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Chapter 21: Fifth Year (Part 13)
21, August, 1998...
After they'd had lunch, courtesy of the House elves, Harry was sitting thinking about what to show next.
Should I show the thing with Seamus? he asked Ron and Hermione silently.
No, just explain it, Hermione told him.
He nodded at her, "I'm going to explain a little." he told the others, "When I got back to Gryffindor tower I discovered I didn't know the password then Neville arrived and told me."
"It was one I'd be able to remember that time." Neville grinned, "Mimbulus mimbletonia."
"That's lucky." Alice noted, he nodded in agreement.
"Anyway, we went in and straight up to the dormitory, where Dean and Seamus were." Harry continued, "I asked how they're summers had been, Dean told me his wasn't bad and Seamus had just been telling him about his..."
"When Harry asked Seamus he didn't reply for a minute or two then told us his Mum didn't want him to go back to Hogwarts." Neville sighed.
"Why?" Remus asked.
"Because of me and Albus." Harry grumbled, "His Mum believed the Prophet and he did too. We argued and... I may have lost my temper and dragged his mother into it..."
"Harry it's not your fault. Seamus was out of line for that, he asked Harry what actually happened." Neville told the rest of the room, "Harry told him to read the Prophet like his mother, Seamus told Harry not to have a go at his mother and Harry told him he'd have a go at anyone who called him a liar."
"That's when I walked in." Ron took over, "I heard them arguing so naturally I asked what was going on. Seamus claimed Harry was having a go at his mother so I told him Harry wouldn't do that." he glared at Harry, who flushed.
"I told Ron what Seamus had said about his mother believing the Prophet after that." Harry mumbled.
"Thats when I got it. I told Seamus he was out of order after he confirmed it and he decided to have a go at me, he called me mad so I decided to remind him I was a prefect. He backed off pretty quickly after I told him I'd give him detention." Ron mused. "I asked if anyone elses parents had a problem with Harry and Dean said, 'My parents are Muggles, mate. They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them.'" he quoted.
"And obviously Gran and I didn't beleive anything the Prophet said." Neville grinned, "Gran cancelled our subscription and everything. Said if anyone was losing their marbles it was the Ministry."
"Sounds like something Mum would say." Frank chuckled with a nod.
"Um... Is there anything interesting until the first DADA lesson?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Fred and George put up an advertisement and Hermione suggested we tell them to cut it out because we're prefects." Ron grumbled.
"Fat chance." Fred snorted.
"You could tell us to quit it but we wouldn't." George agreed.
"What was the advertisement for?" James asked.
"Test subjects. We needed some students to try our products to make sure they reacted properly to different age groups and both genders." Fred explained.
"We were sure they would but we had to try it." George added, "And before you say anything Minerva it was perfectly safe, it was only stuff from the Skiving snackboxes, we'd been testing them on ourselves for months."
Minerva scowled at them, "Be that as it may it's still against the rules and a shame on the students who fell for it."
"They were willing and we told them exactly what would happen." George stated.
"And we paid them for their trouble." Fred said, "We knew exactly what we were doing."
Minerva huffed but kept quiet.
"Um... We got our timetables the next morning and we found out we had the worst Monday's ever." Ron sighed, "History followed by double potions, divination and double defence."
They all groaned in sympathy.
"There's not much else that's interesting except Snape picking on me again so we'll start from the beginning of lunch." Harry decided. "We'd been making Draught of Peace and I'd forgotten the hellebore so Professor Snape vanished my potion and I got no mark for the day."
"Which really wasn't fair of him." Draco commented, "I'd forgotten the Moonstone when I got distracted for a few moments and mine almost blew up." he shrugged at the looks he was getting, "That's one of the only potions I had trouble with that year, I'd never brewed it before."
"Because I didn't fancy having you blow up the mannor." Cissy said amusedly, "Which had almost happened that summer, twice."
Draco shrugged again, "I was experimenting." he stated, "With healing potions, that was the summer I managed to improve Pain relievers." he grinned.
"And almost blew up the mannor." Cissy rolled her eyes, "All I can say is its a good thing you don't do that as often anymore." he chuckled at that.
"Funnily enough I agree that its a good thing."
They all turned to the pensieve as the memory started.
"That was really unfair," said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."
"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"
Neither of the others answered; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.
"I did think he might be a bit better this year," said Hermione in a disappointed voice. "I mean... you know..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table "... now he's in the Order and everything."
