he came to Headquarters at the end of the summer. She had felt bad about not telling him what was going on, but Dumbledore had said it was best if he did not know. It made sense to some degree. Harry would have immediately wanted to join in and start fighting, but they were still kids. The only reason she had been there was because she had been staying with the Weasleys for the summer again. She doubted that she would have known what was happening if she hadn't been. Hermione did not believe that it was entirely fair to Harry to be kept in the dark about all of the meetings. He deserved to know what was being said about him and about Dumbledore, and for that reason, she wished he had been included.
Hermione looked over at Harry again and raised her eyebrow questioningly. He gave her an eye roll and said, “Seamus. I’ll tell you later.” She nodded her understanding. It was a loud classroom at the moment. She doubted anyone would actually be able to hear their conversation over the ruckus of everyone else, but she understood that his words meant that he wanted privacy when he told her. Hermione turned her attention from her two friends and back to what was happening around her in the classroom.
The Patil twins had made a lovely paper dove and were flying it around the classroom. All the girls in the room were looking at it joyfully and oohing and ahhing over it while all of the boys were shooting random spells and trying to jump and catch it. She had to laugh at everything that was happening. This was one of the times that she really loved the people in her year. Infectious laughter surrounded her. She watched as the Slytherin boys all tried to get the dove but to no avail. They laughed and poked at each other as it flew over their heads unharmed.
Everyone seemed to be free, at that moment, from everything that normally weighed upon them. At this point, it had been years since they had a normal Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, no offense to Lupin. It was just that the job seemed cursed. Last year they had a death eater pretending to be Professor Moody. The man had performed dark curses in class including the unforgivables. He had even turned a student into a ferret. It was reasonable for any student to be concerned about their next teacher. But at this moment as laughter filled the sunny room, there was no anxiety or fear for the woman who would be entering soon. At that moment, they were all being kids.
Everyone went silent in an instant when the pretty, snow-white dove was hit with an incendio. The whole class watched as what had been a welcome distraction came down from its flight, burning and turning to ash.
“Good morning students,” came a sickly fake sweet voice. Everyone turned to see Professor Umbridge with her wand still in position from where she had shot the dove down. No one said a word as they watched her move forward. No one had responded to her good morning either because of their horror at the burning of the dove. The woman in pink tsked as she raised her eyebrows. Her sickly sweet smile was still plastered to her face when she said, “When I say ‘Good morning, students’, you must respond with ‘Good morning, professor’. Many of you have been raised with manners. It is simply the polite and proper thing to do.” She looked around at all the unhappy faces that were looking at her. “Now shall we try that again? Good morning, students.”
Hermione inwardly groaned but joined her classmates in a completely unenthusiastic, “Good morning, professor.” Umbridge gave her little giggle. “Wonderful. Now you all are here to learn for your Outstanding Wizarding Levels or as they are more commonly known as O.W.L.s.” She waved her wand and writing appeared on the chalkboard. She moved her wand again, and the books that had been sitting on the teacher’s desk began to whoosh across the room and plop in front of every student. Hermione immediately began to flip through the book. It was childish from the front of the cover to the material that was inside. It wasn’t even fit for a first year. Hermione raised her hand. She noticed that Umbridge looked at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn't call on her. Umbridge swept the room with her eyes before finally calling on Hermione.
“Yes, Miss Granger?”
“There is nothing in here about using defensive spells or even the wand movements.”
“That is correct, Miss Granger. There is no reason for you or your classmates to ever use them. It would simply be not useful, and there is no need. Theories will be sufficient.” Hermione’s eyebrows raised at her professor's response.
“But don’t we need to know for the future and for our N.E.W.T.s?” Hermione questioned.
“Miss Granger, there is no one out there who would hurt children.” Hermione looked over at Harry. She watched as his face got red at that proclamation.
“No one out there who would hurt children?” Harry asked her incredulously. Umbridge looked at him and narrowed her eyes slightly before fixing her face back into its overly sweet plastered on look.
“Correct, Mr. Potter.”
