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Chapter 954: Scars and Omens
🕑 Added 2023-12-06 12:28:51 +0000 UTCWhile the Tryouts on the pitch were going on, Harry was still in Umbridge’s office for the last time, and he kept writing ‘I must not tell lies’ on the parchment, hoping that this would be the last time he would be given detention by that woman.
Umbridge had just informed him that she had reordered a new black quill, which would be delivered next week.
The underlying implication of her statement was that if Harry made another mistake, it wouldn't be as simple as writing sentences. She would not hesitate to subject him to the same bloody punishment as before. But Harry didn't care. He had made up his mind not to tell lies because of threats.
But as Evan had said, there was no point in arguing with her, this woman was hopeless.
Umbridge was now focusing on inspecting the professors, and had no time to bother with Evan and Harry.
One week was enough for her to get a general idea of the situation, and she was a little disappointed that, except for the castle caretaker Filch, no professor had taken the initiative to join her or expressed support for her reforms so far.
The entire Hogwarts stood as a united front, supporting Dumbledore, seemingly dismissing Umbridge's inspections and the authority of the Ministry of Magic.
Umbridge had made up her mind to drive away one professor to establish her own authority.
And she had a new plan. Lucius Malfoy and some pure-blood wizard families had voluntarily contacted her earlier today. They were very interested in her role as a High Inquisitor and hoped she could do something to drive out Dumbledore.
Although she had no supporters in this castle, her power behind the scenes surpassed that of the Wizarding School.
If this were a power struggle, she was confident in achieving the final victory.
Harry saw that Umbridge was not paying attention to him, so he took a risk and glanced through the window.
He had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep.
It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance.
Harry wrote a few more lines, and pretended to shift himself closer to the table. He could hear the scratching of Umbridge’s quill.
He chanced another glance out of the window. Whoever was defending the goalposts now was doing a very poor job indeed.
Katie Bell scored twice in the few seconds Harry dared watch.
He lowered his gaze, looked at the long parchment; of which he had written less than one-fifth, and hoped very much that the Keeper wasn't Ron.
And so, Harry continued to write ‘I must not tell lies’ while occasionally stealing glances outside for a few seconds.
He saw a Keeper save all the balls, and there was a cheer erupting from the pitch, which could be heard faintly from the castle, and Harry wasn't sure if it was Ron, because the guy was performing exceptionally well!
Based on his understanding of helping Ron in training these days, it was a bit difficult for Ron to do this.
Just like that, the sky was darkening, Harry couldn't see anything, and his parchment was full of ‘I must not tell lies’, and his wrist was so sore that he didn't have the strength to write any more.
"Mr. Potter, I hope you can remember this sentence. If there is a next time, it will not be as simple!" said Umbridge’s soft voice, as she walked over, and took the parchment from Harry.
Their hands, Harry's and her short be-ringed fingers, touched briefly, and pain seared across the scar on his forehead.
At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.
Harry leapt to his feet and stared straight at her.
She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth.
"Well, Mr. Potter, you may go!" said Umbridge, not noticing anything unusual about Harry.
Harry caught up his schoolbag and left the room, his heart beating loud and fast.
His scar hadn't hurt for a long time, and Evan said that his scar pain could only be related to Voldemort.
Some terrible thoughts popped into Harry's mind.
Stay calm, he told himself as he sprinted up the stairs. Stay calm, it doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it means…
Anyway, he had to talk to Evan, to let him know about this piece of information.
“Mimbulus mimbletonia!” Harry gasped at the Fat Lady, who swung forward once more.
He froze for a moment, and a roar of sound greeted him.
Ron came running toward him, beaming all over his face and slopping butterbeer down his front from the goblet he was clutching.
“Harry, I did it, I’m in, I’m Keeper!”said Ron, almost crying.
"What? Oh … brilliant!" said Harry, trying to smile naturally, while his heart continued to race.
“Have a butterbeer.” Ron pressed a bottle onto him, "I can't believe it."
"Where’s Evan?" Harry asked urgently.
"Oh, he's there, with Hermione," said Ron, looking a little overwhelmed, not paying attention to Harry's tone, "I was selected, and Evan’s Starcatcher was a success. Gryffindor's having a double celebration today. We're definitely going to win the Quidditch Cup this year."
"Yeah, we’ll definitely win." Harry looked up and saw Evan and Hermione sitting on the sofa by the fire, a piece of parchment popped out of Evan’s arms, and he was writing something quickly on it with his head down, while Hermione was dozing next to him, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.
Harry wanted to go over, but he and Ron were intercepted by Lavender and a group of girls, all of them ecstatic.
"Harry, you're back!" Angelina and Katie walked over."We have a new Keeper now."
“Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver’s old robes fit you. He gave them to me when he graduated and I just dug them out," said Katie Bell with a smile. “We can take off his name and put yours on instead. He’ll certainly agree, and we can write him a letter about it."
As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Harry.
“Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier, Potter,” she said abruptly, taking a few sips of butterbeer. “It’s stressful, this managing lark, you know, I’m starting to think I was a bit hard on Wood sometimes."
She was watching Ron over the rim of her goblet with a slight frown on her face.
“Look, I know he’s your best mate, but he’s not fabulous,” she said bluntly. “I think with a bit of training he’ll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players. I’m banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. The Frobishers and Geoffrey Hooper all flew better this evening, but Hooper’s a real whiner, he’s always moaning about something or other, and Vicky and Vinnie involved in all sorts of societies, they admitted themselves that they couldn't attend training. Anyway, we’re having a practice session at two o’clock tomorrow, so just make sure you’re there this time, and bring your Firebolt. You can also test Evan's Starcatcher and compare it to the Firebolt. Oh, and I have one more favor to ask. Please help Ron as much as you can, okay?"
Harry nodded and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet.
