Well, kind of a filler chapter, nothing exciting hapening here, hope you enjoy nevertheless. Thanks to all my patient reviewers - I'm truly sorry for the delays, but there's nothin I can do about that... Hope you enjoy, nevertheless.
Chapter 21 An enjoyable week
Dear Minister,
This is just a very short note to let you know I have arrived and am feeling well. I have only been here for a day so far, and have just begun to settle in. Everybody is very helpful and friendly, and my rooms are very comfortable. I will begin my interviews and inspections of lessons as soon as I have made myself familiar with the schedule of the school. I have not talked to the new professor yet, but I have the impression that she is a very interesting person. In spite of my short stay, I have already found out something very remarkable, however, I will not send this information by owl, but will floo to the ministry to talk to you personally in due course. I expect to be able to come up with more detailed information by the end of next week.
I assure you of my very best efforts in the interests of the ministry,
Dolores Umbridge
PS: Headmaster Dumbledore told me to say he hopes this finds you in good health.
The High Inquisitor re-read her letter with a concentrated frown.
"Well, this should be pretty harmless, in case they watch my mail," she muttered. With a grim smile she sealed the parchment and tied it to the leg of a brown school owl that was patiently waiting on her desk.
"Yes, there is definitely something rotten in the school of Hogwarts," she said to herself as she watched the owl fly out of the window. "But I must be patient, and I can certainly not show my suspicions… I need proof…"
Xxx
"Inter-curricular period," Calliope wondered, looking at the slip of parchment the seventh year Ravenclaws had been handed at breakfast, "wonder what it's supposed to mean. It's in the Charms classroom…"
"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Lyra said cheerfully, helping herself to some bacon and eggs. The others followed her example; even Fleur had begun to appreciate some aspects of the English breakfast after going hungry for a couple of mornings.
When the students had assembled in the Charms classroom, nobody had an idea what that unfamiliar expression meant, but when, together with Flitwick, Professor Woods entered, they understood.
"Good morning, good morning," the tiny professor said happily, as he climbed up on his book-stack and surveyed the class. "You may remember me announcing that there would be close cooperation with DA-" he checked himself as he saw Woods' stern look, "-Defence, I mean. So today will be the first of a series of joint projects that will help you to profit as much as you can, and to be as well prepared as it is possible for the dangerous times ahead of us."
"I know," Woods spoke up, glaring at a couple of students – mainly Slytherins – who had been snickering at Flitwick's words, "that some of you are not entirely convinced that what Headmaster Dumbledore told you is true, and we are not going to argue the point; however, if there is even a very slight chance that it MIGHT be true, everyone needs to get all the training they can get…"
She was interrupted when the door opened and the bulky form of Umbridge appeared in the classroom.
"I was wondering-" she said, more to herself, without bothering with a greeting. Brandishing a clipboard and quill, she plopped down ungraciously on an empty chair in the front of the classroom.
"And a very good morning to you, too, Madam Umbridge," Professor Woods said, rather pointedly, before addressing the class again.
"As I was saying, even if there is the slightest chance of – Voldemort's return," she looked at the Inquisitor as she was saying the name, and seemed satisfied with the latter's involuntary flinch, "and I may say that I believe that chance is a LOT greater, - so, if there is a chance of Voldemort's return, …"
"I must protest," Umbridge interjected, her face a deep shade of purple. "The Ministry's attitude in this matter is very clear. Whatever unfortunate accident happened during the Tournament has nothing whatsoever to do with Him-who-must-not-be-named. All rumours to the contrary are irresponsible, attention-seeking, panic-mongering –" she seemed to be searching for a climactic expression, and finished, rather lamely, "well – rumours."
"Be that as it may," Professor Woods continued with a shrug. "It is never wrong to acquire certain abilities, or to enhance inherent powers by methodical training."
"Which is exactly the aim of this joint project," Flitwick finished with a benevolent smile. "And I am sure the Ministry will be pleased to see innovative ways of teaching at work."
Umbridge muttered something incomprehensible and started scribbling furiously on her clipboard.
"As we were discussing the other day," Flitwick continued, obviously unimpressed by the Inquisitor's evident anger, "basically any spell, or charm, if used with a negative intention, can be used as a hex, jinx, or even curse. On the other hand, most hexes or jinxes can come in very useful as means of defence, hence the term counter-jinx. - Yes, Miss Reed?"
