Chapter Seven: The Madness of Dolores Umbridge
Hey! What's with the tone, Potter? All I asked was "What's going on"?
At once, I knew Harry was upset. He'd never snap at anyone otherwise -- that is, until recently. Unfortunately, for the rest of us, Harry's mood swings were becoming increasingly frequent. Was his angry tone a reaction from what had happened to him during his O.W.L.S.? I didn't know for sure, but honestly, there was no need to be so snippy with me -- or Luna, for that matter.
I wasn't about to back down, either. Get stuffed Potter!
Paying no attention to Harry's rather rude attitude towards me, I kept an even temper and offered to help him, Ron, and Hermione out. I'd had enough arguments with the opposite sex for one day; I wasn't about to try and start another one. Harry got short with me again, and I nearly threw my temper out the window as I contemplated doing the same to 'The Boy Who Lived'. And people believe I'm in love with this moody little prat? I would never be in love with anyone so bloody boorish!
It was then that Hermione suddenly had a plan. She sounded extremely desperate to help Harry understand the danger of his sudden impatience. You see, Harry was rather insistent that Sirius was not at home, but at the Department of Mysteries instead.
Hermione, however, was sure that, with the burden of responsibility Harry often felt with the so-called title of "savior" of the Wizarding world, Harry was often taken with a bit of a "save the world" complex. This was a subject Hermione and I had discussed many times before in private. I'd agreed with her about most of it, but then again, she'd never dealt with the Dark Lord on a personal level. So I supposed I could have sympathized with Harry about that, even though he didn't always remember that I too, had dealt with him and lived through it. Hermione was convinced that You-Know-Who was tricking Harry in some way as a trap. I silently agreed. It was a frightening thought that sent a shiver down my spine -- that is, until I opened my mouth in the midst of my own confusion.
"Sure, we'll help!" I offered.
What the hell am I saying? I must be going mad! Why on earth am I offering to help him? He never even thanked me for helping him talk to Sirius the first time! Okay, so I let him think it was Fred and George's idea, but that's beside the point! I shouldn't be helping him right now; I should be hexing him, that ungrateful git!
I don't know what caused me to offer to help so quickly, because it wasn't his attitude, that's for certain. Before I knew it, I was in the corridor outside Professor Umbridge's office with Luna, creating a distraction for Harry and Hermione. The plan was for her and Harry to sneak into Professor Umbridge's office -- the only room with a fireplace that wasn't being watched, so that Harry could contact Sirius at Grimauld Place.
From what I gathered, Harry felt that Sirius was in some sort of danger, and as much as he meant to Harry, I didn't hesitate to help. After all, aside from my family, and Sirius being his Godfather and all, he was the only family Harry had, as well as one of the few connections he had to his parents. While Luna and I would be used as lookouts for Harry and Hermione, Ron would go and try to head Umbridge off before she came back to her office, spouting off about Peeves creating some disaster, or the like.
As a distraction for clearing the corridor, I decided to go with someone who was letting off some Garroting Gas, fondly remembering that I overheard Fred and George planning to do it before they left. Just grand. They leave, and I'm here to fend for myself with the likes of Hermione, Ron, and Mr. Wants-to-Save-the-World again.
As my plan began to work and the crowd of students began to die down, my thoughts betrayed me, as usual, and I began to fester about Harry's attitude. That prat! Who the hell does he think he is anyway? Ever since Cedric died, he really has become such a whiny little git. Acting as if he were the only teenager with problems! Oh, I don't want to think about him. He's not worth my time anyway. Why, I ought to . . .
"Hello Ginny," I heard Neville say brightly as he came down the corridor.
Neville Longbottom and I had been friends ever since my ordeal with the diary and Tom Riddle. I'd been so distraught in those first few days after the events in the Chamber of Secrets. Even worse, no one, not even my own family, had the courage to talk to me. I can understand now, of course, that the poor blokes had no idea what to say to me, nor did everyone else in Gryffindor House. I would have liked to talk with Hermione, but I had become rather uncomfortable talking to one of my best friends, whom I'd just happened to set a Basilisk on. I eventually got over it and talked to her, of course. However, at first, that was out of the question.
So there was no one. Then along came Neville.
I had been sitting in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, which I had claimed as my own for writing in the diary. For hours I sat there, staring at the wall, trying to let the events of the last year sink in. When suddenly, one evening, Neville came over and quietly sat down beside me. "I don't believe I've properly introduced myself. I'm Neville Longbottom."
Nodding slightly in acknowledgement, I continued to stare into the wall. "I know."
