Chapter Text
“She’s a foul, evil gargoyle!” had become one of Hermione’s more frequent declarations as she, Harry, and Ron left Umbridge’s class, and that particular day had been no exception. What was different, though, was that the trio was unaware that the woman was in the hallway, as well, having left the classroom only a minute after their own departure.
“We might as well be taught by a pigeon!” Hermione continued, enraged.
Harry chuckled before his friend added with indignation, “Actually, a pigeon would probably be a better teacher than her; at least the bird would have a brain.”
“Hem hem.”
The noise stopped the friends in their tracks; Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned slowly to see their sad excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor standing behind them, her face a foul shade of red that her sweet tone failed to counter, “Pardon me, Miss Granger, perhaps I heard incorrectly, but surely you weren’t speaking so disrespectfully about a professor.”
Hermione said nothing, but the flush in her cheeks gave her away, despite her innocent expression.
“I think such disrespect merits detention,” Umbridge said, “See me this evening after supper.”
“Yes ma’am,” Hermione replied in a barely audible whisper.
Harry and Ron both gaped at Hermione as they continued through the hallway toward their next classes. No one spoke until bidding each other goodbye as Harry parted from them to the Charms classroom, Ron and Hermione heading to the dungeons to attend Potions.
Shockingly, Ron didn’t bring up the encounter with Umbridge; he and Hermione started brewing the assigned potion in silence.
Although she hadn’t said anything, rage was boiling inside Hermione with more fury than her cauldron. When she finally couldn’t contain it any longer, she loudly exclaimed, “I cannot believe I have detention!” She hadn’t realized how loudly she had cried out until she heard all conversing in the room halt abruptly, every eye on her.
With surprising slowness, Snape approached her, “Did I hear correctly? Perfect student Granger has detention? Did a teacher finally tire of your incessant arrogance?”
Hermione shook her head, “I called Umbridge a gargoyle.”
The corner of Snape’s mouth twitched.
“A brainless gargoyle, actually,” Ron corrected.
“A brainless gargoyle,” Hermione repeated.
“I see,” Snape said before walking away. “Oh, and ten points from Gryffindor for your outburst, Granger.”
Following dinner and Harry’s somber bid of good luck, Hermione entered Umbridge’s office; it looked as though a cotton candy machine had exploded.
“Good evening, Miss Granger,” Umbridge greeted her in her sickeningly syrupy tone, “You’ll be doing lines for me.”
Hermione sat at the single desk, facing Umbridge’s own.
The teacher held out a piece of parchment and a deep red quill; Hermione took them, “What do you want me to write?”
Sitting at the desk adorned with horrendous trinkets and plaques bearing playful kittens, Umbridge replied, “How about, ‘I will respect all my teachers’? You may begin.”
Hermione cast the pink monstrosity a glare then began scratching the line onto the paper ‘I will respect all – ’ She felt a small cut being made in the skin on the back of her hand with each stroke and quickly realized that the red ink she was writing with was her own blood, the letters being carved into her hand as she wrote them.
Appalled and sickened, Hermione shot the teacher another icy glance before an idea struck her.
Two hours later, Hermione was relieved to hear Umbridge sniff, “I think that shall be enough. You’re dismissed, Miss Granger; you can bring me your lines.”
Hermione approached the professor’s desk and handed her the paper.
Umbridge’s eyes flitted over it before lifting to Hermione’s impassive expression, “What is this?”
“My lines, Professor.”
“You will return tomorrow evening, as well, Miss Granger.”
“Yes ma’am,” Hermione said, bowing out of the room as Umbridge opened a desk drawer and placed the paper reading repeated lines of ‘I will respect all my deserving teachers’ in it.