HP Magic Biography

Five minutes to five o'clock, Harry and Fanlin said goodbye and set out to walk towards the office on the third floor of Umbridge.

In fact, as soon as he left, Harry had an illusion that perhaps the trip to confinement would be very bad, but since there is something to beg Umbridge, it is always good to arrive earlier.

While thinking about it, Harry ran. He came out a bit late, but Harry stood outside Umbridge's door just two minutes away.

Harry hesitated.

He just knocked on the door when he heard Umbridge shout in a sweet to greasy voice, "Come in."

Harry walked in carefully, looking around.

He knew the three owners of the original office.

Gidro Lockhart brags about himself all the time when he is here. When Lupin is here, if you visit, you will see charming dark creatures in cages and ponds. The time of fake Moody is full of different instruments and artifacts used to detect fakes and restricted areas.

Now, it's all different here.

The surface was covered with cloth, and several vases were filled with dried flowers. Each branch was in its own place. A decorative plate hung on one wall, and each painted a huge colorful kitten with a different bow tie around its neck.

This was originally a cute little guy, but after Umbridge's pink hue, Harry couldn't help feeling a chill until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." Harry began to look around. He didn't notice Umbridge at first because she was wearing a terrible patterned robe, mixed with the color of the tablecloth behind her.

"Good evening, Professor Umbridge," Harry said stiffly.

"Okay, sit down," she said, pointing to a small table and a straight chair next to it. There is a piece of black parchment paper ready for him on the table.

"Well," Harry didn't move. "Professor Umbridge, well, before we start, I want to ask if you can promise me a request?"

Umbridge's protruding eyes narrowed, and it seemed that something interesting had been discovered. "Oh what?"

"Well, I'm a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I hope I can participate in the goalkeeper trials at 5 o'clock on Friday. I'm whether I can leave it in lockdown that night and put it on another night instead."

Before he finished speaking, Harry knew it was not good looking at Umbridge's expression.

"Oh, no" Umbridge said, she laughed so hard that she looked like she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fruit, "Oh, no, no, no, this is your punishment for spreading evil. Dirty, distracting story, Mr. Potter, of course punishment can’t make people who deserve it convenient, and more than that, you must come tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday. You must be locked up as required. I think you missed you What you want is a good thing, which can enhance the effectiveness of the course."

Harry felt blood pouring over his head, and there was a thumping sound in his ears.

"Evil, dirty, distracting story," is this referring to him?

Umbridge turned her head slightly to look at him, still smiling with her mouth wide open. Although she knew what Harry was thinking, she was still waiting to see if he would yell at her again with a tragic result.

Harry looked away, dropped his bag on the chair, and sat down.

"Here," Umbridge said sweetly, "if we can control our temper, we will get along better, won't we? Now, please show me the spell, Mr. Potter, no, not with your pen. "She added when Harry bent over and opened the schoolbag, "You will use my more special one. Here you..."

Umbridge said, and handed him a slender, black quill with an unusual tip.

"I want you to write, I can't lie," she instructed softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked, pretending to be very polite.

"Oh, write until you remember," Umbridge said sweetly, "leave after you finish."

She went to her desk and sat down, facing a pile of parchment, as if she was writing a paper. Harry held up the black quill and found that something seemed to be missing.

"You didn't give me ink." Harry said.

"Oh, of course, you don't need ink," Professor Umbridge said, and the smile in her voice seemed to imply something.

Harry pressed the quill on the paper and began to write: You can't lie. He felt a pain.

Letters in red ink appeared on parchment. At the same time, these letters appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, piercing his skin like a scalpel... He even saw obvious cuts, the skin healed again, and the red was lighter than before, very smooth.

Harry looked at Umbridge, and she was looking at him at the same time. Her wide, disgusting mouth opened with a smile.

"what's up?"

"Oh, nothing." Harry said quietly. He looked at the parchment again, put the quill pen on it again, and wrote "I shouldn't lie", and for a moment he felt a burning pain in the back of his hand.

Write it again, those words seem to have entered his skin; again, they seem to gradually come out.

When Harry continued to put these words on the parchment over and over again, he soon felt that his pen was out of ink and only his own blood was left. Keep writing, these words seem to keep entering and coming out of the skin, and they keep appearing on the next line.

Night fell outside Umbridge's window. Harry didn't ask when he could stop, he didn't even look at the watch. He seemed to know she was waiting for him to show tiredness, but Harry didn't show it at all. It seemed as if he let him do it all night without minding, just opening the parchment and writing with a quill pen.

"Come here," Umbridge said several hours later.

Harry stood up. His hands were still tingling. When he lowered his head, he found that the wound had healed, but the skin was full of red blood.

"hand". she says.

Harry stretched out his hand.

When she touched Harry's wound with her disgusting finger, which was short, thick and also had a ring, Harry tried to restrain himself so that he would not tremble.

"Tsk! Tsk! I didn't expect to have so much influence on you." She said with a smile. "Then, you can continue tomorrow night! You can go now."

Harry walked out of the office without saying a word. The school is very quiet, it must have passed midnight by now. He walked slowly out of the corridor, and when he turned the corner and made sure Umbridge could not hear him, Harry started to run. He has no time to practice the Vanishing Mantra, and no time to write a diary about his daily dreams, and no time to complete his spectrum about plants, let alone the paper.

The next morning he didn't eat breakfast to write some artificial dreams as homework for their first class-divination, and was surprised to find that Ron was also with him in disheveled clothes.

"Why didn't you do it last night?" Harry asked, while Ron was busy in the spacious common room~www.wuxiaspot.com~Ron fell asleep when Harry came back yesterday.

Ron was muttering, "Doing something else," at the same time he was writing something on the parchment.

"That's all I have to do," Ron said, smashing the diary hard. "I said I dreamed that I was buying a new pair of shoes so that she couldn't see anything in it, didn't she?"

They quickly ran to the north building to gather. "How was the confinement in Umbridge yesterday? What did she want you to do?"

Harry hesitated for a few seconds and said

"Write!"

"It doesn't seem to be bad, then, huh?" Ron said.

"Nothing," Harry said.

"Hey — I almost forgot — did she leave you on Friday?"

"No." Harry said with a serious face...