Chapter 12: A Matter of Zoology

After the initial excitement of the first week, life at Hogwarts settled down into the usual routine of lessons, homework and extra-curricular mischief. The new staff members were no longer a novelty and, although their lessons remained highly unusual, they were at least consistent in that. Thaumaturgical Studies was nicknamed 'Extra Break', while many less wholesome nicknames were invented for 'Practical Witchcraft' and Mistress Weatherwax, none of which were ever uttered within two corridors of her.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was also consistent in its banality. Harry had arrived at the second lesson ready for a fight, his pride still sore from the detention he had spent cleaning Umbridge's collection of ghastly, kitten-themed china. To his dismay, the lesson consisted entirely of copying out a chapter from Defensive Magical Theory entitled 'Correct Wand Usage: Posture, Position and Protocol', which included such helpful hints as:

'Grip your wand firmly with the thumb and first two fingers of your wand hand, between two and four inches from the base, dependent upon the length of your wand'.

Hermione's protests about the set work had fallen on deaf ears, serving only to lose Gryffindor five points. The class had set to work with an attitude of sullen resentment, while Umbridge watched them from behind her desk like a smug toad.

Perhaps he should be grateful that Umbridge was not setting them anything challenging Harry reflected as he staggered down the aisle of shelves with a tottering pile of books in his arms. Fifth year at Hogwarts was O.W.L.s year and the teachers were piling on the work so heavily that Harry and his friends had all but set up camp in the library. Right now he, Ron and Hermione were crammed around one table to research three essays, all due within the week: one for Charms, one for Transfiguration and a predictably nasty one for Potions.

"Can someone please explain to me why 'Who cares?' is not an acceptable answer to an essay question?" Ron grumbled as he pushed aside yet another unhelpful textbook.

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to lecture Ron in a furious whisper about the importance of coursework in a well-rounded education. Harry grinned, shook his head and unrolled his parchment, ready to make notes on the practical application of Transfiguration in an office environment. The Death of Rats was sitting on the table beside him, nibbling contentedly on a piece of cheese. It seemed to be on what Harry had come to regard as its 'day off', when it was able to pay Harry a visit.

"Here you go," Harry said, handing the Death of Rats his blunt quill, "Could you sharpen this for me, please?"

The Death of Rats scowled, which is a real achievement for a creature with no eyebrows.

"Look, while you're here you might as well make yourself useful!" Harry said.

SQUEAK said the Death of Rats, snatching the quill and flourishing its scythe.

"Shh!" Ron said, waving his hands furiously at Hermione and Harry. He gestured towards the door. Umbridge had just entered. She was looking more flustered these days; her cardigan was lopsided, and stray hairs waved free from her meticulously arranged bun. She crossed over to the issue desk and drummed her fingers on the top.

"Madam Pince! Madam Pince?" she called irritably.

A long red arm rose up from behind the desk. A brown, leathery hand waved at her.

"What in the – ?!"

Umbridge leant over the desk.

"Ook!"

Umbridge screamed and leapt back as if she had been stung. A large, male orang-utan climbed on to the desk. His smile was wide and friendly.

Harry and his friends avoided one another's gaze, trying desperately to suppress their giggles. Umbridge had clearly not encountered the new Librarian before, who was now sharing the job with Madam Pince.

"Madam Pince! Madam Pince!" Umbridge shouted indignantly.

"You!" she said, rounding on the nearest student, "Tell me, where is Madam Pince? And why is there a monkey in the lib - ?"

THWACK!

Harry whipped round. Umbridge was lying on the floor, hair askew, with the Librarian crouched over her, his fangs bared. There was a flash of light as Umbridge cast a spell at him. The Librarian skittered back, shrieking. Umbridge scrambled to her feet and sprinted for the door. The Librarian followed, still shrieking furiously, a stream of delighted students in his wake, Harry, Ron and Hermione among them.

Umbridge raced through the corridors, with the Librarian pursuing her on all fours. More students burst from classroom doorways as they passed to join the chase. Umbridge eventually took refuge in the Great Hall, clinging to the statue of Godric Gryffindor. The Librarian sat at the foot of the statue, screaming at her and dodging her poorly aimed spells. The students formed a great ring around the statue and egged him on, until Professor McGonagall arrived.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. Students scattered like pigeons before a cat. In moments the only people left in the Hall were McGonagall, Umbridge, still clutching the statue, and the Librarian, squatting beneath.

"Ook?" he said innocently.

"Professor McGonagall, your wand! Draw your wand! It is a wild beast!" Umbridge squeaked.

The Librarian shuffled forward and offered McGonagall a banana that he appeared to have conjured out of thin air.

