ELEVEN
With the changing of the colorful autumn season to the keen chill of winter also came the nature of Umbridge's classroom. Her Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, which weren't so much as lessons to begin with, but rather just her reading vaguely written concepts from the chalkboard, spiraled soon after. By October, her frightful attempts at lecturing transformed into her not choosing to teach at all and instead having students read quietly from their assigned, Ministry-approved textbooks while she stood over them in silent contempt. And when mindless reading was discovered to be not nearly as engaging as the professor would have thought, she turned to her students simply copying entire chapters straight from the textbook for the entirety of the classroom time. It was the kind of note-taking that left a student's brain numb and hand cramped and with no recollection of any new information retained by the time the hour was up.
It was Tuesday, and Eve and her fellow sixth year Hufflepuffs walked into Umbridge's classroom with the routine intention of scribbling illegible words from an illegible textbook. They took their usual spots in a middle section of the rows of desks, not too close to the professor's face for her piercing tone and not too far back for when she took her patterned rounds of watching behind students' heads.
In her particular wooden and soulless manner, Umbridge sat at her desk, offering a tight smile that was never the least bit welcoming to her arriving students.
"I need to perfect sleeping with my eyes open," Douglas muttered from his customary spot next to Eve.
"Surely, I can just stun you," Eve offered back in a similar low tone.
"Oh, you'd be straight to Azkaban if Umbridge saw you use magic for such reckless mayhem," Douglas replied, but his smile was cut short by the high-pitched sound of a throat being cleared.
Umbridge stood from her desk and approached the front end of it, seeming to take the time to peer at each of her students' faces in dreadful anticipation.
"Turn to page 119 and begin copying Chapter 10, and when you are finished, begin Chapter 11," Umbridge ordered, not moving from her spot in the slightest as she watched the students slowly turn to their textbooks and fumble for the assigned pages. Eve did the same, turning to a page entitled Chapter 10: Non-Offensive Responses Against a Magical Attack.
Eve hardly read what she wrote, and the class went by as it usually did, in perfect, intrusive silence. The chapter went through tactics of defending oneself from dark magic such as; apparating away, ducking behind large objects, or, Eve's favorite, conducting a conversation of negotiation. To think this whole time, they just needed to have a quick chat with the Dark Lord to fix things over.
Eve finished the chapter in about half the class time, taking a moment to release her grip on her quill and stretch her clenched hand. She could hear the sharp clicks of Umbridge's heels somewhere behind her.
She let out a small, tired sigh and turned to the next assigned chapter, Chapter 11: Negotiation Tactics for Non-Magical Beings. Eve glanced between the title and the passages a few times, confusion and the slight jolt of shock hitting the strings of her heart. And for the first time in the entire school year in this classroom, Eve did the unimaginable; she read.
She scanned from subsection to subsection, quickly reading between the author's claims on magical creatures, werewolves, veela, giants, all of who, Eve thought to herself, could quite reasonably be considered magical beings. She finally got the page that she was seeking because she very much knew it was coming, the page entitled, Negotiation Tactics for Muggles.
Eve read through the muggle portion with quick vigor and slight desperation, scouring the words for the sentences she dreaded reading. These were the kind of claims she had only heard in passing when people spoke about 'older times' or casually hypothesizing what only the most ignorant and prejudice people might think. This was, of course, that muggles were inadequate subspecies, a part of the population that was vastly inferior in every way to wizards and witches, but because of their numbers, they still served as a threat to the magical population. All of these words, all of these ideas, were there in the pages in front of Eve, just packaged in polite, Ministry-correct language usage.
Eve couldn't help but feel emotional from the words she was reading. It was an emotion that was transforming within her from her motionless spot at her desk. Her disbelief turned to hurt, and from hurt, something much angrier rose inside of her. She couldn't believe Hogwarts had let this woman teach such a thing, such ignorance to students, some of which had direct ties to the muggle world. And that didn't mean Eve was dumb to the troubles of the world around her; she knew there were members of the wizarding world who felt this way. She knew what the Dark Lord had been after for so long now. But even so, Eve still had felt that Hogwarts was a place she had thought she belonged to. A place that had accepted her despite being birthed in another world. She had never felt this kind of rejection before, this kind of attack.
And for the first time in this classroom, she did something else; she raised her hand.
