Work Text:
This detention will never end.
The Blood Quill scrapes over the paper. Every movement brings a fresh, sharp sting; every bit of blood on the paper is a bright, lovely scarlet, warm and wet as his own heart's blood. Endless lines of slicing red, spelling out the same words:
I must not tell lies, I must not tell lies...
A girlish giggle drifts through the air toward him, and Harry grits his teeth. He'll survive this. The Dursleys didn't break him. Dolores Umbridge won't either.
He just wishes the Wizarding World would stop proving as cruel as the Muggle one.