"Err, no thank you," said McGonagall politely, "Mr… err, Librarian, would you be so kind as to return to your workplace?"

"Ook" said the Librarian with a shrug, knuckling his way back down the corridor.

"This is an outrage!" Umbridge squawked as McGonagall helped her down, "An absolute outrage! I shall be informing the Minister immediately!"

She shrugged off McGonagall's hand without a word of thanks and bustled away.

McGonagall sighed. This was going to cause trouble.

The dream was longer this time. Harry was in an unfamiliar room, so high and wide that you could have fitted a cathedral inside it. In the distance he could see a group of golden figures standing in a pool of water. He padded across the tiled floor towards a pair of wrought gold gates.

A wizard in dark blue Auror's robes was sitting behind a desk on the left. The sign above him read 'Security'. He did not seem to see Harry. Harry drew his wand and, having placed the Auror under the Imperius Curse, sent him strolling away. Harry then turned his attention to the gate. The golden chain securing them uncoiled at a touch from his wand. Harry pushed one of the gates aside and slipped through. He was now in a smaller, unlit hallway lined with lifts, each behind its own golden grille. Harry unlocked the nearest one and stepped inside. Another touch of his wand and the lift was speeding downwards.

It came to a halt on the ninth floor. Harry now found himself in a familiar corridor. The black stones still glowed with an unhealthy green light. Harry smiled hungrily as he moved forward, heading for the plain black door at the far end. There was something behind it that he wanted very badly. Soon it would be his; very soon.

Harry woke suddenly. His bed sheets were clammy with sweat. He lay awake, replaying the dream over again in his mind's eye. Unlike most dreams, this one did not fade from his woken mind. The details; the golden sheen on the grilles; the sound of the Auror's footsteps; the cool air in the corridor, they remained sharp, as if they were a recent memory. Harry did not get much sleep that night.

The next morning, he told Ron and Hermione about his dream on the way down to breakfast.

"You used the Imperius Curse?" Hermione said, frowning.

"I didn't mean to! I was… sort of watching myself do it, like I wasn't in control," said Harry hotly.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Hermione said quickly, "but I don't think it's common for people to dream about using the Unforgivables."

"So what are you saying? That Harry secretly wants to be a Dark wizard?" said Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't know. Nobody really understands dreams, especially wizards' dreams. Sometimes they mean something and sometimes they don't. Sometimes people think there's some deep meaning to their dreams when all they've got is indigestion, like that old fraud Trelawney"

"Any idea why you were dreaming about the Ministry?" Ron asked Harry.

"The what?"

"The Ministry of Magic. It sounds like that's where you were, from what you said," said Ron, "My dad's taken me there a couple of times."

"But I've never been there! How could I dream about a placeI've never been?" said Harry.

"Dunno. Magic?" said Ron with a shrug.

"Oh really! What does that mean in this school?" said Hermione.

They had just turned onto the grand staircase, heading down into the entrance hall. There was a great crowd of students at the foot, all talking at once. They were standing around a notice pinned to the wall beside the hourglasses that recorded the House points.

"Outta the way! Outta the way, I say!" boomed a voice. Harry saw Archchancellor Ridcully pushing his way through the crowd and towards the front doors. He was wearing an old-fashioned striped bathing costume and his pointed hat. His Bursar followed, staggering under a pile of rods, nets, bait cans and what looked very much like a harpoon.

"Come on, out of the way! I'll get him this time, the brute. I'll go into the lake meself if I have to. Hurry up there, Bursar!" Ridcully roared, wading doggedly through the mass of excited students.

"What's going on?" Harry asked a passing Hufflepuff as he, Ron and Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs.

"It's that… that vile woman!" the Hufflepuff snapped as she strode past.

Ron, who was the tallest of the three, stood on his tiptoes so that he could see over the heads of the crowd. The notice read:

EDUCATIONAL DECREE No. Twenty Three

After due consideration, it has been decided that Dolores Umbridge be appointed as the first 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor', to monitor academic standards and ensure quality of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..

Signed,

Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic

"To monitor academic standards and ensure quality of education?" Ron repeated, "What on earth does that mean?!"

"It means Fudge has given Umbridge power to interfere at Hogwarts," said Hermione darkly.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked Harry, who was chuckling.

"I was just imagining the look on Mistress Weatherwax's face when Umbridge tries to 'monitor' her!" he explained, grinning.

Smiles slowly blossomed on Ron and Hermione's faces as the image formed in their minds.

"Oh, I do hope we're there when it happens," said Hermione. Ron nodded.

"This is going to be fun!"