The next week, I kept writing lines in detention and my old sentence didn’t get to heal before another one was written. It hurt even more when a new sentence was carved into the one from the day before because it was still sore. On Monday, Umbridge entered our charms class to inspect Professor Flitwick and she was being very stuck-up, looking like she was very amused and full of herself at the same time. Today was September 15th and it was Friday. It was also my last day of detention so that made me quite happy but I was still dreading five o’clock when I had to write another line and feel the pain even more.
My hand didn’t even get to heal because words kept being carved into my skin so I was happy to finally be able to rest and let it heal. No words could ever explain how much I hated that woman. I had just finished drawing Fred with the sketchbook that George gave me last year and Fred had been really excited to see the drawing of him come to life.
“I told you you shouldn’t have drawn me.” Fred commented when he noticed how I opened and closed my hand afterwards, hurting from having the hand wrapped tightly around the sketchbook. “Could’ve waited until it was healed.”
“Don’t pity me.” I said, looking at him and seeing how bad he felt for me. I sent him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”
I pushed myself up from the sofa and walked into the dormitory. I put away the sketchbook before finding my textbook for muggle studies and my quill. I had to write an essay about muggle money for in about two weeks.
“Have you finished your essay yet?” I asked Fred when I joined him in the common room again. I glanced at him as I sat down by the table and placed my textbook in front of me along with my quill.
“I haven’t even started it.”
“Well that’s irresponsible.” I said with a little chuckle.
“It’s boring, Lizzie.” He groaned, rolling his eyes as he dramatically threw his head back and slid down the sofa until he landed on the floor and he just stayed there.
“What in the world are you doing?” I laughed, earning a groan from him before he stood up and made his way over, jumping onto the table where he sat.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” I nodded, opening my textbook onto an empty page.
“You have to promise not to tell anyone though.”
“I promise.” I told him and looked up to meet his eyes. “What’s up?”
He scrunched his face up as if he was in pain and then jumped off the table. “Never mind.” “What? Fred!” I called as he walked towards the painting. “It’s that bad? Fred! You okay?!”
The painting closed behind him and I sighed, leaning back in the chair. What was that all about?
I decided to brush it off and maybe ask him later but right now, I needed to start writing my essay and make sure it was thorough so I’d get top grades for it.
Later that day, I spent detention with Umbridge and my hand was now even more painful than it was this morning. My skin was burning and I didn’t have my wand on me so I couldn’t exactly hide it when I walked into the Great Hall for dinner.
As I sat down with my friends, they all looked at me, waiting for me to assure them I was fine and that I did.
“Can I see it?” George asked, glancing placing his hand on the table, palm up.
“It’s sore.” I said, placing my hand in his. “Be careful.”
“It looks so bad.” He said. “You need to take care of it, Liz. Why haven’t you bandaged it?”
“I forgot my wand in the common room.” I said. “Otherwise I would’ve.”
He glanced at me before he pulled out his wand and gently tapped my hand. “Ferula.”
“Thank you.” I said as the bandage wrapped around my hand. He sent me a soft smile before wrapping an arm around my neck, planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Now we just need you to stay out of trouble.” Fred said. “We’ve agreed that you’re not allowed on any more of our pranks.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Dead serious.” George said, dropping his arm from me to grab some food. “You’ve been in so much pain all week from her punishment. You’re not going to be a part of our pranks and you’re gonna stay out of trouble. Don’t talk back to her, don’t disobey the rules, show up in class at time and do nothing but what you’re supposed to.”
“Alright.” I scoffed. “Dad.”