Professor McGonagall desperately needed a cup of tea. It had been a trying morning. Breakfast was disrupted by the Daily Prophet's announcement of Umbridge's appointment as High Inquisitor. The staff table was glum for the duration of the meal as Umbridge simpered. Potter was being so ridiculously obvious with his significant glances toward McGonagall from the Gryffindor table that she thought his eyes might roll out of his head. Later, during a disappointing second year lesson, three boys mysteriously erupted with nosebleeds. On top of everything, Peeves had stolen all her quills from her office and carved something rude into the top of her desk. The din of the student-filled halls was overwhelming and she quickly shut the staff room door behind her to block it out. Professor Sprout, looking somewhat more frazzled than usual, was washing her hands at the sink. She glanced up at McGonagall's face and asked, "Tea?"

"Bless you, Pomona," said McGonagall. She hung her hat on the coat rack and sat down in one of the armchairs with a sigh.

Sprout boiled the water in the kettle with a wave of her wand. A tray had already been set with a teapot, two cups in saucers, and a small jug of milk. "I heard Filius was inspected this morning," she said as she carried the tray over and sat down.

McGonagall murmured thanks and poured the tea, shaking her head. "I never thought I'd see the day when we were taken over by the Ministry. And by that hateful little toad!" She sipped her tea and felt herself calm down ever so slightly.

Sprout gave her a nervous smile. "I do admit I'm worried."

"She's just trying to get to Dumbledore. She'll take down a few of us if she can, but you needn't be concerned," said McGonagall.

"I'm not the one with suspicious extracurricular activities," Sprout said carefully.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. Sprout likely didn't know she was in the Order, but had probably picked up on both her and Dumbledore's increasingly busy schedules since the summer. "The day I worry about Dolores Umbridge is the day you can commit me to St. Mungo's," she said defiantly. "Unfortunately, I think she'll go after Hagrid first. That inspection certainly won't go well."

They both considered her words for a moment before Sprout suddenly grabbed her arm. She looked at her, confused.

"Severus' inspection," Sprout said, her eyes bright with amusement.

McGonagall envisaged Umbridge materialising like a ghoul from a dark corner of the dungeons, the echo of her insipid cough startling Snape into dropping a cauldron on his foot. He immediately drew his wand and the bow on top of her head burst into flame. McGonagall snorted, pressed her fingers to her smiling lips, and closed her eyes to steady herself. Sprout gasped with silent laughter next to her.

Suddenly, the door opened and Flitwick entered. He saw the witches in a state and gave them a curious glance. Sprout wiped the tears from her eyes as McGonagall finished her tea and said with a knowing look, "How was your morning, Filius?"

Flitwick's expression was pained. "I don't wish to complain, but—"

He was interrupted as Umbridge bustled into the room. She gave everyone a smug smile and chirped, "Good morning, all!"

Flitwick smiled civilly at her before busying himself with the kettle. Sprout and McGonagall stood up. "I'll take care of those, Pomona," McGonagall said, flicking her wand and sending the tea things to the sink. Umbridge was still looking expectantly at them.

"Thank you, Minerva," said Sprout. She nodded to Umbridge. "Morning. If you'll excuse me, the greenhouse needs tidying."

Umbridge turned to McGonagall, who ignored her and followed Sprout to the door. "Well, I guess it's just us then, Professor Flitwick. Join me for tea?" Umbridge's voice was falsely bright as her blank eyes watched McGonagall putting on her hat.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, but I also have a bit of preparation for my next lesson. Good day!" Flitwick bowed and scurried away with his cup of tea.

McGonagall held the door open for Sprout and Flitwick. "Inquisitor," she said with a stiff nod. The door fell shut on Umbridge's expressionless face.