31. Azkaban and Arguments.

"You would laugh to see a pudding crawl..." Spock read aloud, an eyebrow almost rocketing off his face. "...a fascinating image."

Kirk gave him a weird look. "I never thought I'd say this, but that's one of the only phrases I haven't heard Bones say."

"That is hardly surprising, Jim, as it originates in Britain."

McCoy, who was currently wading through Potions notes, didn't even look up. "Is that from the phrasebook Ginny gave you?"

"Affirmative."

Kirk chuckled. "With all those phrases at your disposal, and you still say that."

"The book is not designed to reformulate my speech patterns, merely to aid me in understanding those of others."

"What does it mean then?" McCoy asked.

"According to the given definition – 'a person who laughs at anything, even if it's not dead funny'...I believe the lexis is somewhat lacking in formality."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "It's written by teenagers, Spock. Not everyone can sound like walking computers."

"Indeed. That is not a widely shared aspiration."

McCoy snorted. "What does the next one say?"

"Abso-bloody-lutely..."

Kirk roared with laughter at the sight of his First Officer so calmly pronouncing the British expletive. After a brief shocked pause McCoy joined in, his notes lying forgotten as he turned his full attention on the bewildered Vulcan.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day," the doctor crowed. "I have to say, Spock, you and that phrase go 'bloody' well together..."

Now it was Kirk's turn to snort. "I'll never get used to you saying that Bones, let alone Spock."

"You damn well better, Jim," McCoy smirked, "because you'll be hearing a lot more of it the next time you even try to go planetside unescorted."

"What's the next one?" Kirk asked quickly.

"You can't avoid that rant forever, Jim."

"I can try. Spock?"

"The next," Spock said obediently, "is: 'I don't Adam and Eve it, it's not true!' I am not certain I comprehend, however."

"That's..." Kirk seemed to be struggling for words. "That's..."

"More than slightly insane," McCoy chipped in.

"There is an additional entry."

"Let me see it," Kirk ordered, taking the book. "Who's Alan Whickers?"

"I do not know."

McCoy stared between them both. "Is that all it says – Alan Whickers?"

"It seems so," Kirk replied.

"What the-"

"The definition's on the next page," Kirk announced, swiftly cutting off McCoy. "...Oh."

"Oh?" McCoy repeated, now thoroughly confused.

"Take a look at this, Spock," Kirk said, handing the book back as though he hadn't even heard McCoy.

"Ah."

"Ah?" McCoy demanded.

"That is a significantly unusual method of communication."

"I've never even heard of it."

"It would appear that it is not utilised in our timeline."

"Maybe it died out?" Kirk suggested.

"That is unlikely. As you will recall, I have some experience with regards to ancient Earth media, including that of Britain. I was unfamiliar with the concept until this moment."

"What," McCoy enunciated, "are you two talking about?"

"Cockney slang, Bones."

McCoy looked dumbfounded. "What slang?"

"Cockney."

"Rhyming slang, to be precise," Spock added.

"Oh," McCoy said, finally understanding. "So Adam and Eve means believe, while Alan Whickers means-"

"Knickers," Kirk finished impishly, "yes."

"Trust you to know that one," McCoy muttered.

"I try to stay in character."

"Leonard," Spock intoned quietly, "may I remind you that you are currently neglecting your Potions assign-"

McCoy's vicious swearing cut off the rest of Spock's sentence as the Doctor hurriedly swivelled back around in his chair, sifting through papers hurriedly in his attempt to finish.

"It's too late Bones," Kirk interrupted grimly, pointing at the Muggle clock on the wall. "Breakfast started a few minutes ago."

"I can finish this during breakfast."

"That would be somewhat conspicuous, would it not?"

McCoy glared briefly at Spock. "Not in the Great Hall you pointy eared idiot!"

"Bones, you're the one always ranting on about having good food in the mornings-"

"I don't have time damn it!"

"And suddenly my side of the argument becomes that much clearer."

