Armilla

Chapter Four

Promptly at six that evening, I knocked on the door of Umbridge's office.

"Come in," said a sickly sweet voice.

I opened the door and went in, immediately becoming disgusted by the site of her office. I would admit with no qualms that though I was a witch, I was not a cat person. Actually, I believed even cat lovers would have been turned off by this office. I had never seen so many prissy cat ornaments in my life. Or so much pink florally stuff. The woman was nuts.

"Hello dear," she said. She put down her quill and looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to say why I was there. Had I come at the right time? She had say six, hadn't she?

"Er...I'm here for detention."

"Ah yes...Miss Kemp, isn't it? Now, tell me why you received detention?" Her tone sounded like she really didn't know. Yep, the old bag was going to draw this out and make it painful.

"I had a newsletter in my bag," I said quietly.

"That's right. And have you realised your mistake, dear?"

"Yes." No, you raving nitwit. I never made a mistake!

"I am pleased then. Now just as a little...reminder, I would like you to write lines for me."

"I didn't bring my quill, Professor."

"Oh I never intended to have you use your own quill, Miss Kemp. I have a very special one that I would like you to use."

"Oh...alright." A special quill? A quill is a quill.

"Sit down, dear, you will be here for awhile. Now on this piece of parchment, and all the other parchment I have here, you will write I will not break school rules. Here is your quill. You won't need ink. You may begin."

I took the quill and began to write. I let out a small yelp of surprise. As soon as I had begun, a sharp pain shot through my hand. The red ink was glistening on the page. I noticed a cut in the back of my hand in the same shape as the letter I has started to write. I looked up at Umbridge. She either had not noticed or pretended not to, and was busy going through an essay. I started to write again and felt the same pain searing in my hand. Gradually the words I will not break school rules formed in my hand. The writing on the parchment, I came to realise, was not red ink, but my own blood. The woman was sick.

I had gone through four sheets of parchment before Umbridge asked to see my hand. She declared the words to still be quite faint, but with more detentions to come, she would soon declare herself satisfied. Personally, I begged to differ. The words etched into my hand were as clear as the light of day. But I knew not to say so.

o o o o o o o o o o o o

All the detentions with Umbridge that week continued in much the same fashion and by Friday the back of my left hand was red raw. My hand was so sore it really ached and it hurt to use it for simple things like holding a fork. I just hoped I would manage brewing that potion for Snape.

On Friday evening, Umbridge let me go a couple of minutes before seven and I had to run to the dungeons to avoid being late. I shouldn't have bothered. I arrived two minutes late, which in Snape's book was as bad as being twenty minutes late.

"You're late, Miss Kemp," he snapped irritably. "I have much better things to do with my time than wait for you to show up." That greasy bat. What would he have to do on a Friday night?

"Sorry," I muttered as I collected my ingredients and sat down. I avoided his gaze and set to work, preparing the ingredients. It was a difficult job to shred, dice, and skin with a throbbing left hand. I tried not to show that I was in pain. But it constantly felt like a million knives were stabbing my hand. At one stage, the pain became so bad that I gasped and the scalpel sliced into a finger on my right hand.

Thank God Snape didn't look up. I tried to stop the blood with a tissue I found in my pocket (Snape would hear if I started muttering charms to stop it). But the blood just kept oozing out.

"Miss Kemp, I do not believe fifth year Ravenclaw blood was listed as an ingredient for a Transparency potion." He was right next to me! How did the man move so silently? "Are you trying to be innovative in your potion making, or were you just being careless?"

"Just being careless," I murmured.

I didn't care if he saw the cut on my right finger, just as long as he didn't notice the whole sentence on the back of my left hand. He'd probably sneer at my stupidity for having landed so many detentions with Umbridge.

"Keep that tissue around your finger until I get a potion for it." With that he swept away towards his private stores. I would rather have gone to the hospital wing than have him touch my finger, but who was I to argue with the Great Lord and Master?

Shortly he returned carrying two small jars.

"Hand," he snapped. Obediently, I put out my right hand. Swiftly he administered the potion from one jar on my cut and covered it with a thin piece of plaster.

"Thanks," I said quietly when he had finished.

He didn't answer. Instead he opened yet another jar. "Now your other hand," he said.

I was truly confused. I hadn't shown him my other hand. In fact I had gone to great lengths to hide it from him.

"I didn't cut my other hand, sir," I said.

He looked at me closely, his dark eyes boring into mine. "I asked you for your other hand Miss Kemp."

I didn't know what else to do, so I showed him my left hand. He examined it with an expression of indifference.

"How did you know it was there?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer at first. Instead he chose to examine how deep the cuts were. Finally, he spoke, his gaze remaining on my hand.

"I had heard in the staffroom that you had detention with Dolores Umbridge. I know what goes on in her detentions as a couple of Slytherins have been to them and have shown me the result. I didn't expect your detentions with her to be any different." He soaked a piece of cloth with the substance from the jar. "Now, this will sting, but the potion will prevent it from scarring."

I didn't want to appear weak, so I held my breath instead of gasping when I felt the potion touch my skin.

"I could have gone to the hospital wing instead of troubling you," I said. To tell the truth, I was not comfortable with Snape healing my injuries.

"Yes, you could have gone to the hospital wing," he said indifferently. "But Madam Pomfrey is being forced by Dolores Umbridge, all privacy acts aside, to account for every student she sees in the hospital wing, no matter how small the injury. Dolores would undoubtedly give you more than detention if she found out that you seeked medical attention for an injury you sustained whilst in her detention."

He finally looked up and met my gaze, his eyes slightly narrowed. "It is between us that Professor Dumbledore has asked me to help students coming out from Dolores' detentions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," I said, nodding. "Thank you."

Again, he didn't answer me. His face was locked in an expression of surprise for several moments, before being replaced with a hard look, though still seeming unnerved. I followed his gaze to the bracelet on my left wrist. We sat there in silence as he just looked at it. Finally, whilst still looking at it, he spoke.

"Where did you get that bracelet?"

"I don't know. It has been there for as long as I can remember. I can't get it off."

"Of course you can't," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

Now it was my turn to look surprised. I looked up at him. "Sir?"

He didn't answer me. He touched the locket, and I immediately felt a rush of warmth through my body. I jumped. The look on his face told me he had felt it too. While he continued to touch it, I had the warm feeling inside. It was unnerving. That had never happened when Merle had touched it. Or Lisa. Or Terry. Or Dumbledore. When Snape finally let go, after examining it for sometime, the feeling went away.

"You may go, Miss Kemp," was all he said. He got up to put his potions away.

"But I still haven't finished my potion, sir," I said quietly.

"Are you daft? I told you to go! You are dismissed!" He bellowed at me.

I ran for it. I ran all the way back to the common and stopped for breath at the entrance. What had just happened? I knew he had felt the weird, but somehow comforting feeling too. Whatever it was, he had not seemed to like it. And I was not sure I did either.