Lupin's disappointment burned.

Harry felt it when he stepped back into the Gryffindor common room, and it weighed on him when he settled into bed. He felt much like he had back in the third year, when Lupin had confiscated the Marauder's Map from him and scolded him for risking his life and dishonoring his parents' sacrifice. He was surprised, then, how much more a lecture could hurt coming from someone who he respected. Snape didn't hold back with his cruel words, but they never stung nearly as much as Lupin's careful, gentle chastisement.

He wasn't sure what Lupin was going to do next, and thinking about it kept him awake, tossing and turning. He was pretty sure Lupin would talk to McGonagall now, and he couldn't imagine it going well.

But what followed in the next few weeks didn't give Harry any clues about what Lupin might have done or said. Umbridge was as horrible and unhelpful in class as she ever was, but he couldn't tell whether she was getting worse because of something he did, or if it was just a natural escalation. He avoided any more detentions with her, but he would have happily accepted another nine detentions over what did happen.

Banned from Quidditch. For life.

Harry considered reaching out to Lupin, but he knew it wouldn't help. There would be nothing he could do. He did send a message by Owl, as he'd been occasionally writing to Lupin along with writing to Sirius, but there was no point in meeting face to face for this. If Harry were injured, Murtlap could help. But there was nothing that could have helped with this.

He was able to distract himself with other matters over the holidays, but there were new complications when classes resumed. Umbridge released a new order that forbade Hogwarts professors from speaking with their students about anything other than their academic subject areas.

It was a frustrating development, though far from the worst they'd had. At least it lead to some funny stories in classes. Harry's favorite was when Lee Jordan reminded Umbridge that she wasn't allowed to tell him off for playing Exploding Snap in class, because it wasn't part of the curriculum.

A few days later, Harry passed Jordan in the corridors.

He was smiling a bit—he almost always was—but Harry knew what Jordan's smile looked like, and this wasn't it. The corners of his eyes twitched just a bit, and his breathing was a bit labored. Harry glanced down at his hand. He'd wrapped it in a scarf. The fabric of the scarf was already red, so anyone who wasn't looking for it might not notice that blood was seeping through.

Jordan passed by, giving Harry a quick nod. Harry glanced around him to make sure no one was around, then turned to call after Jordan, "What did she make you write?"

Jordan stopped short, whirling to face Harry. "How did you know?"

Harry held out his own hand. "I must not tell lies."

Jordan's eyes widened when he saw the mark, then he smirked and glanced down at his own hand. "I must behave."

Harry winced. The shorter sentence meant more repetition over the same areas—no wonder he was bleeding so badly. And internally, he was kicking himself. Lupin had been right. Harry had been so convinced that he would be Umbridge's only victim, but Lupin had known better. This was Harry's fault.

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"It's gonna be a wicked scar," Jordan said. There was humor in his voice and a curl to his lips, but the pain in his eyes ruined the effect.

Harry made himself smile along, but his eyes fell back on the bloodied scarf. Jordan had been headed away from the common rooms, so maybe . . . "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

Jordan shrugged. "Don't see what good it would do."

"Where are you going?"

"Figured I'd go outside and get some snow. It's better than an ice pack."

"Yeah, but not as good as Murtlap."

Jordan's eyebrows raised. "Snape mentioned that stuff in Potions a couple of weeks back. I'll have to give it a go. It's good?"

"Total relief. Soak a bandage in it and wrap up your hand, it'll let you sleep without pain."

Jordan smiled, a real smile this time. "Thanks, mate."

Harry nodded, and they each went their separate ways. His heart pounded hard against his ribcage as he thought about everything Jordan had said and everything Lupin had told him weeks ago. Guilt tore at his insides. Maybe he couldn't have prevented this, but he could have at least tried.

Harry was halfway to the common room before he turned on his heel and headed to McGonagall's office instead.

He didn't even knock. The door was slightly open, and he ran right into the room.

She looked up from her work at her desk, peering at him over the upper rim of her glasses. "Mr. Potter—"

"Professor, I'm sorry, but you have to do something about Umbridge."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is this about Quidditch again? Because I assure you—"

"It's not about that, it's about Lee Jordan."

"I'm aware he received detentions for speaking out in class."

"It wasn't just detention. She hurt him. She made him write lines with a quill that cut the words into the back of his hand and used his blood for ink."

"A blood quill?"

"Yes."

For a moment, she said nothing. She just sat at her desk, quill frozen in her hand, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

"I—I'm sorry, Professor."

She set down her quill, and her lips pressed together into a thin line. "Mr. Potter, show me your hand."

He stammered. "Professor, I—"

"Your hand, Potter."

He swallowed and held out his right hand, palm down. She took his hand in hers, frowning at the scar. He braced himself for the lecture, the explosion, the scolding of his lifetime.

Instead, her head hung as she let go of his hand. "I hope you will forgive me."

"Huh?"

"I know I am a strict professor, Harry, and I'll never apologize for pushing my students to their best, both behaviorally and academically. But for anything I might have done or said that made you feel you couldn't speak to me about this . . . for that, you have my sincerest apologies."

He breathed in to tell her it had had nothing to do with anything she'd said, but he stopped himself. It wouldn't have been quite true. "I, er, I forgive you."

"Is this why you went to visit Remus Lupin during the last term?"

"Yes. Profess—I mean, Mr. Lupin told me to tell you about what was going on, but I didn't think Umbridge would do this to anyone else." Now, though, Harry understood how Lupin had felt. He couldn't imagine waiting to see if Umbridge might hurt someone else other than Jordan—Lupin had been compelled to act on account of Harry alone.

"I'll speak to Dumbledore right away, and we'll file a report. You may need to speak in court, along with Mr. Jordan."

"Okay." He wasn't looking forward to that, but it would be worth it, if it could actually protect other students from Umbridge.

"You'll need to make a statement. I'd like for you to visit Mr. Lupin again, to help prepare your speech."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. I believe it would be best for you to be prepared as soon as possible."

He swallowed hard.

She stood from her desk. "It would be wise to complete your homework as early as possible this evening, Mr. Potter, seeing as you're going to be quite busy after dinner."

"I will." Harry didn't like the idea much, but Hermione would be thrilled.

McGonagall stared at him for a moment, then said, "Please never hesitate to speak with me if another professor—or student—is treating you in this way. You will never be punished for doing so. However, if I ever again discover you have suffered unnecessarily when you could have sought help . . ."

"I understand, professor."

She nodded, and walked him out of her office, where they parted ways.