"Shut up, Jim."

Spock was already halfway to the door. "Gentlemen, our absence would be-"

"Alright alright!" McCoy snapped. "Just give me a – Jim!"

Kirk jogged to the door, grabbing Spock's bag and McCoy's unfinished essay as he went and dodging various objects thrown at him by the irate physician. Spock, who seemed to have understood Kirk's plan, followed.

"Jim, this is most unwise."

"I know," Kirk said wryly. "Bones will kill us..."

"Jim," Spock repeated, slightly more emphasis on the word due to the Vulcan's exasperation, "Professor Snape-"

"...might notice, I know," Kirk finished. "But maybe there's a spell that can transfer the information from your report onto Bones' essay."

"The styles would be noticeably dissimilar."

"There might be a way of changing that," Kirk said quickly as they continued to speed walk down the corridor, an angry and curse spitting McCoy barrelling after them.

"It is doubtful."

"We have to try," Kirk said firmly. "Or at least, I do. I don't want you getting involved in any punishment..."

An eyebrow rose. "What of Leonard?"

Kirk grimaced. "He'd never have finished. I've sat behind him in classes and I can tell you, even at the Academy he wrote like a snail."

"A decidedly undesirable trait."

"JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK!" McCoy roared, still sprinting through the crowd of stragglers on their way to breakfast. "Get back here!"

"I..." Kirk glanced back as McCoy hopped, swearing, around a kissing couple.

"Get a room," McCoy advised them none too gently, causing them to spring apart. "This is a school, not a clinic!"

The teenagers shuffled away in embarrassment, bright red, leaving McCoy staring down a suddenly clear corridor at Kirk, livid gaze zeroing in on the essay.

"...should go," Kirk finished, before running very fast towards the Great Hall.

"I'll deal with you later, Spock," McCoy puffed, breezing past the calm Vulcan.

"Indeed."

"Kirk! What are you doing?" A soft voice suddenly demanded.

From his vantage point, Spock saw McCoy attempting to slow down before he reached the corner Kirk had just disappeared around. With his Vulcan hearing, Spock heard the exchange that followed clearly.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but-"

"Spare me your pitiful excuses, Kirk. Given your teenage mentality a scene like this is hardly surprising. McCoy," he added quickly as the surgeon attempted to tiptoe away, not yet in Snape's visual range, "come here. Yes," Spock could practically hear the smirk, "I know you are there. A rampaging hippogriff could have achieved more stealth."

"Professor," Spock heard Kirk try again as McCoy reluctantly obeyed, "we were only trying to get to the Great Hall in ti-"

"Surely," Snape interrupted, "your stomach can be ignored for one morning, Mr Kirk?"

"I was-"

"Then again," Snape murmured, and Spock could practically see the Potions Master looking Kirk up and down, "it is good practice to prevent yourself from becoming top-heavy. A disproportionate head would no doubt look ridiculous without a stomach to match."

Kirk's voice was tight, but civil. "It won't happen again, Professor."

"No," Snape agreed, no doubt fixing both officers with a piercing stare. "Thirty points from Gryffindor."

"Professor-"

"By all means, Mr McCoy, protest. I have nothing against deducting more points."

There was a tense silence.

"Since you were both apparently so eager to reunite yourselves with food," Snape sneered, "I suggest you do so, and return Mr Spock's bag to him as you go."

"Yes, sir," two voices said simultaneously.

"Damn it," McCoy muttered after several moments. "That over grown potion brewing bat!"

Spock, judging correctly that the danger was on its way to the Great Hall, walked towards the other two.

"We got away lightly, Bones, though I couldn't help but notice he mostly ignored you."

"That's because I'm better at Potions," McCoy pointed out without mercy. "Just give me my damn essay back."

Kirk handed it to him. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," Kirk replied, striding down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"These wouldn't be desperate times if you'd let me finish in peace!"

