Harry used to think that the mutual dislike between him and Snape was hatred. But after going to Umrich's place for confinement, he was surprised to find that his hatred for a person could reach a new high. Compared with Umrich, the vicious woman, Snape could be regarded as a moderate.

Umrich "kindly" told Harry that he could choose which three days of confinement he wanted. Harry decided to make it quick. From Tuesday night until Thursday, he had to stay in Umrich's office. This way, he could still attend Gryffindor's Quidditch team on Friday.

At five minutes to eight o 'clock on Tuesday night, he said goodbye to Ron and Hermione with a sad face and walked towards Umrich's office.

He knocked on the door and heard a coquettish voice call out, "Come in." Harry shook off the goosebumps and walked in cautiously.

Although he could tell Umrich's taste from her clothes, Harry was still shocked by the decorations in the office.

Everything was covered with a lace cover. Several vases full of dried flowers were placed on individual cushions. Colorful lace ribbons were tied around the vases. A set of decorative plates hung on one wall. On each plate, there was a big colorful cat wearing a different colored bow on its neck. Harry stood in the room, which was filled with a strong sense of contradiction with its owner, and could not help but feel a little nauseous.

"Come here, Mr. Potter." Umrich stood beside a small lace table and waved at him with a smile.

Harry walked over and put down his schoolbag.

There was a hardwood straight-backed chair beside the table, and there was a blank parchment on the table. Apparently, it was prepared for him.

"What do I need to do?" Harry asked after sitting down.

"Oh, it's very simple. I want you to write a few sentences for me, Mr. Potter.

No, not with your quill, 'she added quickly, seeing Harry fumble in his satchel.' You're going to use the pen I made just for you.

Here. "She handed Harry a quill with a black gleam and a razor-sharp tip." Here. "

"I want you to write: I can't lie." Her voice was very soft, but Harry didn't miss the deep malice hidden in her words.

Is that so?

Just because he told the truth in class and told everyone that the Lord Voldemort had returned?

Harry thought sarcastically that this woman really treated them like three-year-old children. What kind of punishment was this?

Copy the sentences!

She probably thought that if she let Harry write a few more times, he would really believe that she was lying.

Harry decided to fulfill this childish request. He raised his head and asked like an obedient child, "How many times?"

"Oh, keep writing until it's engraved in your heart." Umrich smiled sweetly at him, seemingly implying something.

Harry watched her turn and walk to the big desk and sit down.

He frowned in confusion, raised the sharp black quill pen, and then realized that something was missing.

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

"No, you don't need ink," Umrich looked at him with interest, holding her chin. "Write."

Harry put the tip of the quill pen on the parchment and wrote: I can't lie.

He gasped in pain.

The words that appeared on the parchment looked like they were written with blood.

At the same time, the words appeared on the back of his hand as if they were carved with a knife, and he almost cried out in pain.

He turned to look at Umrich, who was looking at him with a satisfied and excited smile on her hama face.

"What's wrong, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked down. The skin on his hand had healed after he finished writing, but he still remembered the burning pain.

"Nothing," he said softly.

He realized that he had made a big mistake. This woman was not a childish and harmless Hama. She was a cold and cruel poisonous spider.

The Ministry of Magic sent such a person to teach students. How could Dumbledore agree!

He lowered his head and did not look at Umrich. Again, he put the tip of the quill on the parchment and wrote: I can't lie.

The pain fell on the back of his hand again, but he had made up his mind to ignore it.

He knew that Umrich was looking at him, waiting for him to beg for mercy … Harry's fighting spirit was completely aroused. The cowards of the Ministry of Magic only knew how to cover up the truth, but they could not make him yield!

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

He had a feeling that the parchment was sucking his blood. Although the wound would heal every time he finished writing, the blood did not return to his body as the wound healed. A very small part of the blood was forever left on the parchment.

Vicious woman … Trash … Despicable … Evil … Harry cursed in his heart as he wrote. After a few hours, Umrich said to him, "Come here, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked at the back of his hand as he got up. He found that the wounds could no longer heal as smoothly as before. The skin there was red and tender flesh was exposed.

He stood in front of Umrich and tried hard to recall the look of disgust on Snape's face when she looked at him. He imitated Snape and stared at her coldly. He did not want to be at a disadvantage.

"It's a sweet evening, Mr. Potter." Umbridge took his hand and held it close to his eyes for a closer look.

Harry felt the hair on his back stand up in an instant. He pulled his hand back fiercely.

Umrich let him pull his hand back with a sweet smile on her face.

She clicked her tongue and said, "I really hate to say goodbye. But we still have two more nights, right?"

Perverted, disgusting!

Harry cursed silently in his heart.

He tried to restrain his anger and asked in a calm voice, "Can I go now?

Professor Umrich. "

"Of course, of course."

She looked at him with a smile. "Very good. We're better able to control our emotions now, aren't we?"

Harry threw his bag over his shoulder without saying a word and left Umrich's office.

Wednesday was still a difficult day for Harry.

Professor Mcgonagall announced in the Transfiguration class that they were going to start learning the Vanishing Spell. This was a frequent and difficult test.

Harry took down a lot of obscure notes, but he still did not understand Donald's Law. Did it mean that as long as an object could be transformed, it would disappear?

Or as long as an object could disappear, it would be transferred to a temporary space?

In the last ten minutes of practice, no one in the class was able to successfully cast the Vanishing Spell. Only Hermione managed to make her practice snail a little more transparent.

Professor Graplan still taught the Conservation of Magical Creatures class, and Haig still had not returned.

Professor Graplan introduced them to the Bowtruckle, an ugly, bark-like creature with long, sharp nails. They needed to observe it carefully and submit a sketch of the Bowtruckle's body parts in the next class.

After lunch, Hermione went to the Ancient Magic class, while Harry and Ron went to the Divination class in the tower.

When he thought of seeing Professor Trelawney again, who was deliberately mystifying and endlessly predicting Harry's death, and sitting in the room full of strange incense for two classes, Harry felt his eyelids drooping.

To his surprise, Ron also looked sleep-deprived.

"Did you …" Harry opened his mouth, but didn't know how to ask.

Did you do something behind our backs last night?

No, that's not appropriate.

However, Ron understood what he meant when he saw the look in his eyes.

He patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly and yawned.

"Nothing, Harry.

I only wanted to - "Ron broke off in mid-sentence, but Harry saw that the tips of his ears were red.

"What's the matter?" He wanted to ask more, but Ron waved his hand and interrupted him.

"It's not a big deal. We'll talk about it when you're out of confinement on Thursday.

By the way, "Ron suddenly remembered something and asked," I forgot to ask this morning. What did Umrich ask you to do? "

"Ah, that, nothing," Harry pursed his lips and hid his left hand in his sleeve. "She asked me to … write sentences."

"That's tolerable.

I'll tell Hermione later. She's been worried. "Ron was obviously relieved and then said excitedly," If she punishes Gower to write sentences, it'll be so funny. "

He imitated Gower's stupid look and said in a muffled voice, "I — don't — know — how — to — fight —"