Tessa smirked internally as she walked into Umbridge's office. The toad was sitting behind her desk, looking smug, and reading a copy of Educational Degree Number Twenty-Four, the newest thing passed to give Umbridge power and make the students miserable.
The office was overly pink. Sinister cats and doilies decorated the room. "Hem, hem," Tessa imitated. Umbridge looked up.
"Yes, Miss Mills?" the "High Inquisitor" asked in a falsely sweet voice.
"Good evening, Professor," Tessa asked. Her voice was filled with the same condescending pseudo-kindness. "I've come to see about reforming some groups."
"And what groups might those be?" the evil woman asked the Ravenclaw.
"Well…" Tessa said, drawing out the word, "there are three other fourth year Ravenclaw girls. Can we have your permission to meet every night to go to sleep?"
"Why, of course!" the "professor" said, surprised. "You didn't even need to ask."
"But," Tessa said, putting on a look of false concern, "we're three or more people who meet regularly. And while I'm here, do I also have permission to reform Ravenclaw house, the Hogwarts student body, and my group of friends?"
Umbridge dropped all pretenses of sweetness. "Miss Mills, you will treat me with respect," she berated.
Tessa didn't listen but instead walked toward the door. At the last moment, she turned around and said, "By the way, Professor, there's a meeting for the soldiers of Dumbledore's army tonight. Don't worry; the meetings aren't regular. It's still a perfectly legal organization." With those words, she walked out the door.
The sound of a slamming door made Tessa look up from the DADA essay she was trying to write. She was in her dormitory, and her roommate and friend Sarah had just walked in. Sarah walked over to Tessa and looked down at the partially-finished essay. Her eyebrows nodded in confusion. "I was going to ask you for help on the essay," Sarah told the other girl, "but if you're going to write 'pink meeting Umbridge SLAM', I'll go ask someone else." Looking at her essay, Tessa saw that that was exactly what she had written. She scratched it out, put down her quill, and went back to her daydream of what she'd do if she were a Gryffindor.