"You'd never have managed," Kirk said firmly. "You have too much left to write, even with some of the morning spent on it. He wanted three foot of parchment and you've done two sentences of your introduction."

"Spock?" McCoy pleaded, clearly desperate for backup.

"Your ability to write quickly does leave much to be desired," Spock said, "however," he added, turning to Kirk, "an approach of non-interference may have proven more successful."

"I was just trying to help," Kirk argued, pushing open the large door. "You should have started your homework earlier."

"You know I did!" McCoy growled. "It's not my damn fault that Peeves kept dousing my work with ink pellets."

"How inconsiderate," Spock murmured, before drifting off to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was watching him expectantly.

McCoy stared after him, rant forgotten. "That can't have been sarcasm."

"I don't think it was." Kirk's voice was distracted as he steered them both towards the last two seats at the table. He sat down, glancing around the room.

McCoy latched onto this immediately. "Something's happened," he groaned.

Harry, who had been in discussion with his fellow Gryffindors, turned to face them grimly. "There was a mass breakout at Azkaban."

"What?" McCoy hissed, hand pausing as it transferred cereal to his bowl.

"Take a look..." Snatching up a discarded newspaper, Harry handed it to them, watching their responses carefully as they read through the article.

"She tortured Neville's-"

"Yeah," Harry interrupted, shooting a worried glance at Neville, who seemed to alternate between a mood of vengeful anger and depression. "Bellatrix Lestrange tortured his parents."

"Did they..." McCoy began softly.

"No," Harry sighed, "they're still alive, but they don't recognise him. It's Neville's story to tell, really."

Kirk nodded in understanding. "Of course."

McCoy gave the picture another look. "She was on the Enterprise."

"Well she can't have been," Hermione said, joining the conversation. "She's just escaped."

"I'm telling you, I saw her on the Enterprise before we ended up here!"

"That's weird," Kirk muttered.

"Maybe," Hermione said slowly, "her escape has only just been reported. Fudge would do anything to avoid admitting that anything was wrong, so it makes sense to only report it now, when he can blame a mass breakout on an outsider. He probably thinks it helps him escape from blame..."

"Fudge needs to be replaced."

"I'm not sure that's possible, Bones," Kirk said. "It's much easier to live in ignorance of a threat than to face it. By arguing that Voldemort isn't here, Fudge is giving the public what it wants, and they'll keep him in power."

"Not to mention," Ron joined in, "that You-Know-Who isn't actually here, is he?"

"He was," Harry said darkly, a hand going involuntarily to his scar.

"Have you..." Ron looked hesitant, "you know, felt him recently?"

Harry nodded. "He's getting impatient with being stuck on the Enterprise."

"So he doesn't know about this?" Ron asked hopefully, waving the newspaper about.

"How would he?" Kirk asked reasonably.

"The snake?" Ron suggested. "He could possess it, couldn't he, and then get it to read the paper and-"

"Don't be ridiculous Ron," Hermione admonished. "Snakes can't read."

"No, but he can."

"He doesn't know, Ron," Harry insisted. "I'd have felt it."

"Well then," Ron shrugged, speaking through half a mouthful of egg, "if You-Know-Who isn't here, and he doesn't know about it, what do you reckon it was?"

Hermione sighed. "Isn't it obvious? The Death Eaters are desperate. Obviously, they can't find out how to bring Voldemort – oh stop whimpering, Ron – back, so they're breaking out those who are most likely to help."

"Which means," Kirk added, "that if they find the spell first, they'll control where and when Voldemort reappears, and there'll be no chance to defeat him."

"Blimey..."

"And there's more," Harry muttered, pointing at another article. "Bode was murdered."

"He was in St Mungo's," Hermione explained even as they began to read, "he was given Devil's Snare – the Healer said it was a Christmas present."

"A pretty daft Christmas present," Ron said.

"They disguised it," Harry added. "No one recognised it until it was too late."

"Why would anyone want to murder him?" Kirk asked.

