I'm a Mudblood!

Even though he's transformed into Hermione several times, William still feels awkward every time he wears her clothes.

For example, right now...

"Your size seems a bit small, doesn't it?"

No~

"It was just right last time, but this time it feels like I can't breathe."

"No!"

(Measuring by hand)

"She's definitely older; girls her age develop so quickly."

(Continuing to be measured)

Ah~!

Before he could dodge, the girl hit him on the head several times with her bra.

Touching his head, he said aggrievedly:

"Or maybe we shouldn't wear it at all?"

Another round of violence ensued.

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After calming herself down, the girl smiled softly:

"Don't be stubborn, I've already bought the new size, just make do with this for now."

"I won't wear it!"

"Then I'll use your body to go streaking, or go on a date with any girl!"

Come on, let's hurt each other!

"Okay, I'll wear it!"

It took them more than half an hour to change clothes and another half a day to get ready before they finally left the Room of Requirement.

"Then I'll go to the Quidditch Pitch," Hermione said.

As Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, William is responsible for leading the team's training.

Hermione has become William, so she'll definitely have to go in his place.

"Don't worry, I've already spoken to Qiu, she can help." William tugged at his clothes.

After they parted ways, William walked alone toward Umbridge's office.

He knocked on the door, and a sickeningly sweet voice called out, "Come in."

William pushed open the door and walked in, entering this all-too-familiar room.

He knew this place all too well... Professor Tywin died on the toilet, but of course he was brought back to life.

Quirrell and Voldemort also lived here for a time; Lockhart even forcibly stabbed the Leprechaun here.

This is arguably the most sinister place in Hogwarts.

Now that it's become Umbridge's office, she's completely changed the style of the room's decor.

Everything was covered with lace-trimmed drapes and tablecloths.

There were also several vases filled with dried flowers, each placed on a separate small cushion.

One wall hangs a set of decorative plates, each with a brightly colored cat pattern and a different bow around its neck.

The cats all looked at William with cold, sinister eyes.

Umbridge wore a bright red printed robe, the color of which blended seamlessly with the tablecloth on her desk, making them almost indistinguishable.

Good afternoon, Miss Granger.

A pink toad that makes a cutesy sound.

William gave Umbridge a fitting description. He laughed:

"Hello, Professor Umbridge."

"Hmm, sit down." She gestured to a small table with lace trim.

A straight-backed chair was placed next to him, and a blank parchment was on the table, clearly prepared for him.

On the other side of the room, there was another table, probably prepared for Harry.

William imitated Hermione's posture and sat down comfortably in the chair.

A short while later, there was another knock on the door.

"Come in," Umbridge said.

Harry opened the door and came in, seeing Hermione and Umbridge.

"Have a seat," Umbridge said, pointing to another table.

Harry didn't move. After hesitating for a moment, he said:

"Professor Umbridge, um... before we begin, I... I'd like to ask you... one thing."

Umbridge's bulging eyes narrowed, and she asked excitedly, "Oh, what is it?"

"Well, I... I'm a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team," Harry said, mustering his courage.

"I'm supposed to have training tomorrow afternoon, but I don't know if I can. There's no confinement tomorrow, so I can make it up another night..."

William was utterly speechless.

Harry offended Umbridge in class, confronting her directly in the classroom, acting completely fearless.

Now, however, they've backed down and started pleading for leniency, trying to change the length of their confinement.

Would Umbridge agree?

Or did Harry think... Hogwarts was his family's property?

What are you thinking about all day long?

Sure enough, Umbridge chuckled, as if he had just swallowed a delicious, juicy fly.

"No, no! This is punishment for spreading evil, despicable, and sensationalist lies."

Mr Potter, punishment certainly cannot be arbitrarily adjusted to accommodate the convenience of the offender.

"Not tomorrow, not ever again. Whenever you train, you must come here and be confined according to the plan."

