I'm going to try and lengthen the chapters a bit

Unfortunately, Umbridge was worse than Lockhart. Way worse. Harry stared at his copy of Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles gloomily and began reading. Dear Merlin, this was going to be a dull class!

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" he heard Umbridge ask.

He looked up to see that Hermione had her hand raised. "Not about the chapter, no."

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. 'There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Hermione immediately raised her hand again.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

Harry continued to listen, silently agreeing with Hermione's arguments, though he didn't raise his hand. At least, not until he heard Umbridge say that they've been taught by "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"Remus is not dangerous!" Harry snapped.

"Hand, Mr. Potter!"

Harry could take the anger at him, but when his parents were slandered, he would not remain silent.

"If we aren't using our wands, how are we supposed to defend ourselves?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Umbridge said.

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?"

Professor Umbridge looked up.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Really?"

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Well, in second year, there was the Chamber of Secrets incident," Harry pointed out. "Third year, Sirius Black escaped, and although he was innocent, he did spread panic. And then fourth year, Professor Moody was an impostor.

"Not to mention," he added, "Voldemort."

He heard several sharp intakes of breath, but Umbridge just looked at him with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter. Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead. This is a lie."

"No, it isn't!"

"Detention, Mr Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.'"

Harry gritted his teeth furiously. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Word spread of Harry's detention. Students would whisper loudly, hoping to elicit a reaction from Harry.

Hermione and Ron sat down to begin their potions essay. Ron looked at Hermione expectantly, waiting for her to explain the properties of moonstone, but Hermione was distracted by the sight of Fred, George, and Lee. Fred was holding a large paper bag and was scowling.

"Wait here," Hermione said, standing up. She walked over. "What are you doing?"

Fred stifled a groan of annoyance and turned to face her. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated scathingly. "Then what's that?" She pointed at the bag in his hand.

"It's for Umbridge," Fred admitted through gritted teeth.

"Umbridge?" Hermione looked surprised. She had expected it to be for the first years that were crowded around George a little way off.

"She gave Harry detention for speaking up."

"And pulling a prank on her is the reasonable answer?" Hermione said.

Fred sighed, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had come. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing right now. And before you turn on me," she added as Fred was opening his mouth, "think for a moment. It's public knowledge that you and Harry are together. Umbridge will think he sent you after her and put him in deeper trouble. You don't want that, do you?"

"No." Fred was reluctant to admit that she had a point.

"Besides, it's just lines. It won't be that bad of a detention."

At that moment, the first years slumped over, unconscious.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Hermione groaned. "George, that's enough!"

Fred tuned out her scolding and looked at the sweet in his hand. He wouldn't do anything about Umbridge now, but if she did anything, she would pay dearly.

Friday rolled around, and at five to five, Harry went to Umbridge's office.

"Come in," she called in a sugary voice.

Harry thought that Lockhart had been bad enough with all those self portraits, but this was worse. Way worse. Lacy covers and cloths draped every surface, and plates with kittens on them lined the walls.

"Evening, Professor Umbridge," he said stiffly. "What am I doing tonight?"

Umbridge handed him a long quill. "I want you to write, I must not tell lies," she told him softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

"You haven't given me any ink."

"Oh, you won't need ink."

Uneasiness wormed its way into Harry's stomach at her words.

He wrote down the sentence she had given him and gasped in pain as the words appeared on his right hand. Blood quill, he realized. She was making him write with a blood quill. He remembered Remus telling him that he and Sirius used them to sign the adoption papers.

Harry looked up to see Umbridge smiling at him like a cat that had cornered a mouse. "Yes?" she said sweetly.

"Nothing."

After what seemed like hours, Umbridge checked his hand. "Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," she said, smiling. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

Harry left, cursing in his head. He had to do something about his hand.

He made it to the Ravenclaw dorms and was about to head up when he saw Luna.

"How was detention?" she asked.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Harry questioned back.

"I should, but I was worried about you," Luna replied, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. "What did she have you do?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "She just had me write lines."

Luna stared at him for a long moment. "Lines," she repeated dully.

"Yeah, nothing that bad. Good night." He quickly made his escape, feeling her eyes on his back log after he had disappeared from view.

Detention continued for the rest of the week, but Harry never mentioned what went on during it and he refused to talk about it. Even Luna didn't know about the scars on his hand, although how long he would be able to keep it from her he did not know.

Inevitably, she did find out when they were doing their homework. A sharp gasp made Harry look up. Realizing his scarred hand was exposed, he instinctively went to cover it up.

"You said you wrote lines," Luna said, eyes wide.

"I did. Just... not with my own quill."

"You need to tell someone," Luna said fiercely. "Professor Flitwick, or Snape."

"They're busy enough as it is with OWLs and NEWTs," Harry said.

"Sirius and Remus, then," Luna said almost desperately. "Harry, you can't let her do this to you."

Luna looked close to tears, and Harry winced. He didn't mean to upset her. "All right, I'll go to Professor Flitwick."

"As soon as possible."

"As soon as possible," Harry agreed.

Luna modded, relieved. "You should tell Fred," she said after a moment. "I think he knows something's off. You've been avoiding him all week."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, I know. Fine, I'll talk to him as well. After Flitwick."

"Good."

Harry turned back to his essay and sighed deeply. He hoped he wouldn't be wasting his breath.

Like I said, trying to diverge from canon