"He was an Unspeakable," Ron explained. "They work in the Department of Mysteries."

"The place I dream about," Harry clarified. "Voldemort wants something from there-"

"I've got to write a letter," Hermione suddenly announced, springing to her feet.

"Why?" Ron interrogated, staring at her as she gathered her school bag.

"It...well, I don't know whether...but it's worth trying...and I'm the only one who can." She swept brusquely out the room, determination in every footstep.

"I hate," Ron moaned, "when she does that."

"Does it happen a lot?" McCoy asked in amusement.

"You get used to it," Harry replied, "unless you're Ron..."

"I mean," Ron continued, oblivious to their conversation, "would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once?" He asked as they exited the Hall. "It'd take her about ten more seconds – hey, Hagrid!"

The half giant in question was standing near the doors in the Entrance Hall, bruised as ever. "All righ' you four?"

"Are you ok, Hagrid?" Harry asked as they stepped outside.

"Fine, fine." His tone suggested otherwise. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff – lessons ter prepare – couple o' salamanders got scale rot – an' I'm on probation."

"You're on probation?" Ron and McCoy squawked in unison, attracting more than several curious stares in the process.

"Yeah," Hagrid replied miserably. "'S'no more'n I expected ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh' not've picked up on it, bu' that inspection didn' go too well, yeh know...anyway, bes' go an' rub a bit more chilli powder on them salamanders or their tails'll be hangin' off 'em next." For once, he didn't look enthused by the prospect of his usual duties. "See yeh, you four..."

He trudged away before any of them could even say goodbye.

"Umbridge," Ron muttered darkly as they made their way to Herbology. "She's completely biased; she is, mental – just because Hagrid shows us a few Thestrals..."

He continued his monologue until they reached the greenhouses, apparently forgetting that he was one of those who originally opposed the visiting of dangerous creatures in lessons.

"There might be another death reported in tomorrow's newspaper," McCoy growled when Ron finally stopped. At the others' alarmed looks, he added, "I haven't finished Snape's essay..."

Ron whistled as he pulled on his thick gloves. "I'll say something unforgettable at your funeral; make sure you're remembered as a martyr..."

McCoy grimaced. "I get the feeling he'll have me cremated," he moaned as Hermione sidled, late, into her usual spot. "Or maybe he'll chop me up and brew me in a potion, just for the irony..."

Their Herbology lesson travelled quickly by, their attention kept occupied by the wriggling roots they were supposed to subdue in order to extract the healing sap from the plants. After getting slapped several times in the face by an indignant plant, McCoy's mood had darkened considerably by the time they had trudged down to the Potions classroom.

After his usual abrupt arrival, Snape surveyed the class with something akin to resignation written across his features.

"The essays I set you last lesson are to be placed on my desk. Remember," he added over the rummaging and rustling as students searched for said homework, "that I am not telepathic and cannot, despite my best efforts, identify which untidy scrawl and tedious waffle belongs to which student. Naming your work," he sneered, "would be useful, as you were no doubt taught in your first year."

McCoy scowled at Kirk as the captain returned to his seat after placing his work on the desk. "Thanks Jim. I'm sure in for a treat."

"You had two lines," Kirk defended, lowering his voice as the scraping of chairs died down. "I was going to ask Hermione to duplicate Spock's work using your style."

McCoy harrumphed and opened his mouth, but had no time to reply.

"Mr McCoy," Snape said softly, crossing his arms impatiently, "you have yet to hand me your work."

McCoy glared at Kirk one more time before turning to the Potions Master. "I haven't finished it yet, sir."

Everyone turned to stare incredulously at him, mouths gaping. Several Slytherins snickered.

"I see," Snape said dangerously, gliding steadily closer to McCoy. "You surprise me; even Potter," the lip curled slightly, "has handed in his usual abomination. Did you decide, perhaps, that your magical education was unworthy of your attention?"

