Author's Note: Another combined request for skyflyte12 who asked for Umbridge/Snape, Volixia669 who wanted a voice distortion charm, and Will0Whisper who wanted a speech impediment.

Shotacon: A female who is romantically interested in innocent young boys. Often used as comic relief in animé shows.

Take 11

"Mr Creevey," the honeyed voice hissed into his ear, and Dennis jumped a mile into the air. "May I know exactly what are you doing?"

Trembling, Dennis turned to face his doom – otherwise known as the new Headmistress and the only one who had usurped her position. "Taking – taking photographs, m'am." His voice shook, and with good reason.

"I see." Her sugary tone had not changed in the least, yet Dennis flinched as though physically struck. There was an Educational Decree coming out because of him, he just knew it. He had taken too many incriminating photographs for her to let him go now.

Umbridge had no idea how photographic evidence of her doing unspeakable evil things – such as having long discussions with Argus Filch and making Professor Trelawney cry – had found its way into the Quibbler and into the hands of the public, but she could make a fair guess. After all, there were only two avid photographers in the castle, and she was clutching the arm of one of them. It did not take a genius to figure out who the culprit was.

It did, however, take Umbridge three months.

"Well, Mr Creevey," she crooned, breathing into his ear and causing Dennis to shudder in disgust at the proximity of the Queen Toad. "Shall we have a little look at what absolutely fascinating pieces of falsehood you have stored in that device of yours?"

Dennis was struck with indecision. What could he do? He could not hand over his camera to his worst enemy, yet she could do much, much worse than give him detention. After all, she was one of Fudge's sycophants, and that man was the Minister of Magic, the almighty supreme power over Magical Britain. The King Toad to her Queen Toad. She could destroy all his future prospects just by breathing his name into Fudge's ear.

Umbridge was not so patient when her prize was so near. Like an amphibian that had caught sight of a particularly juicy fly, she pounced. "Give me that!" she screeched, pink nails digging deep into his shoulder and thrashing violently. Dennis desperately held the camera as far away from her as he could, praying silently for a miracle.

There was a loud crash as a nearby suit of armour conveniently toppled over. Umbridge straightened, eyes narrowing at the disturbance. "Who's there?" she shrieked, her grip on him loosening slightly.

Seizing his chance, Dennis fled from the mad maybe-pedophile-definitely-shotacon woman.

The voice distortion charm is a nifty little charm often used in pranks. All words spoken by the victim will be replaced by their direct opposites, whenever possible.

In reality, effects are similar to the game commonly known as "Opposite Day".

The charm will wear off in sixteen hours if not renewed.

Colin closed the book with a snap and smirked.

Somewhere in the castle, Umbridge sneezed.

Umbridge sneered as Harry Potter rushed into class, two seconds after the bell rang. Hot on his heels was Draco Malfoy, who skidded to a stop in front of her and nodded politely. Umbridge smiled sweetly. Such a well-mannered young gentleman, unlike that half-blood brute. "Twenty points from Gryffindor! Thirty points to Slytherin!"

Well, at least, that was what she wanted to say.

What actually came out was, "Twenty points to Gryffindor! Thirty points from Slytherin!"

The class gaped at her in utter shock.

Umbridge blinked, wondering what was wrong and why the young Malfoy was frowning at her. She mentally rewound her sentence a few times – she was never good at prepositions – before realising her error. Now to correct that mistake… how many must she add back again?

Did anyone mention that she needed her toes to count anything more than ten?

After a short while – that was actually half an hour later, but the class was too stunned to remind her – she cleared her throat again. "Hem hem, as I was saying, fifty points from Gryffindor, forty points to Slytherin!"

Except, of course, it came out the opposite.

Pansy Parkinson raised up her hand in confusion.

"Speak, girl," Umbridge tried to say, but what came out was, "Shut up, boy."

Pansy snapped her mouth shut, anger and shock mirrored in her eyes.

"My father will hear of this," snarled Draco.

The bell rang.

Needless to say, Umbridge was not having a good day.

Snape mentally rolled his eyes as Umbridge stalked past. "Stalking young boys again, Headmistress?" he drawled, referring to her obsession with Harry Potter.

Umbridge spun around. Could he be the one who knocked over that suit of armour, allowing the insufferable Creevey boy to escape her clutches?

Eyes narrowing, she advanced on him. The menacing effect was totally ruined, however, by the fact that she was over a head shorter than him.

Hidden behind a pillar, Colin twirled his wand, the book open to another page.

Pink, fluffy wings exploded out of Umbridge's back, causing her to overbalance and pitch forward. Snape jumped backwards in horror, but she collided with his legs and flailed about like an oversized rotund. Both of them went crashing to the ground, and to their collective horror, she started to sing.

"Her eyes are as red as a rotten pickled toad, her hair is as light as a whiteboard. You wish she was yours, she's really earthly, the villain who gave in to the Light Lady."

Snape wondered if he could Obliviate himself.