Fear of a Name

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Detention

"Miss Riddle," Snape hissed, stalking over to me. "Detention, my office, six o'clock tonight. And if I ever hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," I said quietly, my mask slipping as the fear became evident in my eyes.
He sneered at me and started prowling around the classroom as we made notes in silence. I could almost feel the glances that the rest of the class were giving me as I kept my head bent over my work, my long, black hair falling into my face as I tried to avoid giving Snape any more reasons to be mad at me.

When the bell rang for the end of class, Snape said, "You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognise and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them in by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Now get out."
We picked up our books, quills, ink and parchment, put them in our bags, and walked out of the classroom. As soon as we were out of earshot, the whole class burst out into a furious tirade about Snape, some still glancing at me every now and then.

"Snape's never been like this with any of our other Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, even if he did want the job," Harry said. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? D'you think this is all because of the Boggart?"
"I don't know," said Hermione. "But I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..."

"Two rolls of parchment!" someone else said, clearly annoyed.
"I'm not doing it," I announced loudly to the class. "I don't think any of us should. The best way to irritate Snape is to not do what he says. Lupin'll back us up, you know he'd never make us do that much homework, especially on a topic we haven't covered yet."
There were murmurs of agreement all around, and a few people shot me curious glances.
"But you seemed terrified of Snape, why're you suddenly trying to irritate him?" Seamus asked me.
I smirked slightly, faking confidence.
"Let's just say that there are ways I'm expected to act around certain people," I replied, choosing my words carefully so as not to give anything away. "Come on, we'd better all get to lunch before we miss it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I really ought to go to my detention with Snape now," I said to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "If I'm not back by tomorrow morning, send a search party." I rolled my eyes and smiled slightly at their scared and confused faces. "I was kidding, guys! I'll see you later!"

I trudged to Snape's office and knocked three times on the door, my hand shaking. No matter what I had said to the rest of the class about it all being an act, I was scared. In fact, scratch that — I was terrified.
"Enter."
I took a deep breath and walked into the room, not even taking in my surroundings due to the amount of fear I was feeling.
"Miss Riddle, I believe I told you to come at six?" Snape said coldly.
"Yes, sir."
"Then you are—" he checked his watch "—one minute and thirty-seven seconds late."
I bit my lip nervously and said nothing.

"Sit."
I sat down quickly at the desk Snape pointed to, wondering what was going to happen with a feeling of dread.
"You're going to be writing some lines today," he said, his eyes glinting maliciously as he handed me a quill, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Bloody Dolores, taking credit for my stuff, the pink toad."

"What am I going to be writing, sir, and how many times?" I asked quietly, knowing that there must be some kind of catch — writing lines was far too simple a punishment, especially by Snape's standards.
"You will write 'I must not defend Mudbloods and half-breeds' until I tell you to stop."
I shook my head slightly, and he suddenly looked ready to kill.
"Or I can use the Cruciatus Curse on you. It's your choice," he sneered.

I picked up the quill quickly, knowing that there was no way I'd be able to withstand that curse, not after everything that had happened that day, and especially not after all the acting I'd done to try and keep everyone from finding out the truth about what Mother and Father did to me. Acting, as it turns out, was exhausting.
"Sir? You — you haven't given me any ink," I said, a little confused.
"You won't be needing ink. Now write."

This peculiar statement only increased my confusion, but, nevertheless, I put the quill on the parchment in front of me and reluctantly wrote out 'I must not defend Mudbloods and half-breeds'. A second later, I felt a painful stinging on my right hand; I looked down, and saw the words I had just written being cut into it as if by an invisible knife.
"Is there a problem?" Snape said as my eyes flitted up at him, watering slightly from the pain.
"No, sir," I replied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it was hurting me.

I thought, for the briefest of moments, that I saw the image of a girl in his mind — a girl with red hair, a pretty face and sparkling green eyes; eyes which I seemed to recognise, though I couldn't remember ever meeting her. As soon as I tried to get a better look, however, the memory of her vanished.

"Keep writing then."