The first week of every new school year at Hogwarts was always especially hard to get through.
At last, the first week of classes was over, and the weekend had arrived. As the lunchtime bustle in the Great Hall gradually subsided, Harry seized his chance and quietly pulled Jerry into the dim corridor beside a side door.
"Jerry, I had detention with Umbridge last night." Harry's face was dark, a trace of hatred in his voice. "She kept making me write lines, but that quill was like a carving knife. Everything I wrote was carved into the skin on the back of my hand. Be careful. She probably hates you even more than she hates me!"
"Don't worry. Tomorrow night, I'll teach that despicable toad Umbridge a lesson!" Jerry's gaze sharpened. He caught sight of the red mark on the back of Harry's hand and frowned deeply. Then he took a bottle of faintly glowing potion from his robes and handed it to Harry. "Apply this to the wound. The cuts might heal, but after enough repetitions, that might not be the case."
"Got it," Harry said, taking the potion. "And don't tell anyone else about this."
Jerry nodded.
That afternoon was bright and sunny, a rare stretch of lovely weather.
Jerry lay on the slope beside the Black Lake, his head resting on his folded hands. The tips of the grass tickled faintly through his cotton shirt, and he could sense flecks of golden light dancing beyond his closed eyelids.
Hermione sat on the grass beside him, a few wisps of silvery thistle fluff caught in her hair and a thick book open on her lap.
"The Ordinary Wizarding Level exams are still ages away," Jerry said, stretching lazily. "With Miss Know-it-all's brains, a little exam should be a