“Are you forgetting about Voldemort?” Harry retorted. This caused Umbridge to pause for just a moment. She looked around at all of the students who were watching the pair. She took on a concerned, motherly look.
“Let me be absolutely clear. You all have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned. But that is a lie.” she said, making sure to look at every single student but Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione watched as Harry’s face got angrier and angrier.
“So Cedric Diggary just dropped dead? Randomly. After a dark wizard who had been a known follower of Voldemort pretended to be Professor Moody entered my name into the tournament and caused a bunch of chaos, including bewitching Victor Krum.” Harry questioned, fury pouring into his words.
“Cedric Diggary’s death was a tragic accident.” Umbridge countered, her smile still plastered on.
“He was murdered. Don’t try and disrespect his death. You think Voldemort isn’t back? I am the one who saw him. I was the one who fought him. I was the one who was cut open by his followers. I was the one who had to see Cedric be killed. I was the one who had to bring back his body.”
“Enough.” Umbridge huffed, irritation creeping into her normally overly-sweet voice. She took a noticeable deep breath. “Detention, my office tonight at 8pm” she finished with a more calm voice.
Hermione watched as the fury continued to grow on Harry’s face as he accepted his fate. Umbridge gave a small little laugh before turning back to the board. “Alright class, turn to page 3 please, and begin reading the first chapter.” She looked over to Hermione when she said, “It will explain why learning theories will be substantial for passing not only your O.W.L.s but also why it will be substantial for your futures.” Hermione gave her a fake smile before moving with the rest of her classmates to open her book. No one made a sound as they began to read.
Hermione quickly read the first chapter. It was a bunch of bullcrap. They didn’t need to learn spells because “no dark wizards were going to attack them,” and it would “be of no use,” and it could “cause harm to others.” She wanted to hit her head against a wall. Why would the ministry worry about defensive spells harming other people? That was not their purpose. She continued to flip through the “theories” and tried to understand how they would end up helping anyone. They were confusing and completely unhelpful to figure anything out. They were vague. Hermione had no idea how something like this was going to help her pass her O.W.L.s. As she was continuing to flip through the book, she felt a pair of eyes on her back, but she did not turn around to see if the feeling was correct.
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Hermione was sitting in the dorm room with Ron, waiting for Harry to get back from detention. She had a bad feeling about his detention. Worry was seeping into her brain as she journaled. It had been almost 2 hours since Harry had left. What on earth could Umbridge be making him do? In that time she had finished reading the Defense against the Dark Arts book twice before giving up on her third time so she had started to write to try and calm her anxiety. The stupid book was too basic and confusing to be used for first years. There was absolutely nothing important or beneficial in them. Sure some theories were great, she could admit that, but they were not for being used. They were ideas, things that might be able to be tested, but were not told how to be tested. It made her angry that this was what she was going to be taught in her 5th year. She needed to know how to defend herself especially with Voldemort being back. She had a big target on her back that was not going to be getting smaller any time soon.
Hermione looked up when she heard the common room door open. She had done so every time so far, hoping it would be Harry and this time it was. She smiled at him and waved. He gave her a small smile in response before grabbing a book out of his bag that he had left on a desk in the common room. He lifted Hermione's legs up from where she had them laid and flopped between her and Ron on the couch. He put her legs on his lap so she was still stretched out. She let out a small laugh before she noticed a mark on Harry’s hand while he held his open book. She peeked over at Ron to see if he noticed Harry’s left hand. Per usual, Ron seemed to be completely clueless. She sighed and both boys looked over at her.
“Harry?”
“Yeah?” he said, continuing to look at her.
“What happened to your hand?”
“Nothing, ‘Mione,” brushing off her concern as he showed her his right hand.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Not that one. The other one.” She said, grabbing his book, closing it, and reaching for his right hand. She gasped in horror when she saw the bloody top of his hand. She took in the carved words: “I must not tell lies.” She took out her wand from her bag that rested on the floor. Muttering a few cleaning and healing spells, she gently brushed over the area. The healing spells had just stopped the blood flow, but would not actually heal the wound. She squeezed his hand gently. “Harry, you have to tell someone. She cannot do this to you. It has to be against school rules.”