Initially, no one around her noticed when she did this. Her peers obviously stuck in their own inner turmoil between their textbooks and quills. But Umbridge had seen her hand, very quickly in fact, like a hawk finally spotting its prey amidst the gravel and leaves.
"Miss de Santos."
Eve's name echoed within the silent classroom, causing the heads of each and every student to turn at an alarmingly rapid rate. If it had been any other time, the eyes now on Eve would have caused a minor bit of embarrassment from the girl, but she did not feel it now. Her attention was still on the professor that had said her name with such pointed polite aggression, she felt maybe she'd shake.
Eve had never heard Umbridge say her name before. In fact, she didn't even know the professor had known her name. But Umbridge said it so clearly, without hesitation, as if she had been waiting for the moment where she'd finally get to utter it.
"Did you have a question about the chapters, dear?" Umbridge's voice broke Eve's stare again, and she quickly cleared her throat to reply.
"In Chapter 11," Eve began, glancing back down at her textbook as if to search for her own words. She realized now that she had not prepared what she would say to her professor, only that she felt desperate to say something or else she was blow up and scatter into a million pieces.
"The section on muggles… The author claims that muggles are below intelligence to us and yet, at the same time, claims they are a threat to the wizarding world. How could that possibly be? That doesn't make sense," Eve replied, trying her hardest at stern confidence, but she found her voice sounding a bit more pleading than she would have liked. Her face turned to a grimace when she watched Umbridge's smile widen at her words.
"Muggles have always existed as a threat to our world. The wizarding world cannot live peacefully and thrive as long as the muggle world is given trust. It is their lifestyle, their ethics, their blood…" Umbridge's face did not falter from her smile as she spoke, but the corners of her mouth did twitch for a moment when she uttered her last sentence. Eve couldn't believe what she was hearing come out of her professor's mouth.
"But that's not true, professor. I know muggles-" Eve began.
"Yes, I am well aware of your background, Miss de Santos," Umbridge replied, cutting off Eve now and seeming to lose all control of her smile. Eve herself was momentarily speechless by this reply. Moments ago, she had no idea that Professor Umbridge could even recognize her face amidst a crowd of students, but now Eve was understanding that her professor knew more about her than she ever would have imagined.
"And in what ways do you exactly know-" Eve started before again being cut off, this time by a voice she was not expecting, and with a word she only knew from retellings.
"Mudblood."
The voice was low, but the word caused an immediate turn of heads, Eve's included, and it wasn't hard to see the grinning voice it was uttered by.
Marcus Flint was a Slytherin in Eve's year and who Eve also knew from the quidditch team. He was known for being particularly heinous and aggressive, both on and off the quidditch pitch, which is an achievement for any person belonging to his house. Eve met eyes with him now, a sharp intake of breath coming from her lips.
"What did you just say to me?" She asked, loud enough for the entire classroom to hear now, but it was Umbridge who spoke up instead.
"Miss de Santos, we raise our hands in this classro-"
"Did you not hear what he just said to me?" Eve asked now, turning to the professor with a look of horror, but Umbridge didn't look the least bit phased by the incident. For a second, Eve became consciously aware of Douglas's death grip on her knee, but she didn't turn to him.
"Detention, after class, Miss de Santos. I will not be interrupted in my classroom," Umbridge stated, her eyes fiery now and her mouth quivering at the edges. The professor turned her back towards the class for a moment, walking seemingly to her desk once again, but Eve figured she was trying to regain control without the watchful eye of her students.
Eve opened her mouth again. This reaction caused the grip on her knee to tighten, and she could hear Douglas mutter her name under his breath.
This incoming protest must have somehow been felt by Umbridge because the professor turned around once again and shot her look straight into Eve's.
"And I should suggest, dear, that you begin to learn your place here at this school."
And with that line, Umbridge giggled and Eve crumbled entirely.
The rest of the class was a haze. Eve scribbled on her parchment, but she had no idea if she was even forming letters. She could feel Douglas glance towards her ever so often, but she did not meet his gaze.
Eve had never spoken to a teacher like that before. In fact, she had never spoken to anyone like that before. But she had also never had a teacher speak to her like that before, with such venom and spite. It was as if Eve had personally attacked Umbridge, the way the professor reacted to her. As if her entire presence was an attack on the woman.
But maybe it is.
And this thought then led her to Marcus Flint. And the word he had called her. The word she only knew from stories people had told her from times her infancy wouldn't allow her to remember. The word that was used on people like her to humiliate, degrade, and segregate from their pureblood counterparts. And at one point in time, Eve thought, to kill.
