People in Hogwarts, holding scripts and systems

Afro quickly stopped the aggressive Angelina.

"Angelina, calm down," she said calmly, "I know you want to find someone who can get along with every team member."

Afro pulled her wrist and patted her back to help her calm down. "But tacit understanding can also be developed through training."

“I believe that as long as I work hard and practice in the future, I can do the same.”

Afro's words temporarily calmed Angelina's mood. She glared at Harry angrily and said, "It seems that I need to modify the training plan to ensure that the old and new players can integrate quickly!"

After saying that, he left angrily.

Harry said to Avro dejectedly, "We'd better check with Puddlemere United to see if Wood died unfortunately. His soul seems to be possessed by Angelina."

Hermione and Ron both couldn't help laughing, but Afro didn't find it funny at all.

She was a little worried about Harry's nightly detention.

That pink toad is simply a psychopath!

"2333, do you have any useful props? Give me one."

23 just came back from visiting next door, and it is so tired that it doesn't even want to run a single line of code.

"Xiao Afu, don't you have a modification card? Use it."

Reminded by it, Afro finally remembered the props that were covered in dust in the system space.

At five minutes to five, Harry said goodbye to them and headed for his office on the fourth floor.

"Come in." Umbridge's sweet voice sounded behind the door.

Harry opened the door and froze in place.

The decor in the office had completely changed; everything had lace covers, and one wall was covered with porcelain plates, each with a giant cat on it.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Umbridge was wearing a bright pink printed robe and standing at a small table with lace hanging on it.

On the table was a blank piece of parchment, obviously intended for Harry.

"Mr. Potter, please remember that this is your punishment for spreading sensational rumors. You must come tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and Friday." Umbridge said delicately.

Harry felt the blood rush to his head. From what she meant, he was spreading lies. He and Dumbledore were just clowns seeking to attract attention?

Umbridge tilted her head and stared at him, a smirk on her face: "Now you are going to write a few sentences for me, using my pen.

She handed Harry a long, thin quill with a sharp tip.

"I want you to write: I must not lie."

"How many times?" Harry asked, trying to be polite.

"Write until you can remember this sentence," Umbridge said softly. "Begin."

“You didn’t give me ink.”

Umbridge looked at him with a small smile, "You don't need to."

Although Harry was confused, he wrote on the paper, "I must not lie."

Voldemort, who was resting far away at Nott's Manor, and Flint, who was chatting in the lounge, suddenly gasped in pain.

A line of words appeared on their right hands, as if they were deeply embedded in their flesh.

It's like it was carved with a knife.

Harry stared blankly at the sudden appearance of bright red ink on the parchment. He looked at the tip of the pen, then at the words.

He hesitated and wrote it again, and a new line of bright red font appeared on the parchment.

Flint was screaming in pain in the lounge, the burning pain making him unable to straighten his back.

"My hand! My hand hurts!"

Goyle and Crabbe were suddenly panicked. They wanted to lift Flint and send him to the school infirmary, but Flint rolled on the ground in pain.

Many students were injured by him unintentionally.

Voldemort, who was also in pain and sweating on his forehead, was furious and wanted to find out who was playing a prank on him!

Harry thought this was a really good punishment, just sitting here and writing a sentence over and over.

As he wrote furiously on the parchment, he wondered what Umbridge meant by keeping it in mind.

Anyway, he didn't lie.

Harry mentally calculated that he would write five or six more times before stopping.

But Umbridge was not calm. She stood up suddenly and walked to Harry, "Hand!"

Harry stretched out his hand, and Umbridge touched Harry's hand with the finger wearing an old-fashioned ring. "How could this be! How could it be..."

"What spell did you use?" Umbridge pointed at his nose and roared, "Dumbledore is helping you! He told you the spell!"

Harry looked at her in confusion, "What?"

Umbridge didn't listen to him and kept muttering, "It must be Dumbledore, it must be Dumbledore."

Harry listened to her cursing Dumbledore and his anger grew!