Harry squeezed her hand back, “I can’t, Hermione.” he said, tiredness evident in his voice. She understood to some degree what he meant, but she was still angry about it.
“How did this happen?”
“A quill.”
“A self-inking one?”
“Yeah. I think it used my blood because the words were in red, and the more I wrote the deeper the words got.”
“So a cursed one for sure. Those aren’t even legal.”
“I dunno, ‘Mione. I guess so.”
Hermione knew that she was going to tell Professor McGonagall later anyway whether or not Harry wanted her to. She squeezed his hand one more time before letting go. She flipped her journal closed and put the cap on her muggle pen that she had reserved for just journaling.
“I’ve got to head to the library.” She announced to her two best friends. Harry and Ron nodded, accepting her excuse because they were used to her going to the library at all times of the day and night. Was she going to go to the library? Yes, she would, but that was not her real intention for leaving the common room. She grabbed her bag from its spot on the floor. Waving goodbye to the boys, she exited the common room.
She had three things on her to do list. First was to go to Professor McGonagall’s office, then she would go to Umbridge’s office to try and find the quill that she used on Harry, then she would go to the library to see what the laws were for the type of quill that Umbridge had used. If it was illegal, she would write a complaint and send it to someone in the ministry anonymously and use a school owl. She hurried along the corridors and up the stairs. She still had an hour before curfew and while she was a prefect, she did not want to risk getting in trouble too much. She knew that she could get into the library late, and it would give her an excuse, but she did not under any circumstances want to be caught near Umbridge’s office after curfew. It would look horrible.
As Hermione made her way to Professor McGonagall’s office, she tried to control her anger. She had hidden it from the boys but did not know how she was going to hide it from her professor when she talked about Harry’s hand. She had a tendency to be passionate, but she also knew that she had to be respectful towards her teacher. Hermione knocked on her professor’s door, hoping that her professor was there still rather than in her private room. Her hopes were concerned when she heard a crisp, “Come in.” She opened the door and closed it gently behind her.
“Good evening, Professor.”
“Good evening, Miss Granger. What are you doing here this close to curfew?” the woman asked with a raised brow.
“I needed to talk to you about something important.” Her professor nodded, taking in Hermione’s slightly wild hair, which always seemed to get a bit crazy when she was upset even if she used a copious amount of product in it.
“Go on.”
“I am sorry to bother you this late, but something horrendous happened to Harry while he was in detention with Professor Umbridge.” Hermione tasted disgust when she said her name.
“What do you mean horrendous?”
“She used a cursed quill to write with his blood and carve the lines he was writing over and over again onto the same spot.” Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened.
“Miss Granger, that is a serious accusation.”
“I know it is, Professor, but Harry’s hand. There is no mistaking the wound. I tried multiple healing spells on it, but the most that they would do is stop the bleeding. Besides I talked to Harry about what happened and even he said it was a cursed quill.” Professor McGonagall’s eyes had widened as Hermione explained what had happened to Harry. Her professor took a deep breath.
“Well, this is certainly serious. I will talk to the headmaster about it tomorrow. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Was there anything else?” Hermione didn’t know if that was her cue to leave or not, but there was one other thing that she wanted to ask.
“Just one more thing and then I will be on my way. Why was Professor Umbridge hired? I am sure there were others that would have applied for the position.”
McGonagall studied her student for a moment, obviously thinking about what her answer would be. “It is complicated, Miss Granger. Let's just say that Professor Dumbledore did not have much of a choice.”
Hermione nodded, “Yes ma’am. Thank you again for your time. I knew that Harry would not have told you on his own, so I figured I should say something so that other kids will not have to go through it.”
“I appreciate it, Miss Granger. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight,” with that Hermione excused herself to continue on with her list of things to do. She hoped that Umbridge was not in her office like Professor McGonagall had been or else her plan would be ruined. Hurriedly, she passed dark, empty classrooms. There was no one else in the corridors to see her thankfully. She looked down at her watch, she had only twenty minutes until curfew. The walk to Professor McGonagall’s office had taken her longer than she thought. When she reached Umbridge’s office, she looked around her to see if there was anyone around. The dark corridor made it hard to see anything but shadows, but she wasn’t too worried. There were no notorious classrooms on the lower levels, so most likely random students wouldn’t find her. The only thing she had to worry about was maybe a Slytherin passing her to get to their rooms.
