"Good evening, Mr. Potter. Pen %Fun %Pavilion www.biquge.info"

Harry was so frightened that he hurriedly turned his head, he hadn't noticed her at first.

Because she was wearing a long hug with a fiery red and dazzling print, the color blended in with the tablecloth on the desk behind her, and it was almost indistinguishable.

"I, well, good evening, Professor Umbridge. Harry said unnaturally.

"Well, sit down!" she said, pointing to a small table with lace hanging with a habitual smirk on her face.

She had already placed a straight-backed chair beside her, and there was a blank piece of parchment on the table, apparently for him.

"Hmm!" said Harry, unmoving, "yes, Professor Umbridge, well, before we begin, I-um, I want to ask you for one thing. ”

"Oh, what?" her eyes narrowed with bulging eyes.

"Yes, I'm a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm supposed to be going to the new goalkeeper this Friday afternoon at five o'clock, and I don't know if I can stop coming to confinement that night and find another night to make up for it. Harry finished speaking, looked at Umbridge's expression, and added with trepidation, "Or you can be punished for an extra day......

His voice grew lower and lower as Umbridge's appearance told him that it wasn't going to work.

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter, it's not a negotiation or a deal. Umbridge said, grinning so fleshy that it was as if she had just swallowed a particularly tasty and juicy fly, "Oh, no, no, no." This is the punishment for spreading evil, vile, sensationalism, and lies, Mr. Potter, and the punishment certainly cannot be adjusted at will to satisfy the convenience of those who are at fault. No, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday, you have to come here at five o'clock in the afternoon and be locked down as planned. I think it's actually a good thing that you're missing out on some of the activities that you particularly enjoy, and it should reinforce the lessons I intend to teach you and make you fully aware of your mistakes, which is good for you. ”

Harry felt blood rush to his head and his ears buzzing.

Listen to her, he spread evil, vile, grandstanding lies, and only then did he come to be punished.

But he said the truth, and he told the truth!

Umbridge tilted her head slightly and stared at Harry, still with a sensual smile on her face.

She seemed to know exactly what was going on in his mind and was waiting to see if he would have another seizure, yelling.

It seemed that he was making a silent provocation, and if he dared to do so?

Harry really wanted to just yell out, or pounce, there were just two of them......

With great effort, he turned his gaze away from her, threw his bag and sat down next to the straight-backed chair.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, it looks like the punishment has worked, and we're more able to control our emotions now, aren't we? Now, you're going to write a few sentences for me. No, not with your quill pen. Umbridge said coquettishly, and when she saw Harry bend down to open her bag, she quickly added, "You're going to use one of my very unusual pens, give." ”

She took the long, slender black quill on the table and handed it to him.

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

"How many times?" asked Harry, making a commendably polite look.

"Oh, write until this sentence is engraved in your heart. Umbridge snorted, "Let's start writing." ”

She walked over to her desk and sat down, figuring down a pile of parchment that looked like a batch of papers waiting to be corrected.

Harry held up his sharp black quill and realized what was missing.

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

"Oh, you don't need ink. Professor Umbridge said, with a faint smile in his voice.

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

The next second, he gasped in pain.

The words that appear on the 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 it sank into the flesh as if it had been carved with a scalpel, but as he stared at the red wounds, the skin healed again, and the place where the words had been written was only slightly redder than before, but smooth to the touch.

Harry turned to look at Umbridge. She was staring at him, her toad-like mouth grinning.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Harry whispered.

He looked down at the parchment, dropped the tip of his pen on it again, and wrote that I can't lie.

He felt a burning pain in the back of his hand again, and the words carved into his skin again.

A few seconds later, at a speed visible to the naked eye, the wound healed again.

And so, Harry wrote the line on parchment over and over again.

He soon discovers that instead of ink, he is using his own blood.

Over and over again, the words were carved into the back of his hand and healed.

Then, when he lands the tip of the pen on the parchment, the words appear again.

Minutes and seconds passed, about half an hour, but it seemed like centuries to Harry.

He gritted his teeth and remained silent, not wanting to show the slightest weakness.

Even if he was going to sit here all night, he would cut his hand deep with this quill.

Knock, knock at the door.

"Come in. Umbridge shouted tiredly, and Harry stopped to look at the door.

Immediately, his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw Evan walk in.

"Good evening, Professor Umbridge!" Evan was stunned!

He swallowed, the décor of the room was horrible, and it reminded him of the mix of Lady Padiv's teahouse and Aunt Harry's house, all bright red.

Even Umbridge's flaming red printed long hug seemed to blend in with the surroundings.

Then he saw Harry, sitting at the table staring at him, who was out of place for everything here.

"Aven, what are you doing here?" asked Harry subconsciously.

"I invited Mr. Mason over for tea, and I wanted to talk to the school's new boys' student council president. Umbridge smiled and said, "Please go ahead, Mr. Potter, and don't worry about the two of us." ”

Having said that, Harry was still focused on what the two of them were going to say.

He didn't know how Evan came here and even had tea with Umbridge, was Evan crazy?!

Or rather, the two of them reached some kind of compromise.

Umbridge walked over to the round tea table next to the fire, on which prepared tea and pastries were placed.

"Come here, Mr. Mason, don't stand there. She said enthusiastically, grinning widely, and motioned for Evan to sit across from him, "I've wanted to talk to you for a long time." ”

"Well, can't we call Harry along?" Evan asked, looking at the quill in Harry's hand.

Following Aven's gaze, Umbridge noticed that Harry had been looking at this and shook his head.

"No, that's not going to work, Mr. Potter is in confinement, and he must be careful when copying. She took out her wand and flicked it, and a magic spell to prevent anyone from eavesdropping hung around the tea table, and Harry couldn't hear anything.