"But, sir," the Hufflepuff girl said hesitantly, "wouldn't it be enough to simply use a hex deflection or shielding charm? Isn't there the danger of counter-jinxes causing damage?"
"That's what they are there for," Professor Woods remarked, somewhat dryly, causing Fleur to smile in spite of herself. "A simple shielding charm, as I hope you all know, is very draining and cannot be kept up for a longer time; you'll have to drop it sooner or later, and then where are you? No, there is no such thing as 'passive defence', not in the long run. Of course, a shielding or deflection charm will be your first choice if taken unawares, but then you'll have to retaliate, there's no way out of that."
"But Slinkhart says in his book-" Umbridge began.
"That you can solve all your problems by negotiation and non-retaliation," Woods cut her short. "I'm quite aware of it; that's why it's called Defensive Magical THEORY. I would really like to see Slinkhart negotiating with a Dementor."
Most of the students grinned, and Umbridge's complexion turned another shade redder.
"Now, to come to the subject matter of this class," Flitwick said, bowing to Professor Woods from his bookstack. "If you please, professor…"
And before the students had quite realised what was happening, Woods had whipped out her wand, pointed it at Flitwick and said "Confundus!", her voice in no way louder than usual, but somehow clearer and filled with an energy that was almost visible.
The tiny professor staggered on the pile of books he was standing on, and for a moment it seemed he was going to fall; but presently he steadied himself, his wand appeared seemingly from nowhere, and he bellowed, "Reduplicare!"
No the energy rebounding from him WAS visible – a jet of light shot towards Woods enveloping her in a pale yellow aura and causing her to stumble, as if blinded, against the wall. But before she hit it, Flitwick's "Finite Incantatem!" restored her control of her movements and she caught herself in the last second.
The class, speechless for a moment, broke into applause, while Flitwick hurried over to his colleague.
"You are alright, are you?" he inquired anxiously.
"Of course," came the answer. "But let me commend you on your reaction, it did surprise me indeed. – Well," she turned to address the students. "What did you notice about this little performance?"
"Confundus usually does not have such violent effects," one of the Gryffindor girls said. "It must have been that counter-spell…"
"Indeed it was," Flitwick nodded. "A very useful tool, but not as easy as it may look. The usual swish and flick is certainly not enough here… Now, if you will be so kind as to pair up with partners; we are going to practise this…"
The rest of the lesson passed with the students practising the new spell, and it soon became obvious that it was certainly a tricky business. Fleur, who was paired with Lyra suffered a couple of nasty collisions with various pieces of furniture or an occasional student when she failed to repel Lyra's spells, but to her secret satisfaction Lyra did not fare any better when the defence was her turn. Towards the end of the lesson, however, both of them managed, if not to completely to throw the spell back with redoubled force, so at least to deflect it and return it to its source.
"I feel like I'm black and blue all over," Calliope groaned as they left the classroom. "But I'll say this: the woman certainly knows her stuff."
The other girls agreed, and Fleur felt a strong feeling of pride for her grandmother.
When the students had left the classroom, Umbridge, who had kept to the background during the lesson, got up from her chair and marched over to Professor Woods.
"A word with you," she said to her brusquely.
"Yes?" Woods' tone was perfectly neutral and devoid of emotion. "I trust you are satisfied with the lesson?"
"Who are you?" Umbridge growled, ignoring the question. "The records of the Ministry don't have any information about you. And what are your credentials?"
"As far as I know," Woods replied, her voice nearing freezing point, "regulations say that it is the Headmaster's sole responsibility to hire staff for his school. Applicants for positions here have to answer to him alone, and the Ministry has no call to interfere with the headmaster's choice. Correct me if I'm wrong. So, unless you have to make some comments on the lesson, you will excuse me…"
Umbridge's ugly toad-like mouth opened and closed without a sound a couple of times; Woods gave her a radiant smile and left the room.
The next couple of day passed uneventfully, at least as far as the average students were concerned. The High Inquisitor could frequently be seen talking to students, and dropping in on various classes, and the general impression was that she became moodier and her expression – as far as that was possible for someone with a face like hers – even more sour and malevolent than it had already been.
