Harry looked up in some puzzlement at Umbridge behind the desk. She was staring in horror at the back of her left hand.
Harry had very good eyesight and could just make out a blood-red mark on it.
Huh?
Harry had an inkling of what was happening and quickly finished writing the sentence "I must not tell lies."
"Ah!" Umbridge screamed again.
This time, Harry saw it clearly. As he wrote on the parchment, the red mark on the back of Umbridge's hand grew longer.
Ha ha!
Harry understood.
He had always been clever, and working with Fred and George had exposed him to quite a few magical objects. He could see what was happening now: some sort of magic must have been placed on Umbridge's quill.
Whenever he wrote, the words would be carved into his own hand.
Yes, those bloody marks should originally have appeared on his own left hand, leaving him swearing in pain. But for some uncertain reason-probably because of the Hand of Chaos and Calamity?
Whatever the case, the result was that Harry was completely fucking fine, while Umbridge was screaming in pain.
Ha, this was going to be fun.
Harry gave a sinister chuckle, then bent his head and began scribbling furiously on the parchment.
Harry had never written so fast before. His quill flew across the page, producing eight lines a minute.
"Stop, stop, Potter, stop right now!" Umbridge cried out in pain again and again. Although she did not know what had happened, seeing "I must not tell lies" constantly appearing on the back of her hand told her that the magic had turned on her instead.
"Professor, it hasn't sunk in yet! I think I need to reflect more deeply!" Harry answered loudly. His hand showed no sign of stopping; instead,