Written for the Lieutenant position on Team "After All This Time?" "Always." at the Battlefield Wars.
Headlining Character: Minerva McGonagall / Assisting Character: Dolores Umbridge / Plot: One character attacks (physically or mentally) the other.
Words: 648
A Cornered Snake Strikes Out
"How long have you worked at Hogwarts?"
Umbridge sat behind Minerva McGonagall's desk, in the Professor's seat, as she fixed her with a sickly sweet smile.
"Thirty eight years," Minerva replied, her face rigid as her voice strained around her words.
Minerva had known it was coming; she'd watched as the High Inquisitor interviewed the other teachers. She'd heard the stories. But to watch this woman, Dolores Umbridge, in her furry pink coat sit at her desk and fix her with a calculating, pitying stare was more than Minerva bargained for.
"A long time, indeed," the Ministry witch piped up, high and false. "Is it usual for Professors to stay at Hogwarts for that long?"
"Longer," Minerva commented. Dolores nodded curtly.
"Are you married, Minerva? Children?" Dolores questioned. Minerva wondered where this was going, what kind of a response she was trying to elicit.
"I was married," she replied.
"Ah, yes. He died, did he not? Your old boss, if I remember correctly. Were you in his employment when your relationship began?"
"No, I was not," Minerva answered.
"And do you have any children of your own?" Dolores asked, fixing Minerva with a cold stare.
"No."
Dolores made a sound of affirmation. "That will be all. It's as I thought. A woman with a history of dubious relationships caring for the nations' children, despite a distinct lack of maternal affection. Appointed by Dumbledore, yes? So, I would be right in assuming your suitability for the position has never been... tested."
Dolores closed up her notebook and gathered her things, beginning to stand. A vein ticked in Minerva's jaw as she analysed the Ministry official.
"Dolores, if I may call you that, what about yourself?" Minerva began.
"Whatever do you mean?" Dolores laughed, affronted.
"Well, what makes you suitable to the position?" Minerva asked with a casual air.
"I have proved myself loyal to the Ministry and, by extension, the Minister himself, through many years of personal toil," Dolores replied, puffing out her chest.
"Oh, I don't doubt that. I merely meant to question your suitability to the school. Do you have experience with children? Have you ever taught yourself? Have you spoken to parents, relatives, the children themselves, to understand what it is they want and need?"
"I'm not sure I appreciate what you're insinuating," Dolores commented, looking at Minerva with dangerous eyes.
"Well, I'm certain I don't like what you're insinuating about me. However, it doesn't take much imagination to wonder about your past, now, does it, Dolores?"
"Minerva McGonagall, to question me is to question the Minister!" Dolores announced with a gasp.
Minerva smiled.
"Whereas to question me is to question Hogwarts, and it's Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The man your precious Minister is afraid of. The one man Lord Voldemort himself is afraid of. Is that a price you're willing to pay if the minister falls?" Minerva asked.
Umbridge stared, speechless for a moment. It was long enough for Minerva to take her cue to continue, savouring the moment.
"I don't think it is, do you?" Minerva posed. "I remember you as a student, you see. I remember you nervous and stumbling, desperate to please. You never were friends with anyone for long, were you? No, you trotted on the heels of anyone who would accept your worship, hoping their glory would rub off on you. I used to feel quite sorry for you, always looking for a larger fish to hide behind, safe from harsher waters in their wake. You haven't changed much, have you?"
When Dolores drew her wand, Minerva saw it coming. She'd seen enough cowards to know that cornered snakes act out. Dolores' spell wasn't even fully formed before Minerva blocked it quite easily.
"Fight fire with fire and you get burned, Dolores," Minerva commented, before turning her back, knowing Dolores Umbridge would do nothing but leave, and plan her next attack.