A pitch of pain was felt within her heart, and then the class bell chimed.
Eve could hear the immediate sound of movement around her as students began to quickly fill out of the classroom. She could hear Douglas squirm in his seat before moving his face inches towards her.
"Good lord, Eve. What the hell was that?" Douglas muttered. It was now that she finally turned to her friend.
Douglas's eyes were more of concern than confusion, but still, Eve knew her friend must have been completely blindsided by her outburst. She only shrugged and diverted her eyes back to her textbook, taking her own time to collect her things.
"I'll wait for you," Douglas began again, this time in a softer tone, but Eve shook her head.
"It's fine, I swear. She probably just wants me to write more lines or something," Eve sighed, doing her best to sound annoyed rather than shaken, but she figured her best friend could see the difference.
"Right. I'm off to see Flint then," Douglas nodded, waving Eve off as she looked at him now with pleading eyes. The last thing she needed was for someone else to get detention over a situation she ultimately caused.
"Miss de Santos."
Eve became very aware now that it was just her and Umbridge left in the classroom. She watched as the professor stood from her seat and head to the stairs that led to her private office. Eve presumed this was an indication that she was meant to follow, and so she grabbed her book bag and headed towards the direction that would lead to her detention.
Climbing the short set of stairs, Eve was immediately met with the bright, harsh tone of bubblegum pink. And when she reached the door, the pink tones merged with such a distinct, recognizable sound, Eve almost couldn't believe it to be true. But when she entered the room and took one glance at the walls, her initial reaction was right; it was cats. Or, more specifically, kittens. Dozens, upon dozens, of framed kitten decorative plates and frames hung on the office walls. Each kitten meowed its own tone of feverish misery as if they pleaded for freedom with each visitor that came in.
Eve turned to Umbridge now, as if awaiting an explanation for such a strange academic quarter, but the professor only smiled and nodded for the student to sit.
Eve hesitated for a moment before nodding and taking a seat in front of the professor's pink-clad desk. A piece of blank parchment adorned the spot on the desk right in front of her.
"Erm, did you want me to-" Eve began, gesturing to her back bag, indicating whether she should take her class supplies out or not. Umbridge shook her head with a small smile. The professor seemingly had collected all the control she had momentarily lost earlier and was now back to her usual passive-aggressive politeness.
"I'm going to have you complete my own exercise of lines," Umbridge explained, but as she noticed Eve reach for her bookbag, clearly for her quill, the professor continued, "I have my own quill for you."
Eve watched Umbridge move her own quill and inkwell towards Eve's side of the desk. She glanced from her professor to the writing tool with puzzlement but took the quill in her hand all the same.
"You will be writing for me; I must not speak unless spoken to."
Eve took a sharp intake of breath, her eyes meeting her professors with all the anger and hurt she so desperately wanted to dispel out in front of her. But she looked back down instead.
"How many times, professor?" Eve asked, the quill in her hands touching the parchment in ready anticipation.
"However many times you feel necessary to learn from your actions today."
Eve thought the answer would simply be impossible then, but she slowly began writing.
It was when she got to not that she began feeling something strange. The sensation was coming from her opposite hand that grazed her lap, and when the feeling grew too much for her to ignore, she finally looked down. Light markings were etched on the front of her hand, and when she raised her arm to look closer, she could see the words I must not.
Eve looked to Umbridge, who was already ready to meet her eyes.
"Students in my classroom will learn discipline my way. In the way myself and the Ministry sees fit."
Eve's eyes were wide as she looked at Umbridge, but she was unable to form a response. It was not just her hand that felt on fire now, but her whole body. But the girl felt trapped, and the utterance of the word "Ministry" scared her, so she found herself silently scribing the line.
The detention lasted probably only 10 minutes, but for Eve and the ache in her hand, it felt like painstaking hours. It was when Umbridge finally told her to stop and dismissed her that Eve then noticed that her hand was bleeding.
Eve had no parting words as she quietly closed the door of the office behind her. Walking back down the stairs and into the empty classroom, Eve let out the massive breath she seemed to have held the entire ordeal. She felt tears well in her eyes, but she quickly shook them off.
Not here, please, do not cry here.
Eve felt relief when she was greeted by an empty corridor. She looked down at her bleeding hand and sensed for the first time that she was a stranger to a place she had once felt so belonged to.