She knocked quietly on the door. After waiting a few moments and not getting a response, Hermione tried the door. It was unlocked and as it opened it made a loud creak. She paused, her heart racing in her chest. She carefully scanned the area again, but there no one appeared or told her to stop. Sucking in a deep breath, she made herself as small as possible to squeeze through the opening. Turning, she thought about closing the door but thought better of it in case it made more noise. It would also be helpful if someone walked by, she would be able to hear them. Now especially with the door open, she would not be able to turn on the lights. Thankfully there was a soft glow from the moon through the open blinds. She had thought about grabbing a night vision potion from her emergency potions kit but thought it might be a bit suspicious to run upstairs to grab plus it would have made her lose more time.
Scanning the room, Hermione took in the decor. It appeared to be all one shade of pink except for the desk. The walls were covered in pink wallpaper; there were pink rugs, pink dishes, and pink holders for quills. On every wall, there were moving cat plates. Many of them must have woken up when she had made the door creak, but others were still asleep, their bodies all moving at the same rhythm. Hermione thought about taking a closer look but brushed off the idea in case the cats were able to move from one dish to another just like the people in the paintings could do all around Hogwarts.
She made her way silently to Umbridge’s desk. Now where on earth would someone keep cursed quills? They definitely would not be left on top with normal quills. That would cause too much of a risk to herself, especially if she grabbed the wrong one. Hermione hurriedly opened each of the drawers on Umbridge’s desk. She moved papers and other personal items in the drawers but couldn't find the stupid quill. “Where are you?” she growled softly.
“Maybe look on the other side under that spare parchment,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
“Ok,” Hermione replied, doing what the voice had told her to before freezing in fear. She looked over at the door, and there stood Draco Malfoy. She groaned audibly before moving the parchment, revealing a blank wooden box. She opened it and sighed in relief when she looked down at what appeared to be three self-inking quills. Someone could always tell by looking at the nub on end. If it was sharper and had a place for the ink to sit, it was not self inking. If it was smaller and had no place for the ink to sit, it was a self-inking pen.
Draco took in the look of victory on Hermione’s face as she looked in the box at the quills. “Granger, what are you doing? Not enough money for quills that you have to steal some? And from a teacher, no less. And here I thought that the Gyriffidors were the best of the best.” Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt but the voice kept going, “Going even lower than Weaslbee and his family, eh?”
“Seriously, Malfoy? No, I am not stealing, I am…borrowing. These were used on a student, and I want to look more into its properties as well as get one to Professor McGonagall, though I don’t know how I am going to explain to her that I got one.” Her explanation caught Draco’s full attention.
“What do you mean ‘used on a student’?”
Hermione hesitated for a second, debating whether or not she should actually tell Malfoy anything about the situation. He was sure to make fun of Harry if he found out, and Harry was already having a rough time. She didn’t need to add Malfoy to his case. “It’s nothing Malfoy. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, I wasn’t worried, Granger. Just curious, that's all.”
“Well don’t be,” she muttered as she pulled just one quill from the box and transfigured a normal quill to look like the one she took. Gently placing the box back into the drawer, she began to fix what she had messed up in her haste to find the quill before curfew. She looked at her watch. It was 5 minutes past curfew. She was going to be in so much trouble if she was found in Umbridge’s office, and even more probably because she was alone with a boy even if it was Malfoy and everyone knew that they would never be caught dead acting like they were a couple even if it was just to hook up. She stood up and brushed off her skirt from where it had been on the floor and made a move to walk out of the door, her bag already back on her shoulder. But her way was blocked by the tall build of Draco Malfoy.
“Uh, no Granger. You don’t get to leave until you tell me what's going on. And if you don’t, I will go straight to Professor Umbridge and tell her you were snooping around her office.” Hermione’s eyes widened. Of course, he was going to try and blackmail her.