"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely. "Anyway I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"
"I had evidence." Albus said, "I just didn't share it on Severus' request."
"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," snapped Hermione.
"Oh, shut up, the pair of you," said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. "Can't you give it a rest?" said Harry. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his schoolbag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there.
Everyone was looking at Harry in shock. He was staring at the ceiling, completely ignoring them.
He walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past the many students hurrying towards lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside him, and the vision of Ron and Hermione's shocked faces afforded him a sense of deep satisfaction. Serve them right, he thought, why can't they give it a rest... bickering all the time... it's enough to drive anyone up the wall...
"I see your point." Ginny told Harry with a smirk. "It was very annoying."
"Hey!" the two protested.
"Oh shut it. We'd considered locking you in a broom cupboard together until you finally admitted you loved each other." Ginny informed them, the two glared over at the snickering couple.
Harry smirked, "We did actually consider that, then decided there was a higher chance you'd trick us into thinking you'd admitted it so we'd let you out then we'd get hexed as soon as you got you're wands back."
"And we'd spend the rest of the term having to avoid you." Ginny grimaced, "Trust us, you got lucky we came to that conclusion."
He passed the large picture of Sir Cadogan the knight on a landing; Sir Cadogan drew his sword and brandished it fiercely at Harry, who ignored him.
"Come back, you scurvy dog! Stand fast and fight!" yelled Sir Cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, but Harry merely walked on and when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighbouring picture, he was rebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-looking wolfhound.
Harry spent the rest of the lunch hour sitting alone underneath the trapdoor at the top of North Tower. Consequently, he was the first to ascend the silver ladder that led to Sybill Trelawney's classroom when the bell rang.
After Potions, Divination was Harry's least favourite class, which was due mainly to Professor Trelawney's habit of predicting his premature death every few lessons.
A thin woman, heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads, she always reminded Harry of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered leather‐bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when Harry entered the room, but the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low‐burning, sickly‐scented fire was so dim she appeared not to notice him as he took a seat in the shadows. The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes. Ron emerged from the trapdoor, looked around carefully, spotted Harry and made directly for him, or as directly as he could while having to wend his way between tables, chairs and overstuffed pouffes.
"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," he said, sitting down beside Harry.
"Good," grunted Harry.
"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," said Ron.
"I'm not -"
"Yes, you are, Harry James Potter." Lily said sternly.
"Sorry but they were doing my head in." he winced, "Remember I'd put up with it for 4 years already. Though I regret snapping now." he admitted.
"It's fine, honestly. We knew you were frustrated and angry, we just didn't like it when you took it out on us." Hermione smiled.
"More than once we've snapped back at you too Harry, don't worry about it mate." Ron assured him, grinning slightly.
"I'm just passing on the message," said Ron, talking over him. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."
"I never said it -"
"Good-day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice, and Harry broke off, again feeling both annoyed and slightly ashamed of himself. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely - as, of course, I knew you would. You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so..."
Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.
"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each others most recent dreams. Carry on."
The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to Harry and Ron, Dean had paired up with Neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat; Harry and Ron merely looked at each other glumly.
"I never remember my dreams," said Ron, "you say one."
"You must remember one of them," said Harry impatiently.
He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Professor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him.
Ron winced, "Didn't think of that." he admitted.
"Ron it doesn't matter." Harry told him, "How were you to know they were still occurring frequently? I certainly never told you."
"Why didnt you tell us though?" Hermione huffed.
"I didnt want to worry you." he shrugged, smiling slightly, "My usual reason for not telling you. It's not like anything could be done about them anyway."
"Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night," said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. "What d'you reckon that means?"
"Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something,"
They all laughed at that.
said Harry, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest. It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Harry was not cheered up when Professor Trelawney set them the task of keping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, he and Ron led the way back down the ladder, Ron grumbling loudly.
"D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any..."
When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they 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 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!"
The Marauders snickered and Lily said in disgust, "They're not five-year olds. So stop talking to them like there were, Umbridge."
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.
"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.
"The fake Moody's lesson on the Unforgivable Curses was interesting." Remus pointed out, "And that wasn't a practical lesson."
"True, the rest were incredibly boring though. Even your theory lessons were more interesting than the rest." Neville smiled.
The other teens who'd been taught by Remus before nodded.
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: Defence 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 OWL year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, 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 the 'Course Aims'.
. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
"Sounds boring," muttered Alice. "Will there be any practical lessons at all?"
"Not until Harry took over." Hermione grinned at ther best friend, who grinned back.
"So glad you talked me into that." he told her.
"We're glad you did too." Fred added.
"Yeah, you were an awesome teacher Harry." George grinned, "We actually learned more defensive magic with you than we did in our whole 7 years, except the year Remus taught that is."
"I've just realised something Gred."
"Yes Forge?"
"Harry got us to learn and pay attention without any effort." he stated, looking surprised.
"Oh yeah." he mused.
"Amazing." Arthur stated, looking at Harry, "You got them to pay attention whilst learning. Even Molly and I had difficulty getting them to do that often."
Harry grinned, "Could be something to do with the fact I stuck with practical stuff and openly stated you cant learn defence from books."
"That would get any student to listen." Fred nodded, grinning.
For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, '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.
"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 closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.
It was desperately dull, 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. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absent‐mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. 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.
"Excuse me?" Frank asked, looking surprised. "When was the last time Hermione ever neglected to read when told or disobeyed a teachers instructions?"
"Binns class in second year." Ron smiled, "When she asked about the Chamber."
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 enquiringly, 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 tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with 'Basics for Beginners'.
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.
"Yeah right," muttered Regulus.
"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.
"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 exclaimed 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 and Hermione 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 Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"
"Of course it is." Minerva nodded, "Its actually not in the job description because it's rather obvious."
"Ah, but most DADA teachers know that. She wasnt really teacher material." Remus pointed out, "Personally I think students, especially teenage students, learn better and faster if the lessons are interesting and they get to use their wands." he shrugged, "Most others would find the same thing."
Minerva nodded, "I noticed that within my first few years of teaching."
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.
"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 programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way -"
"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. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him,
"You can't ignore Harry!" James growled angrily.
"She was just trying to annoy me." Harry shook his head, "It was working."
but now several other people had their hands up, too.
"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr. Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"No, but what about real life?" Remus demanded, "What about out in the real world, where there's Voldemort and other dark wizards and creatures?"
"Technically she did attack us in class. Reading that book was torture." Harry grumbled.
"No, but -"
Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticise 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."
"Okay, Lockhart and Quirrell were irresponsible, but you can't talk that way about Moony!" exclaimed James angrily. "He was the best Defense teacher ever!"
"Amen to that!" the others chanted.
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean angrily, "he was the best we ever -"
"Go Dean!" cheered the twins.
"Hand, Mr. Thomas! 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 was a maniac." Sirius rolled his eyes, "Though he did teach them many things."
"In a twisted way I'm grateful, if it wasn't for him I probably wouldn't have been able to break Voldemorts Imperius." Harry mused.
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean 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 what happens when you get to the practical part in the Defense OWL?" inquired Lily.
"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 Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses 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 practicing them beforehand?" Dora inquired incredulously.
"Apparently." Hermione snorted, "Like that would've worked."
"Without ever practising them beforehand?" 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.
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 for us out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh, yeah?" said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think..." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. "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."
"For telling the truth?" Lily demanded.
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 towards 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!"
"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-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.
"I really want to hex her." Sirius growled.
"When she's caught you can help with questioning, nothing illegal." Kingsley warned him, "But you can help, considering what she did to you she'll be terrified."
"Good." he grinned manically.
"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."
"Really? I thought she was the enemy?" Harry asked sarcastically.
"And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'."
Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.
"Harry don't!" the women groaned.
"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 Cedric had died. 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 not!" shouted James. "It was murder!"
"It was murder," said Harry. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly spoken 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, Harry 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 Ron 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, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him. He walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in his hand, and turning a corner walked slap into Peeves the poltergeist, a wide-mouthed little man floating on his back in midair, juggling several inkwells.
"Why it's Potty Wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; Harry jumped backwards out of the way with a snarl.
"Now is not the time, Peeves," James muttered tiredly, "This is one time when you're annoying, not funny."
"He's always annoying if he targets you. It's only funny when he did it to someone else." Sirius pointed out.
"Get out of it, Peeves."
"Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky," said Peeves, pursuing Harry along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above him. "What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in -" Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry "- tongues?"
"I said, leave me ALONE!" Harry shouted, running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside him.
"Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad, But some are more kindly and think he's just sad, But Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad -"
"SHUT UP!"