Umbridge said smugly:

"I think missing out on some activities you particularly enjoyed is actually a good thing. It reinforces the lesson I'm going to teach you."

Harry felt his blood rush to his head, his ears were ringing, and he wanted to yell at Umbridge again.

But Umbridge, with a disgusting grin on his face, tilted his head and stared at Harry, waiting to see him lash out again so he could punish him further.

Harry finally turned away, rudely throwing his backpack next to the straight-backed chair, scattering the books inside all over the floor.

"Pick it up!" Umbridge said sweetly. "Is this your upbringing?"

Potter?

Oh, I forgot, you don't have parents... you've been living with your aunt.

You're an orphan, aren't you?

Harry glared at Umbridge, clenching his fists as if he wanted to punch her.

"What, you want to hit me? Come on!" Umbridge leaned her face closer.

If Potter dares to make a move, she will immediately have a reason to fire the other party.

Harry gritted his teeth, trembling all over, but remembering Professor McGonagall's instructions, he swallowed his anger.

He bent down to pick up his backpack and sat down on the chair.

Umbridge was somewhat disappointed and turned to look at him again.

"And you, Miss Granger, do you have a request? If it's you, I'll consider it..." She smiled.

"My only request is to be allowed to come to solitary confinement every day," William said calmly.

Umbridge's eyes were sinister, but her tone was DiDi:

You will get what you want.

She walked to the desk, picked up two quill pens, and said in a coquettish voice:

Now, you are to write a few sentences for me.

No, not with your quill pens, but with the pen I gave you!

Umbridge handed him two long, thin black quill pens with exceptionally sharp nibs.

William took it and glanced at it, already knowing what it was.

The feathers are raven feathers, and they have been enchanted with a kind of Dark Magic.

The writer's blood can be used to punish the writer.

"I want you to write: I cannot lie," Umbridge said softly to Harry.

"How many times?" Harry asked blankly.

He hadn't expected the punishment to be so lenient. It had worried him all morning.

"Keep writing until this sentence is etched in your heart," Umbridge said in a sweet, coquettish voice. "Start writing."

"And you, you're going to write... I'm Mudblood!" Umbridge looked at William with resentment in her eyes.

She wanted revenge for the attack on Vienna and for being sent to Azkaban.

"Are you sure?" William asked, raising his head.

"Yes, I'm sure! Darling, I think you'll like that!"

Umbridge walked to his desk and sat down, burying himself in a pile of parchment, seemingly grading assignments.

But her eyes secretly glanced upwards, looking expectantly at Granger.

William raised the black quill pen and waved the wand in his left hand within his wide robe.

A moment later, he picked up a quill pen, the tip landing on the paper, and quickly wrote:

"I am Mudblood!"

Umbridge frowned; Granger hadn't even cried out.

What happened?

When she bought the quill pen in Knockturn Alley, the shopkeeper told her that it was very useful for punishment.

Were we scammed?

Damn it, she's going to get Auror to shut down that shop.

But just a second later, Umbridge gasped in pain and screamed.

Harry looked up at Umbridge, bewildered, but was startled.

On her face, a row of bright red words appeared:

I am Mudblood!

The words were deeply embedded in the skin, as if they had been carved in with a scalpel.

However, just as he stared at the bright red wound, Umbridge's skin healed, as if the wound had never appeared at all.

William wrote it again: I am Mudblood!

Umbridge covered her face; she felt a burning pain.

Her vision blurred, and she nearly fainted from shock and anger. She managed to regain her balance and cried out:

"Enough! Enough!"

William, however, showed no sign of stopping; he tilted his head, immersed in the world of calligraphy.

His pen moved swiftly and gracefully, writing on the parchment in English, French, German, and Ancient Runes... in a flowing, elegant style:

I am Mudblood!

Again and again, these words were etched into Umbridge's face, and then healed.

William suddenly laughed:

"Professor, I've come to like this quote, but I'd like to share it with you as well!"

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