At five minutes and five o'clock, Harry said goodbye to Van Lin and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor.

In fact, as soon as he left, Harry had the illusion that maybe the confinement trip was going to be terrible, but since something pleaded with Umbridge, it was always good to arrive early.

Thinking about it, Harry ran, he came out a little late, but with two minutes to go, Harry was still standing outside Umbridge's door.

Harry hesitated.

He had barely knocked on the door when Umbridge called out in a sweet voice, "Come in." ”

Harry walked in cautiously and looked around.

He knew the three owners of the original office.

When Gilderoy Lockhart was here, he bragged about himself all day long. When Lupin is here, if you visit your home, you will see fascinating dark creatures in cages and pools. The time of the imposter Moody's was filled with different instruments and artifacts used to detect false appearances and forbidden areas.

Now, it's all different here.

The surface is covered with cloth, several vases are filled with dried flowers, each in its own place, and on one wall hangs decorative plates, each depicting a huge colored kitten with a different bow tie around its neck.

It was originally a very cute little one, but after Umbridge's pink hue, Harry couldn't help but chill until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

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

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

"All right, sit down," she said, pointing to a small table and a straight-backed chair next to it. There was a black parchment on the table ready for him.

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

Umbridge's protruding eyes narrowed, as if he had discovered something interesting. "Oh, what?"

"Well, I'm a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I'd like to play in the goalkeeper tryouts at five o'clock on Friday, and I'm looking up if I can leave it out that night and put it on another night. ”

Before he could finish speaking, looking at Umbridge's expression, Harry knew something was not good.

"Oh, no," said Umbridge, laughing so hard that she looked as if she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fruit, "Oh, no, no, no, this is your evil punishment, dirty, distracting story, Mr. Potter, punishment certainly can't be convenient for those who deserve it, and more than that, you have to come tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday, and you must be locked up as required." I guess it's a good thing that you miss what you want, which can enhance the effectiveness of the course. ”

Harry felt the blood rush to the top of his head, and there was a thud in his ears.

"Evil, dirty, distracting stories," is that what he said?

Umbridge looked at him with her head tilted slightly, still smiling wide, and although she knew what Harry was thinking, she was still waiting to see if he would risk another tragic outcome yelling at her.

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

"Here," said Umbridge sweetly, "we'll be better off if we can control our temper, won't we?" Now, please demonstrate the charm for me, Mr. Potter, no, not with your pen," she added as Harry bent down to open her bag, "and you're going to use my more special one." ...... you"

Umbridge said, handing him a long, slender, black quill with an unusual pointed tip.

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

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

"Oh, write until you remember," Umbridge said sweetly, "and go." ”

She walked over to her table and sat down, towards a pile of parchment, as if writing a thesis. Harry held up his black quill and saw as if he had missed something.

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

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

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

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

Harry glanced at Umbridge, who was looking at him at the same time. Her wide, nasty mouth opened into a small smile.

"What's the matter?"

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

Again, the words seemed to get into his skin, and again, they seemed to come out again.

As Harry continued to put the words on the parchment over and over again, he soon felt that his pen ran out of ink, and only his own blood remained. Keep writing, it's as if the words keep going into the skin, coming out, and they keep coming up on the next line.

Night fell outside Umbridge's window. Harry didn't ask him when he could stop, he didn't even look at his watch. He seemed to know she was waiting for him to show his tiredness, but Harry didn't show it at all. It seemed like he didn't mind working here all night, just kept opening the parchment and writing with a quill.

"Come here," Umbridge said hours later.

Harry stood up. His hand was still tingling. When he looked down, he saw that the wound had healed, but the skin was covered with red blood.

"Hand". She said.

Harry reached out.

When she touched Harry's wound with her disgusting finger, which was short, thick with a ring, Harry tried to restrain himself from trembling.

"Tsk, tsk, I didn't expect to have such an impact on you. She laughs. "Well, then, you can go to-morrow night! ”

Harry walked out of the office without saying a word. It was very quiet in the school, and it must have been midnight by now. He slowly walked out of the hallway, and when he turned the corner to make sure Umbridge couldn't hear him, Harry started running. He didn't have time to practice the vanishing spell anymore, nor did he have time to keep a diary of his daily dreams, nor did he have time to complete his atlas of plants, let alone his paper.

The next morning he skips breakfast to write some man-made dreams as part of their homework for their first class, divination, and is surprised to find Ron disheveled by his side.

"Why didn't you do it last night?" asked Harry as Ron was busy in the spacious common room. Ron had fallen asleep yesterday as soon as Harry had returned.

Ron was muttering, "Something else," while scribbling something on the parchment.

"That's all I have to do," Ron said, struggling to close the diary. "I said I dreamed I was buying a new pair of shoes so she couldn't see anything out of them, didn't I?"

They quickly ran to the North Building to assemble. "How was yesterday's confinement in Umbridge, and what does she want you to do?"

Harry hesitated for a few seconds before saying

"Write!"

"That doesn't seem bad, then, huh?" Ron said.

"It's gone. Harry said.

"Hey—I almost forgot—did she give you the day off on Friday?"

"Nope. Harry said with a serious face......