A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.
"What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?" she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. "Why aren't you in class?"
"I've been sent to see you," said Harry stiffly.
"Sent? What do you mean, sent?"
"Been a while since that happened?" Harry inquired.
"It hadn't happened since they were at school and never during class times." she gestured James and Sirius, who grinned.
He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.
"You aren't going to shout at him are you?" Lily asked worriedly.
"No." Minerva replied, "Just a little warning about Umbridge." she shrugged.
"Come in here, Potter."
He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him.
"Well?" said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. "Is this true?"
"Is what true?" Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. "Professor?" he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.
"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"You called her a liar?"
"Yes."
"You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"
"Yes."
Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter."
"What?" they said at once, looking bewildered.
Minerva chuckled.
"Have - what?"
"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."
There had been a previous occasion when Harry, expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, had instead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He sank into a chair opposite her and helped himself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footed as he had done on that occasion.
Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at Harry.
"Potter, you need to be careful."
Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.
Minerva laughed, "Believe it or not, you're teachers are human."
"Most of the time. I mean, technically you are part cat." Remus put in slyly, making the other Marauder's snicker slightly, "And don't bother arguing about myself, I was a Werewolf - technically I was never fully human and got overly hairy once a month so not exactly what you'd call human."
"Rare instances. Most teachers are fully human... Even if they have animalistic traits like I do. And you were more human than most Remus, the most human out of your predecessors at any rate." she smiled kindly, "And a lot more human than those two directly after you."
He smiled but stayed silent, not knowing how to respond.
"Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention."
"What do you -?"
"Potter, use your common sense," snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting."
"She's obviously reporting to Fudge." said Remus.
The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.
"It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.
"What!" they all exclaimed, except those who'd known already.
"Every evening this week!" Harry repeated, horrified. "But, Professor, couldn't you -?"
"No, I couldn't," said Professor McGonagall flatly.
"I can't believe you aren't going to do anything!" James protested.
"I couldn't!" Minerva snapped, "I would have if I could."
"But -"
"She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."
"But I was telling the truth!" said Harry, outraged. "Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is -"
"For heaven's sake, Potter!" said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!"
She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.
"Have another biscuit," she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.
"No, thanks," said Harry coldly.
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.
He took one.
"Thanks," he said grudgingly.
"Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?"
"Not really," said James. "It was very boring."
"And annoying." the twins stated.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah... she said... progress will be prohibited or... well, it meant that... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.
"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate," she said, pointing him out of her office.
"You understood me too well." Harry grinned.
"Of course. I take pride in getting to know my Gryffindor's, being the Head of House meant I had to really pay attention to all of the files about students in order to help them if it was needed." she explained, "I'm only strict through the school year. A tip for teaching is to never show weakness because most students will exploit that weakness." Minerva explained.
"That's what you told me." Remus mused, "And I must say it's definitely true, though I didn't see the point in being too strict."
"Did you even hand out one detention?" Sirius asked curiously.
"A few. Just for students who never done their homework at all, or if I caught anyone bullying." he admitted.
"I know you put both Crabbe and Goyle in detention maybe three times." Draco commented, "Though it doesn't surprise me since they didn't do their homework often. I swear by the time I'd done three essays they'd be halfway through one no matter how much I tried to help them."
"Or how often you messed your own up?" Minerva asked, "I remember reading one of your essays on the spell for turning water into vinegar and bits of it would be about some completely random subject like Astronomy." she chuckled. "It was quite confusing."
"It happened often and I'd never notice." he shrugged, "I only started double checking my essays in 5th year. It was annoying handing in what I thought was a good essay and having the teacher tell me I'd written about something else halfway through."
"It was easier with Professor Slughorn, he used to come to the common room whenever he wasn't busy and sat and helped people who struggled with their homework." Astoria explained.
"Horace did that before he retired too." Albus smiled, "He said it helped him get to know his students and allowed them the chance to get help if it was needed."
"Or find the next person most likely to become famous." Minerva chuckled, "I swear he'd boast like mad about some students, past and present."
"I'd noticed that the first time I met him." Harry nodded, "I'll show it so you can see what I mean, that is if you dont mind Albus."
"Not at all my boy, I have no secrets now." he smiled, "I trust your judgement, if you think everyone can handle it go ahead." he said.
Harry nodded at the double meaning, "Thank you. Now, shall we move on?"