v2 Chapter 940： Black feather pen

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry was so scared that he hurried back and he didn't notice her at first.

Because she was wearing a flamboyant print with a long hug, the color blended with the tablecloth on the desk behind her, and she couldn't tell.

"I, well, good evening, Professor Umbridge." Harry said unnaturally.

"Well, sit down!" she said, with a habitual smirk on her face, pointing to a small table with lace.

undefinedShe had placed a straight back chair next to it, and there was a blank parchment on the table, apparently for him.

"Yeah!" Harry did not move, he said, "This is the case, Professor Umbridge, um, before we start, I, um, I want to ask you something."

"Oh, what?" Her two-way bulging eyes smashed.

"Yes, I am a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I should go to the new goalkeeper's selection at five o'clock this Friday afternoon. I don't know if I can't close the confinement that night, and find another one. In the evening, I will make up." Harry finished, looking at Umbridge's expression, and added with uneasiness, "or a day off..."

His voice is getting lower and lower, because Umbridge's appearance tells him that this will not be useful.

"Oh, no, Mr. Porter, this is not a negotiation or a deal." Umbridge said that he opened his mouth and laughed so much that he had just swallowed a particularly delicious and juicy fly. "Oh, no, No, no. This is a punishment for your lie that spreads evil, despicable, and sensational. Mr. Porter, punishment can of course not be adjusted to meet the convenience of those who are at fault. No, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday, you They must come here at five o'clock in the afternoon and close the confinement as planned. I think that you missed some activities that you particularly like. This is actually a good thing. It should strengthen the lessons I intend to give you and let you fully understand. It is good for you to make your own mistakes."

Harry felt the blood rushed into his head and creaked in his ears.

Listening to her meaning, he is a lie that spreads evil, despicable, and sensational, and then comes to be punished.

But what he said is the truth, he said the truth!

Umbridge looked at Harry with a slight head and a smile on his face.

She seems that she is very clear about what he is thinking, waiting to see if he will attack again, yelling.

That look seems to be making a silent provocation, seeing that he dare not do this?

Harry really wanted to just pop it out, or rush it up. There are only two of them here...

He took a lot of effort, turned his eyes away from seeing her, and threw the bag down next to the straight back chair.

"Yes, Mr. Potter! It seems that punishment has already worked. We are now more able to control our emotions, right? Now, you have to write a few sentences for me. No, not with your feather pen. Umbridge said with a drop of help, and saw Harry bending over to open the bag, she added quickly, "You have to use a very unusual pen of mine, give it."

She handed him the long, sharp, sharp-pointed black quill on the table.

"Well, I want you to write: I can't lie." She said softly to her, with a smile on her face.

"How many times to write?" Harry asked, making a polite and courteous look.

"Oh, keep writing this sentence in your heart." Umbridge snorted and said, "Start writing."

She went to her desk and sat down, burying her head against a pile of parchment and looking like a batch of papers waiting to be revised.

Harry lifted his sharp black feather pen and found out what was missing.

"You didn't give me ink," he said.

"Oh, you don't need ink," Professor Umbridge said, with a slight smile in his voice.

Harry dropped the tip of the quill on the paper and wrote: I can't lie.

The next second, he got a cold breath.

The words that appear on parchment appear to be written in bright red ink.

At the same time, this line appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, and Li was deeply trapped in the flesh, as if he had carved it with a scalpel, however, just as he was licking these red and bright wounds. The skin healed again. The place where there was a word was only slightly redder than before, but it was smooth to the touch.

Harry turned to look at Umbridge. She was watching him, and the sly wide mouth became a smile.

"what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry said softly.

He looked down at the parchment and once again put the nib on it and wrote that I could not lie.

Once again, he felt the burning pain on his back, and the words were once again engraved into his skin.

After a few seconds, the wound healed again at a rate visible to the naked eye.

In this way, Harry wrote the line on parchment over and over again.

He soon discovered that he was not using ink, but his own blood.

Over and over again, these words carved into the back of his hand and healed.

Then, when he puts the nib on the parchment again, the words will appear again.

The time passed by a minute, about half an hour, was as long as Harry for centuries.

He bit his teeth and doesn't want to show a slight weakness.

Even if he was going to sit here all night, use this quill to cut his hand deeply.

咚, 咚, 咚, a knock on the door.

"Come in." Umbridge shouted greasyly, and Harry stopped to look at the door.

Immediately, his eyes slammed wide and he couldn't believe to see Ai Wen coming in.

"Good evening, Professor Umbridge!" Ai Wen also stunned!

He swallowed, and the decor of the room suddenly made him a goose bump on his body. It was terrible, which made him think of a mixture of Lady Patty's Tea House and Harry's Aunt's house. It is bright red.

Even the flaming prints on Umbridge seem to be in harmony with the surroundings.

Then he saw Harry sitting next to his desk and staring at himself. He was incompatible with everything here.

"Avon, what are you doing here?" Harry asked subconsciously.

"I invited Mr. Mason to come over and tea. I want to talk to the new male student council president of the school." Umbridge said with a smile, "Please continue, Mr. Potter, don't care about us."

Even so, Harry is still focused on what they want to say.

He didn't know how Avon would come here, but he still had to drink tea with Umbridge. Is Avon crazy? !

Still, the two of them reached a certain compromise.

Umbridge walked to the round tea table next to the fire with the prepared tea and pastries.

"Come, Mr. Mason, don't stand there," she said enthusiastically, wide-mouthed into a smile, indicating that Ai Wen sat across from him. "I have long wanted to talk to you."

"Well, can't we call Harry together?" Aiwen asked, looking at the quill in Harry's hand.

Following Avon's gaze, Umbridge noticed that Harry had been looking at it and shook his head.

"No, it doesn't work. Mr. Porter is being confined and confined. He must be serious when copying." She took out her wand and slammed it. A magic that prevented others from eavesdropping was wrapped around the tea table. What Harry did? I can't hear it.