Chapter 240: The Time of Quinn & Quill (1/2)
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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Umbridge's office was as Quinn had seen uncountable times through a screen, every surface draped with lacy clothes and frilly covers. It had the same overwhelming scent of peony flowers that he had to cover his nose away from while on his few visits to the office. The wall that seemed to be Umbridge's foul shrine to kitten decorated plates still made him uncomfortable.
”Please sit down, Mr. West.”
Quinn removed his eyes from dead flowers in the vases and casually made his way to the straight-backed chair prepared for him. He sat down and set his hands on the small table draped in fresh lace; he caressed the pattern of the frills with his digits — trying to feel the history of numerous cutting wounds and trickling blood, wondering if she cleaned the covers or replaced them every time.
Umbridge scampered around the room, preparing the supplies for the detention, getting the giggles while doing it.
”There you go,” she placed a stack of parchment on the table and, with trembling hands, gently laid a black quill on top, ”we're now ready to start on your disciplinary rehabilitation. From today, we're going to work together and put in the effort to instill in you the qualities of a fine young wizard. Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me. You have the quill and parchment; please start without delay.”
She leaned forward, her face above his head, as she whispered in the softest of voices, ”I want you to write, 'I will obey Professor Umbridge.'” Quinn felt her hand brush from his shoulder to shoulder as she passed by towards her own chair across his small table, behind her own full-sized desk.
He lazily shrugged at her intent gaze, barely holding the sparkle within. He picked up the black quill and asked, ”Ink, please” — he had to pretend to be a first-timer.
”It's a special pen, dear,” she giggled with a closed mouth, ”you won't be needing ink.”
”How convenient.. .”
Quinn placed the nip on the parchment, almost tearing the page with its unnatural sharpness, and wrote the first line: I will obey Professor Umbridge.
Umbridge's cheekbones rose at the sight of the red words being inked on the parchment. She leaned forward to get a good look above scalpel cuts that appeared on the back of Quinn's hand. But she felt a strange sense of discordance at the sight she had enjoyed so many times. Umbridge tried to pinpoint on hit; for a few seconds, it evaded her like a mice evading a cat on its trail, but when the cat finally caught up, the reason became apparent.
He hasn't stopped writing, she thought. Not a single student he had handed the blood quill had even continued to write after the first cut; they had all stopped writing to inspect the sudden injury.
She looked up and abruptly came face to face with dull, bottomless, even dead eyes staring down at her, and even as she was trapped in the stare, Umbridge could hear the pen's nip scribbling against the parchment. She slowly leaned away, but Quinn's gaze remained — directly looking at her without as much as a twitch on his face.
The wound on the back of his hands healed.
I will obey Professor Umbridge.
I will obey Professor Umbridge.
The cuts appeared on Quinn's hand again, but he paid them no attention and continued to look at Umbridge as if he was amid doodling stray scribbles and not bloodletters.
”Mr. West.. .”
”Yes, Professor?”
”Why're you looking at me?”
Quinn tilted his head, ”No particular reason. In this room, I find you of the most interest.”
”.. . I would suggest that you pay attention to your punishment and do it diligently. This isn't for you to find interesting, but to look back on your actions and find and think on your faults.”
”I'm taking this seriously,” he said and raised the first page of parchment. ”See? I have already completed a page, and I assure you that I'm diligently retrospecting my actions. Looking at you helps me keep the incident fresh in my mind.”
I will obey Professor Umbridge.
”Look down at your parchment, Mr. West.”
”I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable.” However, he didn't look down and wrote: I will obey Professor Umbridge.
And on it went. Again and again Quinn wrote the words on the parchment, and again and again his hand got cut, healed, and then cut again — rinse and repeat. But in all those long hours, Quinn never looked away from Umbridge even for a second; he continued to singlemindedly stare at her. Somewhere in that time, Umbridge couldn't take Quinn's anymore and looked away. She pretended that Quinn didn't exist and started to grade assignments as if it was any regular after-school today.
When darkness fell outside Umbridge's window, she finally broke the silence. ”That will be all for today. We will continue tomorrow.”
Quinn put down the blood quill on the considerably thinner stack of blank parchment. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the blood trails, dry and fresh — leaving behind a tender yet intact skin. And he did it without looking away from Umbridge.