He reached the workbench and stood there, still as a statue, eyes glittering. "It appears that given any opportunity you strive to break the rules. While this is hardly your esteemed Star Fleet Academy, you are expected to work – unless of course you wish to join Longbottom in his ever on-going attempts to blow up my classroom."

"I was attacked by Peeves, sir," McCoy said through gritted teeth.

"How unfortunate," Snape said silkily, not sounding sympathetic in the least, "but surely he was not making a nuisance of himself for the entire evening."

"I had other homework to do, sir. It was late when I started Potions and Peeves attacked."

"You had ample opportunity before breakfast to complete my assignment, McCoy. Even you must know that your time would have been better spent in doing so rather than the immature display of 'tag' you decided to indulge in."

McCoy fumed silently, but said nothing. Beside him, Kirk looked vaguely guilty.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention, Mr McCoy, you can complete your homework then. You will report to my office at five o'clock this evening."

"Yes, sir," McCoy almost snarled.

Snape lifted a lazy eyebrow. "Five more points for lack of respect. Now," he turned abruptly and stalked to the front of the classroom, "turn to page 23 in your books. You will find the ingredients and instructions necessary which," he flicked his wand, "are also on the board. Begin."

For several moments, the only sound heard was the chopping of ingredients and slight boiling of potions-to-be in their cauldrons. Everyone was intent on their task, not daring to look up as Snape prowled around the room, passing some benches dismissively while interrogating the inhabitants of others. Only the Slytherins seemed to be enjoying themselves; their smirks widening with each insult their Head of House uttered.

Finally, thankfully, the bell rang to announce the end of the lesson and they trooped wearily out of the room, taking care to leave their desks looking immaculate as they went. Snape didn't spare them a glance, already sorting out the resulting potions of the day and setting them aside for later marking.

"You're still alive, mate," Ron said sympathetically as they passed a shell shocked group of first years waiting for their lesson.

"Not for much longer," McCoy grumbled. "Don't be surprised if he serves me up at breakfast."

"Even Snape isn't that cruel," Hermione interjected, though a slight smile tugged at her lips.

"You'd be surprised," Harry responded. "He's definitely not easy on me during those Occlumency lessons."

"You need to learn to defend yourself, Harry," Hermione said patiently, dodging Peeves as he floated above them, cackling, "and you can't do that unless it's a challenge. There's no use practicing against someone who caves in against you."

"Indeed," Spock added. "Voldemort will show no such mercy."

Harry winced. "I'm trying to avoid thinking about that."

"You can't run away from your problems!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's what Fudge is doing and it isn't getting him anywhere, is it? He's-"

"Are you comparing me to Fudge?" Harry demanded hotly.

"No! I only meant – that's not what I was trying to say, Harry!"

"I'm not trying to run away from my problems!" Harry continued, voice rising in his anger. Several people were beginning to stare but he didn't seem to notice. "If I was then I wouldn't exactly be here now, would I? I could just leave you all alone to deal with Voldemort, but I haven't!"

Hermione looked stricken. "I didn't mean-"

"I'll see you in class," Harry spat, increasing his stride so that he was soon out of earshot.

Hermione looked close to tears. "I-"

"It's alright," Kirk said softly. "You haven't done anything wrong; it's the pressure that everyone's putting on him with all the newspaper articles."

"Yeah," Ron added for good measure, looking slightly put out that he didn't speak first, "it's just stress. We'll give him some space for a bit, and he'll calm down."

"I hope so..." Hermione muttered vaguely, managing to regain control of her emotions just before entering the classroom, though she hesitated slightly before sitting next to an obviously still irritated Harry.

"Silence please," Umbridge simpered from her chair, her resemblance to a toad even stronger.

There were a few groans for good measure, which she pretended not to hear, before silence descended upon the room.

"Open your text books to-"

"Page 24," several people muttered at once.

"-and make notes-"

"There will be no need to talk," someone mimicked to his next door neighbour, voice slightly high pitched.

