Harry
"What exactly do you learn in defense against the dark arts? Like, do they shoot spells at you for practice? Do you have to defend yourself?" Percy asked in a rapid pace as they made their way to the DADA class.
"Cause I sure as hell am going to die in the first 10 minutes if that's the case. I mean, what kind of sick way of teaching is that? Back in my school there were no things like that. We had combat magic and stuff, not some crazy toad shooting 'dark arts' at you! I mean what if-" he continued on without waiting for a reply, but Hermione cut him off and started explaining exactly how DADA was taught. Harry zoned out, but Percy seemed to calm down slightly.
Which was good.
They were just about to enter the classroom when Harry saw Noah running up the stairs, his face red and panting, with his tie crooked and his shirt untucked. which was very unlike Noah.
But it wasn't unlike Noah to disappear from time to time for short periods of time, or sometimes even hours, so Harry didn't really pay attention to him and made his way into the class.
When he entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom he found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Harry was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad. The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the whole class had sat down. A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her. Although Harry was positive he heard Percy call her something like empousa under his breath, whatever that was.
"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:
Defense Against the Dark Arts a Return to Basic Principles.
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.
"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please." She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:
Course aims: 1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic. 2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used. 3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
For a couple of minutes, the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment, with Harry often having to help Percy write some of the things down, while Percy was continuously cursing the 'pink toad that looks like Aphrodite cursed her.'
When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she said, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class. "I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room, with Percy once again muttering something about evil teachers.
"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk." Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to Percy and asked him if he needed help reading anything, but Percy just shook his head and said that he wasn't going to do the thing the pink toad asked him to do. So, Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read. It was desperately boring, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns.
He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Percy shaking his leg next to him wasn't helping at all.
Several silent minutes passed. Harry looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her questioningly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.
After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so dull that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye than to struggle on with "Basics for Beginners", including Percy.
When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer. "Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione. "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," said Hermione.
"Queen," Percy whispered dramatically; Luckily, Umbridge didn't hear.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.
"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.
"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 ejaculated 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. Harry, Hermione and Percy immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione. "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?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.
Percy almost gagged next to him, and so did Harry.
"No, but —"
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"
Harry had had enough.
"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a —"
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge. Harry thrust his fist in the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him again, but now several other people had their hands up too. "And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Percy.
"Percy Jackson."
"Well, Mr. Jackson?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Percy. "If you're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —"
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Percy, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"No, but —" Professor Umbridge talked over him.
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Hermione angrily, "he was the best we ever —"
"Hand, Miss Granger! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"
"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just —"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean Thomas hotly.
"Mind you, we still learned loads —"
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge.
"Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"
"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," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.
"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.
"Finally," Percy muttered next to him.
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 out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh yeah?" said Percy. He stood up.
Harry was surprised.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think ..." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, piping back into the conversation. "maybe Lord Voldemort?"
Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool.
Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain."
Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby fingered hands splayed on her desk. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —"
"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"
Percy was looking between Harry and Umbridge, confused.
"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-notmake-matters-worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him.
"As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!" "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.'" Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again.
Harry, however, remained stood up, and so did Percy. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half scared, half-fascinated. "Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach. "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night that Cedric had died. Percy looked especially confused.
They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly.
"It was murder," said Harry. He could feel himself shaking. He had
hardly talked to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates.
"Voldemort killed him, and you know it."
Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment he thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice,
"Come here, Mr. Potter, dear." He kicked his chair aside, strode around Percy and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next. Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him. He took it from her without saying a word and was about to leave the room, when out of nowhere, Percy started walking towards Umbridge.
He stood right in front of her, which was a funny sight, seeing as she was about two heads shorter than him.
He looked her dead in the eye, and without any trace of humor, said "You are a liar, and your clothing choices would make my aunt faint. If you seriously believe that there is nothing out there that would hurt children like ourselves, you are gravely mistaken, lady. You should poke your sheltered head out of the safety hole you've crawled into and look around yourself.
"I'm not talking about this Voldemort dude everyone's so hung up on-" at this, yet again, some students gasped "but I am talking about other real dangers."
Throughout his monologue, Percy's voice was calm and cold, opposite of his usual carefree and happy one. It sent chills down Harry's spine.
The class was silent for a few seconds, everyone too taken aback to react; you could see shock and fury on Umbridge's face.
Meanwhile, Harry was confused as hell.
Finally, Umbridge said, in a very sharp tone, "Detention for you too, mister Jackson; for spreading fear and lies in an academic environment" Percy nodded, and turned back to his seat, while he was on the way, he caught Harrys eye and winked at him.
Harry was even more confused.
He left the room. He walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in his hand.
Hi!
So, im not dead. Sorry for like completely leaving this story behind ive just been so busy with sorting out life (not procrastinating at all)
So yeah, im back to updating again. I don't know how often ill be able to upload, but I know that the chapters are going to get longer from now on, so yeah.
Anyway, please tell me what you think or if I made any mistakes or if you have suggestions for the story!
Thanks (: