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

A voice suddenly sounded behind Harry, and he hurried back in fright. He didn't notice her at first, for she was wearing a flaming red printed gown that blended in color with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

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

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing to a small table with lace. She had already placed a straight-backed chair beside her, and there was a blank piece of parchment on the table, apparently for him.

"Well," said Harry, unmoving, "Professor Umbridge, um- before we begin, I- I would like to ask you for a ...... One thing. ”

Her eyes bulging out in both directions narrowed.

"Oh, what?"

"That's right, I...... I'm a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm supposed to be in the selection of the new goalkeeper at five o'clock on Friday afternoon, and I'm - I don't know if I can come to confinement that night, and another night to make up for it......"

He didn't wait for him to finish, he knew in his heart that it would not be useful.

"Oh, no." Umbridge said, grinning so fleshy that it was as if he had just swallowed a particularly tasty and juicy fly, "No, no, no." This is a punishment for you for spreading evil, vile, sensationalizing lies. Mr. Potter, punishment certainly cannot be arbitrarily adjusted to satisfy the convenience of the wrongdoer. No, 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 a good thing that you're missing out on some of the activities that you really enjoy. It should reinforce the lesson I intend to teach you. ”

Harry felt blood rush to his head and his ears buzzing. Listen to her, he's spreading "evil, vile, grandstanding lies", isn't he?

She tilted her head slightly and stared at him, still with a sensual smile on her face, as if she knew very well what was going on in his heart, and was waiting to see if he would have another seizure, yelling. With great effort, Harry looked away from her, tossed his bag and sat down next to the straight-backed chair.

"Yes," Umbridge said coquettishly, "we're more able to control our emotions, aren't we?" Now, you're going to write a few sentences for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with your quill," she quickly added as Harry bent down to open her bag, "you're going to use one of my very unusual pens." To give. She handed him a long, slender black quill with a particularly sharp tip.

"I want you to write: I can't lie." She spoke to him softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked, 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 the ink." He said.

"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 lines appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, and sank into the flesh as if they had been carved with a scalpel—and yet, as he stared at the red wounds, his 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 "I can't lie". He felt a burning pain in the back of his hand again, the words carved into his skin again, and after a few seconds, 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, then healed, and then, when he landed the tip of the pen on the parchment again, the words would appear again.

Outside the window of Umbridge's office, night was falling. Harry didn't ask him when he could stop. He hadn't even looked at what time it was. He knew that she was watching him to see if he showed any signs of weakness, and he didn't want to show the slightest weakness, even if he was going to sit here all night and cut his hand deep with this quill......

"Come here." After what seemed like hours, she said.

Harry stood up. His hands hurt hotly. He looked down and saw that although the wound had healed, the skin there was red and tender flesh exposed.

"Hands." Umbridge said.

Harry reached out. She held it in her own hand. Harry tried desperately to restrain a shiver as she touched Harry's hand with her fat, short, stubby finger with a large pile of ugly old-fashioned rings.

"Tsk, it looks like I haven't left a deep imprint on you yet." She smiled and said, "It's okay, we'll try again tomorrow night, right?" You're good to go. ”

Harry left her office without saying a word. The school was almost empty, and it must have been past midnight. He walked slowly down the hallway, and when he turned the corner, sure she wouldn't hear, he ran away.

When he ran away, a figure gradually appeared in the passage behind him, it was Du Teng, who used the illusion spell to hide his figure. Harry was in a hurry to leave, not noticing the anomaly around him, and when Harry completely disappeared into the passage, Duten tidied up his clothes, flicked his arm lightly, flicked his wand into his palm, and then stepped forward and knocked on Umbridge's door.

"Who......"

Umbridge opened the door defenselessly, and a black wand awaited her.

"The wind is howling!"

A cloud of highly compressed air slammed into Umbridge's body, and Umbridge, who was completely defenseless, was driven directly into the office. The fat body slammed against the far wall, let out a scream in his throat, and then fell to the ground.

"For, why ......"

Umbridge didn't understand why Duten would attack her, she was already treating him with respect, she didn't dare to trouble him at all, and tried to avoid conflict with him, it was because of him that Harry was not punished more severely in class that day, why, why did he attack himself.

Du Teng walked into the room, waved his wand casually, and the door behind him was closed, and the locks were inserted one by one. He didn't even look at her, walked quickly to Umbridge, put his foot on her chest, and slowly leaned down.

"Want to know why? It's simple, because I need to turn you into my puppet. ”

Du Teng had a gentle smile on his face, but this smile was more terrifying in Umbridge's eyes than the most terrifying demon.

"No, you can't do that, that's an unforgivable curse! You're going to be wanted by the International Ministry of Magic! You will become the enemy of the world! You'll be imprisoned in Azkaban!! ”

Umbridge screamed, apparently hoping that his voice would be heard by someone outside.