Harry's 'detention' continued, and his mental connection with Fleur improved a good deal, so that by the end of the week they were able to communicate wordlessly from one room to another. Needless to say, that those detentions were not only satisfying insofar as they developed their magical abilities.
"She is a VERY unusual professor," Hermione remarked when Harry returned from his last detention, looking extremely content and pleased with himself.
"Why?" Harry asked innocently.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Why? Can you imagine a teacher, - ANY teacher, - assigning you snogging detentions?"
Somehow it had never occurred to Harry to look at it that way.
"But – but we have been practising…" he began, turning a deep red.
"Practising WHAT?" Hermione interrupted scathingly. "So you've improved some sort of link between the two of you that's already been there, big deal… I guess you'd have got the hang of that sooner or later anyway. Why she is encouraging you like this – it's simply beyond me. I'd never have expected a teacher to disregard school rules like that. There is something strange about that woman, take my word for it! And I'll find out!"
"Well, I believe if there IS anything to find out, there's nobody better to do it than you," Harry told her, smiling. "Though I can't imagine what that might be…"
"Come on, Hermy," Ron interjected. "Give him a break. Why, one could almost think you were jealous…"
"I'm NOT jealous of ANYBODY, Ronald Weasley," there was a note of danger in her voice, "and HOW often have I told you not to call me Hermy!"
"Oops," said Ron, retreating from her hastily. "I just-"
He stopped when he saw her look and disappeared hastily up the stairs.
"Honestly," growled Hermione, "when will he ever learn?"
"It's Quidditch tryouts tomorrow," Cho told Fleur when they sat down to dinner on Friday evening. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"
"Of course not," Fleur, who had completely forgotten everything about it during the last week, said, trying to sound truthful. "When?"
"Right after lunch," Cho said. "And I am so glad you are giving it a try."
Her voice was full of eagerness, and she looked livelier to Fleur than she had ever since the start of term. Fleur, glad that her friend had finally found something to keep her from brooding, put her hand on her arm.
"I'm still not sure they will even want me on the team…"
"Rubbish! They'd be crazy! I watched you last year – you are GOOD. Have you given it any thought yet – I mean, what position you want to play?"
"I've told you already, nothing where I have to hit those bludgers, and I don't care too much about getting hit with them, either; so, perhaps I could try for Seeker, what do you think?"
"Same like Harry, eh?" Cho grinned, nudging her. "Why not? I guess I can always take up Chasing, as well…"
"Oh, I forgot, you are the Seeker-"
"No problem, I've always believed in diversification. So, how about some warming up tomorrow morning?"
After Breakfast on Saturday morning they walked over to the Quiditch pitch. It was one of the typical – if rare - Scottish autumn days, with a pale blue sky, a few hazy whitish clouds lazily swimming across it; the sun was not strong enough yet to dry the dewy meadows, and to Fleur, who was used to a softer climate, the air felt chill.
"Erm- there is something I ought to tell you-" Cho began, sounding embarrassed.
"What is it?"
"Well- don't be mad at me, please, but- it's about- about Roger…"
Fleur stopped in her tracks.
"Roger? Roger DAVIES?"
Yes- he- he asked me if I- he wants to – to talk to you…"
"And he thinks if you ask me prettily enough, I will?"
"Ye-es; now you are mad, aren't you?"
Fleur was silent for a moment, trying to analyse her feelings. And it was with some surprise that she realised she felt – nothing. All her anger, her humiliation and embarrassment had somehow just drained away.
"Believe it or not," she told her friend, who was watching her anxiously, "no, I'm not mad. Not at you, and not even at him, any more. It all seems so long ago, somehow, and so unimportant… No," she repeated, giving Cho a quick hug, "I couldn't care less."
The walked on in a companionable silence, then Fleur asked,
"What does he want?"
"He didn't say exactly… Apologize, most likely… I guess he realised you'd be playing Quidditch together, and thought it would be good for the team spirit or something, if you get along… Anyway," she added as they approached the pitch,"you'll hear for yourself, there he is…"
And indeed, a figure in the blue and bronze Ravenclaw quidditch robes that had been standing beneath the hoops was turning and walking towards them slowly.