"That will be quite enough, Mr Higgins," Umbridge said, rippling pompously. "Back to work."

Silence weighed heavily upon the classroom, several students lifting their heads to glare at her for her most recent probation order. Although Hagrid was not considered by most to be a particularly good teacher, he was an extremely popular one. For many, his lessons were an opportunity to get off immediate school grounds (even if that meant going into the Forbidden Forest) and exploring species not normally covered by other teachers in that area of study.

Clearly, it was not a popular decision, and any other mildly competent teacher would have begun to reconsider after facing glares along every single corridor, but Umbridge appeared immune to criticism.

"Professor?" One brave student finally raised her hand, staring directly at the professor in question. McCoy noticed that she was part of a particular group who had appeared devastated at the news.

Umbridge tried to ignore her.

The student gritted her teeth, her mouth set in a determined line.

"If this is about who I think it is," Ron muttered, "she's going to get into a lot of trouble."

"But she'll be saying what we're all thinking, won't she?" Harry whispered back, his earlier anger almost forgotten. "Umbridge can't fight a whole class."

"Yes she can!" Hermione hissed eyes wide. "She's the professor, she could have us expelled!"

"Professor?" The girl asked again, voice more urgent. Dimly, McCoy remembered her name was Katie Philips.

Umbridge finally accepted her fate and turned her sickly sweet smile onto her. "Is this relevant to the passage, Miss Philips?"

"Not directly, no."

"Then it can wait."

"Actually Professor," Katie pressed, "it's relevant to you."

Umbridge became stock still. "Really?" She sounded like one of her purring cats. "Nevertheless, I must ask you to wait, Miss Philips."

From the look on her face, Katie had had enough, and all the weeks of pent up frustration developed by the class went into the next statement. "You certainly don't seem to be waiting to try and turn our brains to mush with your constant 'hem hem-ing' and awful lessons that basically amount to 'open book and read, because I don't have the actual ability to perform the spells that you are supposed to be learning'. Seems a bit unfair to me...you expect me to wait, but what about you?"

Silence reigned supreme as everyone stared in mixed awe and disbelief.

Umbridge actually quivered. "How..." she seemed almost inarticulate with rage, "how dare you?"

Katie, realising she had scored the upper hand, smirked. "I dare quite well you see, it's not that hard when you're so god-awful. Someone needs to put you in your place, that's all. I'm quite willing to do so if you wish... I can do this several times during the day too, absolutely no problem. Can't let your ego get any bigger...although, considering that might make your head explode..."

She continued to look Umbridge in the eye after a brief once over, and proceeded to say the next part with false enthusiasm in her voice, "Umbridge, you are such a wonderful teacher, I adore you ever so much, you really must give me the name of your tailor. I wish to look like I was puked on by Pepto-Bismol too.''

Umbridge bristled, smoothing out her outfit unconsciously as she surveyed the youth before her. "Report to your Head of House at once," she said finally, "for attempted verbal abuse."

"Attempted'?" Katie laughed, bringing several grins to people's faces as they realised that Umbridge had well and truly met her match. "Seriously? Just 'Attempted'? Merlin's Beard, lady, not only are you an idiot at your own subject, you're an idiot at your own language." Umbridge blanched in rage. Several people were now holding bets on how much further the insults could go before Umbridge physically put a stop to it.

Harry, meanwhile, had finally lifted out of his bad mood and was openly smiling, poised on the edge of his seat as though he wanted to add something, but was stopped by Hermione.

"Harry, you can't!"

"Yeah, mate," Ron snickered, "I want to see how this ends first."

"That wasn't 'attempted' verbal abuse," Katie continued, as though talking to a very slow child, "that was verbal abuse. There was no 'attempt', trust me. I'd know. It's not my fault you don't know what half of these words mean. I is sorry for making your head hurt. There, did you understand that better now? As for reporting to my Head of House, but of course." She stood up defiantly.