"Oh," he said, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. That's really silly of me. I really never know how to say things sometimes. Just as clumsy in words as in life I suppose." He paused, and suddenly he sounded more intent and confident in his words. "What I meant to say is that I understand. I know what it's like to have a part of yourself taken away from you. And, well, if you ever need to talk about it . . . well, I'm here."
Probably looking at him quite pitifully, I watched him pull out a handkerchief and hand it to me. That's all it took. I confessed everything to him. Aside from bits and pieces to my Mum and Hermione, Neville is the only one who I'd ever told about the diary of Tom Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets.
Soon, Neville and I became fast friends. I think that at some point in my second year, he even fancied me a bit. But he had given up the notion when he realized how infatuated I was with one of his dorm mates.
In fact, it was me that he had ended up taking to the Yule Ball the previous year. Really, he had wanted to take Hermione, as he had always found her interesting. Of course, I knew that Ron would never ask her, so I must admit I was rather shocked when I learned that she had accepted an invitation to the ball from Viktor Krum. In the end, I'd opted to go with Neville, knowing full well that certain individuals would never ask me. But we won't even go into that affair. That's all too depressing in and of itself.
Besides, if it hadn't been for Neville taking me to the ball, I would never have met Michael. I remember it so well . . .
How he had whisked me away, dancing on what seemed like a cloud after the toe crushing of my dear friend with two left feet. Oh, but I don't want to talk about him either.
"Hey, Neville," I said, trying to act casual, not knowing whether or not to let him in on the secret.
"I heard someone let off some Garroting Gas around here."
"Yeah, right over here," I pointed down the corridor. "I'm here letting people know. Look, you'd better get out of here before I get in trouble . . ."
"What do you mean, Gin?"
Honestly, I must have the worst karma in the world, for at that very moment, trouble came around the corner.
"Weasley! Longbottom! What are you two doing down here?"
I heard the slow, deep drawl of Draco Malfoy as he crept around the corner of the corridor.
"Nothing, Malfoy," I said casually. "I was just telling Neville here that he'd better leave before he gets a whiff of the Garroting Gas that someone let off here down the hallway."
"Yes, so I've heard." Malfoy said slyly. "I've come to investigate for the Inquisitorial Squad." For a moment, I could have sworn that he had puffed out his chest just slightly. The gesture was so graceful, and yet so demanding of attention, that it would have put my own brother, Percy, to shame.
Realizing that it was far too late to begin a chorus of "Weasley Is Our King", I looked back to Luna, trying to catch her attention. I should have known that she was looking aimlessly down the hall, and in no way was I about to catch her attention. As Malfoy began his search of the corridor, I began to get worried for Harry and Hermione's safety. In desperation, I did the only thing that I could think to do -- I improvised.
"Neville," I began brightly, trying to ignore Malfoy's ferreting about, I said, "You know, it's been a while since I've heard you sing? And you have such a lovely voice. Would you like to sing a couple of verses of 'Weasley Is Our King' with me?"
Just the look on Neville's face was enough to tell me he thought I was mad. "Lovely singing voice?" he asked nervously, in a near whisper.
"Oh, you know you do, Neville." I said pressingly, scooting up to him and elbowing him in the arm. "Now don't be shy. Come on, I'll start…"
"That won't be necessary, Miss Weasley," said a delicate voice that filled me with dread.
Both of us turned around and we came face to face with Professor Umbridge, along with Crabbe, Warrington and Bulstrode, their wands at the ready. As if that wasn't bad enough, Ron was in their custody, struggling under Warrington's right arm, with a freshly split lip. "In fact," Umbridge continued, "I believe boisterous singing might need to be included in the next Educational Decree, don't you think?"
She shoved past Neville and myself and called to Malfoy, who was just arriving at her office door. "Anything here?" she asked.
"No…" Malfoy began, but quickly stopped, and put up his hand, signaling for silence.
Umbridge spun around with a devilish look upon her face. "What are you really doing here, Miss Weasley?" she asked softly.
"There was Garroting Gas let off in the corridor, and I was just…"
"Don't lie, Miss Weasley. It's most unbecoming of a young lady your age."
I noticed that Malfoy was now nodding and smiling at the door. In horror, I again turned to Neville, who was beginning to realize what was happening, if only in part, and he grabbed my arm.
"Go!" he shouted without hesitation, and we ran past Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad towards the other end of the corridor, shouting at the still oblivious Luna.
"Luna, run!" I said, grabbing a hold of her arm as I ran past.
"After them!" I heard Umbridge shout, with a trampling of feet not far behind.
"What's going on, Ginny?" Neville huffed as I lead them down another corridor.