“Why does it even matter? How did you know I was here?”
“Well for one, I want to know why Miss Golden Girl is sneaking around in a professor’s office when it is past curfew at this point. And secondly, I was walking back to my common room when I saw a weird shadow through the open door.” To some degree it made sense to Hermione that he would be curious, but why didn’t he just go and tell a teacher? He was a prefect as well, he would be allowed out of bed to go tell on her and get her into trouble. Besides she had always been known as a goody-two shoes know it all. The fact that she was in a professor’s office only two days after school had started was extremely out of the ordinary.
“She has illegal quills that carve the words a person writes over and over into their skin. Healing spells cannot fix it. They can only stop the bleeding.” Hermione admitted after a long minute of silence.
Draco’s smirk shrank a little, “Are you being serious?”
Hermione nodded. Draco’s bravado which he previously carried, was shrinking as the seconds went by. Hermione thought that was enough of an invitation to continue talking about what had happened. “She did it to Harry, and it makes me angry. So angry. It’s not fair. He has been through enough. No child deserves to be put through that no matter what their blood status is. No matter what house. No matter what age. No one deserves to be treated like that. No one deserves to write words written in their own blood that is then carved into the back of their hand.”
Draco’s smirk dropped completely. “That has to be illegal.”
Hermione nodded, “I think it is but I need to cross-reference in the library at some point to check what the current laws are when they changed, and what they had been. It couldn’t have been a short time ago that the laws were changed. That would make them extremely behind muggles in the child rights laws and all of that kind of thing.”
“It is not illegal for me to use, dears. See the minister gave me permission to use whatever means necessary to make sure that I was teaching the students correctly,” came the fake sweet voice of Umbridge. Draco whipped around, still standing in front of Hermione. The two students wore faces full of horror and surprise. Draco turned to her as if he was going to try and throw her under the bus, but Hermione was next to him, her hair going wild around her, as her anger rolled off of her in waves.
“You got permission to use illegal quills on students to punish them. You are forcing them to harm themselves and write in their own blood. That’s horrible.” Energy crackled around her. Draco looked concerned.
“Enough, Miss Granger. You do not know everything. You are just a filthy, little-” she paused for a moment as if what she was going to say got stuck. “Child,” she finished. Hermione took a deep breath as if she was going to try and say something else, but Draco put his hand on her wrist to stop her. She looked over at him, ready to release her rage at him now, but his facial expression stopped her. He looked just as angry with just a touch of fear before erasing it all and putting on a look of determination. Umbridge now had turned most of her attention to Draco.
“I am very disappointed in you both, but especially you, Mr. Malfoy, because of your blood and who your father is.” Hermione watched as Draco tried to keep his face from changing from his determined-set jaw. He started to say something, but Umbridge interrupted him. “Ah, ah. No excuses, Mr. Malfoy. I believe your father will not mind me teaching you a lesson. Not only for being in my office without permission or for being out after curfew, but also for the company that you are apparently keeping. Your father will be most intrigued to hear about that, I am sure.” Draco’s mouth snapped shut. Umbridge, once again, was not finished with what she wanted to say. “As for you, Miss Granger, you will be joining Draco in detention for a month because of…shall we say…violations.”
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. A whole month of detention. She had no doubt the words carved into her hand would be permanent as would Malfoy’s. It would not be able to heal. The blood had drained from Draco’s face as well. Umbridge looked between the two students who had twin looks of horror on their faces as they thought about what their fate was going to be. “Are we clear?” Umbridge asked, her face drawn with harsh lines that betrayed the supposed sweetness of her voice. Hermione and Draco looked at each other wide-eyed before looking back at Umbridge and nodding in unison. The two escaped from the room. Honey brown eyes meet piercing silver blue eyes before the two split and went in two different directions.
Umbridge stood in the doorway of her office watching the two leave. When they were no longer in sight, she closed the door behind her. She sat at her desk and pulled out the blank wooden box Hermione had found earlier. A chilling, cruel smile covered her face as she looked at the cursed quills. It didn’t stop there. She let out a sharp, echoing laugh, “Oh victory is sweet.”