Birth of DA

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Ashlyn and Harry had different times for detention. Harry had it first, then it was Ashlyn. At first, Ashlyn thought that this was because there was only one wretched black quill. But that, however, didn't seem satisfying. That night she found the answer why...

When she entered Umbridge's office, Harry was already there writing with that damned quill.

"Ah, Miss Clarke!" Umbridge called. "Just on time. Let's wait for Harry to finish his detention, and you can sit here," she pointed at a chair, from where Ashlyn could clearly see Harry.

"Is your hand alright?' Umbridge asked in her sickly sweet voice.

"Oh yes," Ashlyn replied just as chirpily. "Just I didn't want to look at that rubbish all day, you see,"

Umbridge just smiled at her.

Ashlyn sat down. She couldn't help notice Harry bleeding out. Umbridge was pushing him harder, and it could be seen with the look she had. Every now and then, she would glance at Ashlyn to see how she was reacting. Ashlyn, however, had an expressionless look as she watched Harry.

It was past eleven o'clock when Harry was done with his detention. He left, his bleeding hand wrapped in a scarf.

Umbridge gave Ashlyn the quill after wiping the tip carefully.

Ashlyn ripped off the bandages and wrote again.

Ashlyn was writing the same lines again and again with her blood. The words etched into her skin again over the old wounds.

It was oddly fascinating, seeing her blood fall onto the parchment, in elegant curves and lines. And it gave her the temptation to go up and bitch slap Umbridge...sorry, Hem hem...Umbitch.

Her detention went well into the midnight, past one o'clock and ended at two. 

Goodness, didn't that bitch go to sleep?

"Hmm..." Umbridge said as she examined Ashlyn's hand.

"Miss Clarke, if you refuse to talk, I'll have to resort to other methods," Umbridge said.

Ashlyn didn't say anything.

"I am sure you saw Mr Potter's fate today. Wouldn't it be unfortunate if it were to happen to your other dear friends? Imagine Mr Weasely would be kicked out of the Gryffindor team, his dreams shattered. Miss Granger would tarnish her perfect record, all her hopes," 

Umbridge had a sick smile on her face.

"So tell me. Tell me everything and I'll let your friends go unharmed for now,"

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Ashlyn asked smirking.

"Wow, Professor, you really need to improve on that. That was the lousiest threat I've ever heard," Ashlyn bluffed. That threat had hit here right where Umbridge had wanted it to. Ashlyn didn't want anything bad to happen to Hermione, Harry and Ron, or any of her other friends.  But she couldn't let Umbridge know that. 

"You're going to have to try harder. Do you think Hermione, Harry and Ron won't understand? They'll completely support me. So I'm not worried," Ashlyn said.

"And what? Shatter their hopes and dreams? With all due respect, Professor Umbridge, that is utter rubbish. Anyway, I'd like to see you fuelling their ambitions," Ashlyn sassed.

Ashlyn got up. "Oh, Professor Umbridge," she said in an innocent, sweet tone. "Do you have those decorative cat plates, because even the real animals can't stand to stay around you? Must be," 

She shrugged and turned her back to Umbridge who was gaping at her, forgetting how to speak, overwhelmed with rage.

"Since you are so desperate to know," Ashlyn was at the door.  "I'll take pity on you,"

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