The class began to file in and Dolores tapped her quill lightly on her attendance list, glancing at the names. Her eyes lingered on one in particular for a moment.
Her thoughts whirled in her brain. Finally.
The bell rang and she turned to address her class.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said sweetly, smiling sweetly.
A murmured response met her greeting.
"Tut, tut," she chided. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class repeated.
"There, now," Dolores said smoothly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out."
The class began and ran smoothly from there. Dolores assigned them a section in their book to read, before promptly sitting back at her desk. Everything was going smoothly.
Until the Granger girl interfered.
Then all her careful lesson planning went down the drain.
Clearly, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching these students had received previous to her tuition had been more of a joke -a damaging joke - than she had thought. These students were horrifically misled and deluded! Not one student seemed to be willing to accept her – and by extension, the Ministry's – standard of teaching. This would not do.
Despite the disruption, Dolores managed to almost successfully shut down any rise of protest at her newly-introduced methods and return to her quiet order of bookwork.
That was, until Potter took the stage.
"What good's a theory going to be in the real world?" The unruly, disobedient boy said loudly, his fist raised high in the air in both a statement of a question and a bit of defiance. Dolores felt her blood begin to boil just at the sound of complete utter disagreement and rebellion in his voice, and she struggled to keep her cool.
"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she answered carefully.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"
"There is nothing's waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh yeah?" His temper was rising, Dolores could tell he was close to losing it and she pushed her own anger down in anticipation. That's it, Mr. Potter. Lose it. Then we'll see whose all high and mighty.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Dolores asked slowly, putting as much honey as possible in her voice as she spoke the carefully-worded question.
That's it, boy. Take the bait. Say his name. It's the key to your downfall.
"Hmm, let's think…" Harry said in a mocking voice, his green eyes blazing with fire. "Maybe Lord Voldemort?"
The whole class gasped.
Dolores felt her fingers curl into fists as a small, satisfied expression crept into her features.
Got him.
"Detention, Mr. Potter." Dolores said triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock."
Detention, tomorrow evening at five.
Come, Mr. Potter.
And prepare to be broken.