"No time, Neville. We have to get out of here!"
But it was too late. Another line of Slytherins headed us off at the other end of the corridor. I looked around, in the hopes of seeing an escape route, but to no avail.
We were caught.
Gagged and bound by the small band of Slytherins, Ron, Neville, Luna and I were lead into Umbridge's office, where, along with Malfoy, Umbridge was already interrogating Harry and Hermione.
I struggled relentlessly, attempting to loosen the strong grip of the rather large Slytherin girl holding my hands behind my back, with the hopes of somehow getting free and telling someone -- anyone who would listen really at this point.
Perhaps I could get a hold of Mum and Dad, who, I was sure, could contact Headmaster Dumbledore, though I couldn't even fathom where his whereabouts could be. Even the thought of reaching Percy filled me with a hope of escape, so I kicked and stomped back at the girl behind me.
I looked at my friends, trying to gain eye contact so that I could convey my plan. Neville, who was now being held by Crabbe, was nearly to the point of passing out by the strong hold around his neck. Luna, oblivious as usual, looked blandly around the room, unaware of the eminent danger we were all in. The only one who, like myself, was still struggling was Ron, chin and neck now bloodied from a cut on his lip. He was trying to worm his way out of the half-nelson the giant brute, Warrington, had him in.
Hermione, though not gagged like the rest of us, was being held back by Millicent Bulstrode, another fifth year Slytherin that Hermione despised with a passion. Umbridge sent Malfoy immediately for Snape. I figured she would need some sort of potion in order to get the defiant Harry to tell her what they were doing in her office.
When he arrived, Snape was seemingly unfazed by the obvious apprehension of us all. How could he not care at all what was going on? What a rat bastard he was indeed!
The only good that came out of the arrival of Snape was that when Umbridge demanded that he give her another vial of Veritaserum, he refused, claiming that she had used the last of his stores in a previous interrogation of Harry. There was a not so surprising superiority in his voice when he said that she should have only used a few drops and shouldn't have used it all up so quickly, and I smiled inwardly as he told her that it would take another month to cure up a new batch.
Umbridge was furious, to say the least, and I half expected her to fall to the floor like a child with a tantrum, when, in her anger, she screamed at him that he would be placed on probation. Snape made it more than apparent that he cared for Umbridge's authority about as much as our imprisonment and he turned to leave.
I was astounded when Harry began blurting out about someone having Padfoot at the "place where it's hidden". Is he mad? Why is Harry trying to tell Snape about Sirius? And in code no less? Doesn't he know that Snape could care less? He couldn't be in the Order, could he?
Snape did what anyone else expected from him: he plainly denied even knowing what Harry was talking about and quickly left the room.
Everyone looked back to Umbridge, who suddenly seemed very uneasy about something. She began muttering to herself and tapping her wand against the palm of her hand. Whatever it was she was muttering about, it couldn't have been good because I could see Malfoy's eyes brighten with an eager and excited look upon his face.
I nearly choked on my gag when Umbridge finally made her intentions known. She was going to use Cruciatus Curse on Harry. I was appalled. An Unforgiveable Curse! Those who use it are sent to Azkaban forever! How could she?
By now, it was evident that all reason had left Umbridge at the door and only her madness remained. I was surprised when she made a confession herself -- it was she who sent the Dementors after Harry over the previous summer, causing him to get into a heap of trouble with the Ministry of Magic because he ended up using magic to keep them from attacking him and his cousin. How did this insane woman ever get a job in the Ministry? I was determined, more than ever, to free myself and figure out some means of escape.
That is, until Hermione began to cry, telling Umbridge that she would tell her everything. I couldn't believe my ears. Hermione, one of Harry's, as well as my own best friends was about to spill her guts! I'm going to kill her!
I wrestled even harder against my captor just to try to keep Hermione from talking. Ron was screaming at her through his gag not to do it, and even Millicent Bulstrode let go in shock as Hermione began to sob into her robes, crying miserably.
Umbridge however was delighted to finally get some answers, and threw Hermione into a chair, leering over her to hear her as clearly as she could.
The whole room suddenly became very still, when, in between sobs, Hermione admitted to making an attempt to contact Dumbledore. Ron and I both stopped our struggles and stared in amazement at the bloody brilliant actress before us.
Hermione went on to tell Umbridge about a weapon we had developed to use against the Ministry. That was all Umbridge needed. She demanded that Hermione show her the weapon. Hermione convinced to take her, along with Harry, to see the weapon, which she claimed was in the Dark Forest, leaving the rest of us behind in Malfoy's charge.
