Chapter 32: Social Dynamics

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In the softly illuminated common room, bathed in the flickering glow of the fireplace, Celestia Malfoy reclined in an armchair next to her best friend, Daphne Greengrass.

The evening had settled in lazily, casting shadows across the room as Celestia, weary from a lengthy Quidditch practice, allowed her long hair to cascade loosely over her shoulders. Despite her physical fatigue, her mind raced with thoughts of the peculiar scar she had glimpsed on her boyfriend's arm earlier.

The words I must not tell lies echoed in Celestia's mind, a haunting reminder of the ominous marking she had witnessed. Curiosity had compelled her to seek answers, and she had found herself seated on the cool grass of the Quidditch pitch earlier in the afternoon, engaging in a conversation with Warrington, a fellow Slytherin. "Oh, it's Umbridge," he had casually remarked, his charming smirk belying the seriousness of the subject.

As Celestia probed further, expressing her concern about the scars she had seen on students' hands, Warrington's response had been unsettling. "She does that to the students who are extremely... out of line," he explained, his tone tinged with a hint of discomfort. The notion of such punishment being approved by the Ministry left Celestia frowning, uncertain of how to address the situation without involving adults and potentially raising suspicions.

With a thoughtful pause, Warrington continued, offering insight into Umbridge's methods. "She asks the students to do lines with blood-quills, reminiscent of the punishments our ancestors used to employ," he divulged, his gaze momentarily shifting to Crabe, who swung his beater's bat with the force of a troll. "It's almost cruel, out of fashion now. I'd suggest you try not to get into detention with her," he cautioned, his words hanging in the air with a weighty solemnity that left Celestia nodding in silent agreement. "Not that she'll dare to use blood-quills on you, given the Malfoy name"

"Alright, spill it," Daphne quipped suddenly, snapping Celestia back to reality, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow Daphne continued, "You look like you've just faced a Hungarian Horntail. What's got you all knotted up?"

Celestia hesitated for a moment, torn between keeping her concerns to herself and confiding in her friend. Eventually, she relented, her voice betraying a hint of unease. "It's Umbridge," she admitted reluctantly. "Her detentions... they're... they're positively dreadful."

Daphne rolled her eyes dramatically, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Oh, please. You're a Slytherin, Celestia. We don't cower in fear at the mere mention of a meddling Ministry lackey."

Despite Daphne's attempt to brush off her worries, Celestia couldn't be at ease, that woman was targeting her boyfriend and she needed to stop it somehow "But what if... what if she finds some reason to target us?" she mused aloud, her brow furrowing with concern.

Daphne scoffed dismissively, waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air. "Please. Our parents practically run the Ministry. Umbridge wouldn't dare cross us. Since when you started getting worried over someone like her anyways, she's not worth your time Celestia."

Celestia decided to let her friends know about the actual troubling matter. "There's something else, though," she confessed hesitantly. "I saw... I saw a scar on Harry Potter's hand. It said... it said 'I must not tell lies.'"

Daphne's eyes widened in surprise, her facade of indifference slipping for a moment. "Merlin's beard," she murmured, a flicker of sympathy softening her features. "That's... that's awful. Poor Potter."

Celestia nodded solemnly, her worry for Harry Potter mingling with her own fears. "I just can't shake the feeling that something's not right," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Warrington told me she is using blood-quills on him"

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