"Don't waste your efforts, do you think I'll be defenseless?"

Du Teng sneered, and with a flick of his wand in the void, a colorful light curtain appeared around the entire room. The curtain of light disappeared shortly after it appeared, and the surrounding walls looked the same as before.

"This ...... What is this......"

"It's just a simple barrier that can isolate sounds, and it can only ensure that the voices inside don't come out. Okay, stop talking nonsense and be my puppet - out of body. ”

Duten's wand lightly tapped on Umbridge's eyebrows, Umbridge's pinprick face suddenly became calm, his expression was filled with some serenity and satisfaction, the whole person became confused, and his brain was blank.

Duten withdrew his wand.

There is a Umbridge as his puppet, and the effect is still very huge. Of course, no one knows what he is going to ask Umbridge to do, and he himself doesn't have too good ideas, but it is a good choice after all, so he doesn't worry about his use of the Unforgivable Spell being exposed, because Umbridge can't break free from his curse, as long as he doesn't take the initiative to lift it, even if she dies, it is impossible for others to know what he did.

Of course, the thief waterfall in Gringotts' underground vault can wash away the Imperius Curse, but Duten won't let Umbridge go to Gringotts, he just needs Umbridge to help him here.

……

Friday morning was as gloomy and damp as it had been in the previous days of the week. When Harry walked into the auditorium, he had no hope of seeing Hagrid, despite his habitual glance at the staff's desk. He immediately turned his mind to more pressing matters, such as the mountain of homework that had to be done and the need to go back to Umbridge for a lockdown.

Two things that day gave Harry some confidence.

One was that he thought it was almost the weekend, and the other was that while the last time he was locked up at Umbridge would have been terrifying, the Quidditch pitch could be seen from the window of her office, and if he was lucky, he might be able to see a little bit of Ron's selection. Of course, these were very faint rays of hope, but Harry was in a dark situation, and he would be glad that anything could bring a little light. He'd never had a worse first week at Hogwarts.

At five o'clock that evening, he knocked on the door of Professor Umbridge's office—he wished it would be the last. Umbridge called him in, and on the lace-covered table, the blank parchment was already waiting for him, and beside it lay the sharp black quill.

"You know what to do, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said, smiling at him.

Harry picked up the quill and glanced out the window. Just move the chair an inch or two to the right...... He pretended to move to the table, and did so. He could now see the Gryffindor Quidditch team flying around the pitch in the distance, and six or seven black figures standing under the three high posts, apparently waiting to be the goalkeeper. It's too far away to see which one is Ron.

"I can't lie", Harry wrote.

The wound on the back of his right hand cracked open and blood flowed again.

"I can't lie".

The wound sank deeper, and the pain was intense.

"I can't lie".

Blood ran down his wrists.

He ventured and glanced out the window again. Now I don't know who is defending the goalpost, and the performance is terrible. Within seconds of Harry mustering up the courage to peek, Katie Bale scored twice in a row. He lowered his gaze and looked back at the bloodstained parchment, wishing the goalkeeper wasn't Ron.

I can't lie.

I can't lie.

He looked up out the window whenever he felt the chance, whenever he could hear Umbridge's quill writing, or hear her open the desk drawer. The third participant was good, the fourth was very bad, and the fifth was particularly nice enough to dodge a Bludger but leak an easily catchy ball into the goal. It was getting darker, and Harry thought to himself that he might not be able to see the sixth and seventh candidates.

I can't lie.

I can't lie.

The parchment was covered with red blood pouring from the back of his hand, which hurt like it was on fire. When he looked up again, night had fallen, and he could no longer see what was going on on the Quidditch pitch.

"Let's see if you get through that, shall we?" Half an hour later, Umbridge said softly.

She walked over to Harry, holding out her short, ringed fingers to grab his arm. As she grabbed him and examined the words that sank deep into his flesh, he felt a burning pain, but not the back of his hand, but the scar on his forehead. At the same time, there was a very strange sensation somewhere in his upper abdomen.

He wrenched his arm from her grasp and stood to his feet, staring straight at her. She looked at him too, and the smile on her face widened the wide, bubble-fluffing mouth.

"yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" She asked softly.

Harry didn't answer. His heart was pounding loudly and fast. Was she talking about his hand, or did she know what he had just felt on his forehead?

"Well, I think I've accomplished my goal, Mr. Potter. You're good to go. ”

He picked up his bag and left the room as quickly as possible.

After Harry left, Duten stepped out of the office. He glanced at the closed door, then at Umbridge, who was next to him with a blank face, and smiled.

"Very well, just keep doing it, remember my words, I need you to speed up your plan as fast as possible, as long as you do it well enough, I will give you freedom."

Du Teng chuckled and disappeared.

Umbridge waited for him to leave, then raised her arm, and on her forearm, where the others couldn't see, there was a red mark, constantly flashing with light. (To be continued.) )