After that, Quinn stood up and left without saying a word in reply. He walked in the deserted corridors; the sound of his footstep could be heard as he walked by with only the occasional portrait briefly opening their eyes to throw a drowsy glance at him before returning to their shut-eye again.
He felt a slight tug on his trousers, but Quinn showed no reaction to it. He felt the tug crawl up his leg, then on his shirt, up at his shoulder, and finally, Quinn raised his hand up to see a pink cube with spider legs crawl around his arm's length, making its way to his palm. It did a swivel on his palm, like a cat would do in its resting place, before retreating its spider-legs and making his palm its new home.
”Good job, little fellow,” he smiled. ”I think a Potter and a West with a long string of young children would be enough, don't you think?”
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- (Scene Break) -
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What followed the next day were looks of pity. Wherever Quinn went, he was met by sympathetic head tilts and nods, words of comfort, and all sorts of consolation gifts.
”This is freaking hilarious!” Eddie cackled at Quinn, who held an assortment of chocolates from Zonkos, given to him by a pair of Hufflepuff girls. ”Hey, hey, Quinn, listen.. . are you sad that your toy box got taken because you were naughty. Do you want sweets to cheer you up? You have a lot of them waiting for you on your table back in our room!”
Quinn openly stared down, rapidly blinking at the box of chocolates. He was at a loss for words. What sort of brazen gall was this? Had the brains of Hogwarts students melted due to lack of intellectual challenge? They gave him chocolate. Him! Quinn West, The MC, The Master of Chocolates.
He turned his eyes away from the chocolate box to Eddie, who was hunched over with a hand on a wall, wheezing his guts out.
”Oh shut up!” Quinn said and got in response a raised-finger, asking for a minute, in which Eddie proceeded to laugh louder, after which he walked over while wiping a tear.
”I haven't laughed this much in such a long time,” he said and patted Quinn's shoulder, ”thank you, mate, that made my week.”
”Give it a rest. It's not that funny.”
”So you do believe it's a little funny.”
Quinn clicked his tongue. Today wasn't his day.
”Ah, hey. Quinn, there you are.” Quinn turned back to see Tracey and Daphne walking towards them. It was Tracey who had called to him.
”Not you too,” said Quinn, ”please, no!”
”Huh, what do you mean?” Tracey asked, touching hands touching her face.
And that apparently broke the dam as Eddie started to laugh with his arms holding his sides. In annoyance, Quinn shot a silencing charm at Eddie, which, while stopping the sound of laughter, didn't stop Eddie Carmichael, who started clapping to express the hilarity he was feeling.
”What's wrong with him?” asked Daphne.
”Who knows,” said Quinn, crossing his arms, ”maybe somebody slipped him a laughter potion as a prank. You guys were looking for me?” he asked at the end.
”Yes,” said Tracey, ”well, it's not us but Marcus. He sent us to find you and ask if you'd be attending today's party,” by which she meant DA meeting, ”with your detention with Umbridge and all.”
Quinn scratched the back of his and sighed, ”I can't be sure. She kept me till midnight yesterday. Knowing her, she'd do the same again. But please don't let me be the reason for the party's cancellation. You guys enjoy it; I'll see if I can join you.” He turned to Daphne, ”In my absence, I'll ask that you be the room manager for today.”
Daphne nodded, taking the responsibility in stride.
Tracey looked at Quinn and Daphne. She wasn't sure if these two noticed, but they were staring at each other. So Tracey did what a good friend would do and grabbed the still laughing Eddie by the front of her collar. ”I almost forgot!” she said. ”I have something to do. Eddie, would you come with me? I need your help. You will, thanks!” She pulled him along, leaving her best friend and best male friend alone.
Daphne broke the silence between them. She asked, ”How are you doing? AID has been dear and close to your heart.”
”It's a strange feeling knowing that today I won't go to my office,” he said, turning progressively pensive, ”turn on the lights, cast a scouring charm before casting the spell to turn all AID cards' indicator to show that the office was open, in case someone still have some lying around. That I wouldn't sit in my workshop and do something or give Luna something to do when she comes drifting in. Or that I won't listen to people who would come in with their problem.. .”