"On second thought, Miss Philips," Umbridge said as Katie walked towards the door, "you had better stay here. I will have a word with you at the end of the lesson before sending you to Professor Snape and assigning you your due punishment."

Katie stopped, turned around and cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to go to my Head of House? Or is your brain so tiny that you forgot he's in the dungeons? I need to leave the room for that, you know."

"Sit down Miss Philips," Umbridge fairly snarled, making a few in the front row jump. Katie sat down, a scheming glint in her eye that her classmates liked the look of, but which Umbridge fortunately did not notice.

At the front of the class and turning a colour that greatly clashed with her disaster of an outfit, Umbridge seemed to struggle for breath.

Harry, despite all his friends' warnings, raised his hand to take his turn. "Professor? While we're on the topic of incompetence and bad judgement," several people snickered, "I have something to ask you, since you're the only one who understands the situation."

With a failing attempt to reign in her anger, Umbridge spoke. "I must ask you to restrain your desire for questioning until the end of the lesson, Mr Potter."

Harry snorted. "I thought this was a free for all."

"Harry, no..." Hermione moaned, tugging his sleeve desperately.

Harry ignored her. "Doesn't the Ministry claim to be unprejudiced?"

Umbridge seemed to debate on whether or not to answer. "I hardly expect you to understand our slogans, Mr Potter, as they are aimed at wizards of higher intelligence than yourself."

Katie rolled her eyes. "You can fool yourself-"

"Miss Philips!"

"She's right," Harry pushed, getting back into the stride of the argument. "You don't keep your own promises! You're putting people like Hagrid onto probation, just because you don't like the fact he's only half human, while pretending that you've got balanced opinions – then you wonder why the wizarding community is turning against you!"

"He is an incompetent oaf of a half-breed!" Umbridge bit out, finally having reached the end of her tether. "He is the very reason that people of pure status should be employed in areas such as this."

Spock raised his eyebrows. Now, it was McCoy's turn to protest. "Damn it, you stubborn hobgoblin, remember what you said-"

"It is evident that the general population of Hogwarts is not in agreement with that statement."

"He means she's deluded," Kirk whispered to Ron, who was staring at Spock with his mouth hanging half open.

"Educated individuals must-"

Katie turned to the person next to her, who happened to be Malfoy, and whispered loudly into his ear, her word carrying around the classroom. "Educated."

Malfoy sniggered and whispered back in just as carrying a murmur. "Someone needs to buy her a proper dictionary, I think."

Umbridge was beginning to look slightly deranged. "The next person who speaks," she said loudly, "shall receive detention."

"Hagrid," Harry persisted, "is a good teacher! We learn more from him than we do in any class with you!"

"Detention, Mr Potter!" Umbridge cried in triumph, her hands flapping slightly as she pointed at their desks. "Now, back to your work, children, your education is precious!"

"Not as precious as your brain cells," Malfoy muttered, sniggering.

Umbridge slammed a book from her hand bag onto her desk pointedly, and proceeded to glare at them for the last five minutes of the lesson, the argument having used up all of their supposed 'study' time. The grins did not fade from anyone's face as they pretended to bury themselves in their books, not a single page being turned over as nobody was reading. Even Harry still looked vaguely satisfied despite his latest punishment.

Finally, the bell rang, signalling excited chatter as they all filed from the room, for once in no hurry to leave. The sight of a thoroughly humiliated Umbridge sitting stock still at her desk was enough to grab anyone's attention.

"Hey!" Ron shouted as they started off down the corridor at long last, "Weren't you meant to wait behind?"

Katie shrugged. "You didn't hear her say that, did you, because I didn't." Before Ron could even argue, she had winked at him and turned to Harry. "And that, Potter, is how you argue with her. I'm surprised that you haven't figured it out yet."

She walked away calmly, not waiting for a reply and yet not needing one. Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors stared after her, dumbfounded, as she soaked up the congratulations of their classmates.

Hermione sighed. "Well, Harry, I did warn you..."