Chapter 30: Inspection

September 9, 2002 – Monday

Gryffindor Common Room

Dawn let out a huge gasp as she read over Hermione's shoulder the headline on the Daily Prophet. She grabbed the paper from her sister and flattened it to reveal a large photograph of Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline:

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER

HIGH INQUISITOR

"'High Inquisitor'?" said Harry darkly, his half-eaten bit of toast slipping from his fingers. "What does that mean?"

"I think it means that the Ministry of Magic is passing laws to wrest control of Hogwarts away from Dumbledore," Dawn said.

"I think Dawn is right," Hermione said agreeing with her twin. "'In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She went on to read the article which included parents complaining to the ministry about Hogwarts moving in a direction they did not approve of. "The ministry has gone on record saying we the students and the parents have supported the changes the Ministry is making to Hogwarts."

"Oh my," Dawn said reading over Hermione's shoulder. "Their calling into question Dumbledore's choices of teachers. Including Hagrid…"

"Professor Lupin and Moody," Hermione said. "I think the only reason Buffy isn't on that list because of her undercover work spying on Umbridge." She looked up from the paper to her sister, Harry and Ron. "Well we knew that Buffy had been forced to have another co-professor this year and now we know why, because Fudge forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect other teachers!"

Dawn was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous…"

"I know it is," said Harry. He looked down at his right hand, clenched upon the tabletop, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced him to cut into his skin.

But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.

"What?" said Dawn, Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

"I kind of wish Buffy wasn't undercover for the same reason," Dawn said. "Buffy would not stand up to this stuff."

"No she wouldn't," Ron, Harry and Hermione agreed.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, jumping up, "we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late…"

Potions Classroom

But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions.

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in your examination."

Snape reached the front of the class and turned to face them.

"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get D's."

He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got D's? Ha!"

Dawn looked sideways to see what Harry had gotten but he slid his essay into his bag as quickly as possible. "That bad," she whispered as Harry reluctantly nodded.

Great Hall

"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the entrance hall toward lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly either, did it?"

Dawn kept her mouth shut in defense of Harry, but Hermione didn't seem to noticed as she pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to O.W.L. standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?"

Harry made a noncommittal noise in his throat.

"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they?" Hermione asked. "Something we can build on…"

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.

"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd gotten an O—"

"Hermione," said Dawn sharply. "Shut up."

Hermione looked at her sister with a raised eyebrow in surprise at Dawn's tone.

"Look if Ron and Harry wanted to tell you their grades or hear how you or I were doing they would ask," Dawn said.

"Dawn's right," Ron agreed.

"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked them as he and George sat down next to their brother.

"Not yet," Dawn said. "What about you guys?"

"Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."

"What was it like?" Dawn, Harry and Hermione asked together.

Fred shrugged. "Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it."

"I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down," said George, "he usually gets everyone through their exams all right."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry.

"Trelawney—" Harry answered. "—and Umbridge and Buffy."

"Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today," said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."

Defense of the Dark Arts Classroom

Umbridge and Buffy stood at the front of the classroom, exuding an air of authority as students trickled in. Umbridge, with her sickly sweet smile, hummed a tune under her breath, her demeanor belying the authoritarianism lurking beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron eagerly relayed the latest gossip from Divination to Dawn and Hermione, who had just come from Arithmancy. As they unpacked their textbooks on Defensive Magical Theory, Umbridge's cheerful demeanor masked the impending monotony of the lesson. Before Hermione or Dawn could even pose a question, Umbridge commanded attention with her sugary yet firm tone.

"Put away your wands," she instructed, her smile never faltering, though disappointment rippled through those who had optimistically retrieved theirs. "Since we concluded chapter one last lesson, turn to page nineteen and begin chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' No talking, please."

Seated at her desk, Umbridge's smile remained fixed, her satisfaction evident as she turned her attention to Buffy. The collective sigh of the class echoed as they obediently flipped to page nineteen, wondering if the textbook had enough chapters to endure the year's lessons. Dawn, observing Hermione's persistent curiosity, pondered the book's contents when her attention was drawn to Hermione's raised hand.

Umbridge and Buffy both noticed Hermione's gesture, and Umbridge, rather than ignoring it, devised a cunning strategy for handling such interruptions. Rising from her seat, she approached Hermione, bending down to whisper discreetly so as not to disrupt the class.

"What is it this time, Miss Summers?" she inquired, her voice a hushed yet controlled tone.

"Dawn and I have already read chapter two," Hermione responded confidently.

"Perhaps you should both proceed to chapter three then, 'Mione," Buffy suggested, her tone light but firm, subtly challenging Umbridge's authority.

"Buffy," Dawn interjected, her voice tinged with defiance as she caught the disapproving noise from Umbridge at her use of Buffy's name. She exchanged a knowing glance with her older sister. "'Mione and I have already read the entire book."

Umbridge blinked momentarily, caught off guard by their assertion, but swiftly regained her composure. "Well, then, one of you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named," Hermione replied without hesitation, her confidence unwavering.

"He contends that 'counterjinx' is merely a term people use to sugarcoat their jinxes, making them seem more palatable," Dawn chimed in, her voice echoing her sister's certainty.

Umbridge arched an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, though she quickly masked it. Buffy sensed the begrudging admiration in Umbridge's reaction, even if the woman tried to suppress it.

"But Dawn and I disagree," Hermione pressed on, her tone assertive.

Umbridge's icy demeanor intensified as her eyebrows ascended a fraction higher, her once benign gaze now piercingly cold. "You both disagree?" she inquired, her eyes darting between the twins, her tone laced with thinly veiled disapproval.

"Yes, we do," Dawn asserted, her voice cutting through the air with a clarity that contrasted sharply with Umbridge's hushed tones. Her words resonated throughout the classroom, drawing the curious attention of their classmates. "Mr. Slinkhard may not favor jinxes, but 'Mione and I believe in their potential for defensive use."

Umbridge's facade of calm cracked momentarily as she abandoned her whispering facade, straightening her posture with a steely resolve. "Oh, is that so?" she retorted, her voice devoid of its previous sugary veneer. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that holds weight within this classroom, Miss Summers."

Before Hermione and Dawn could interject, Umbridge cut them off with a decisive gesture. "That is enough," she declared, turning her attention to Buffy. "I expect you will handle your sisters accordingly."

"Of course," Buffy responded calmly, her tone carrying a hint of defiance. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Umbridge's eyebrows shot up in astonishment, clearly caught off guard by Buffy's decision to award house points to Hermione and Dawn. "What?"

"For completing their assigned work and expressing their genuine opinions," Buffy clarified, her voice unwavering. "While the textbook holds importance in this class, as students will be tested on its content, one cannot deny the significance of personal perspectives. After all, Hogwarts itself was founded on the beliefs and opinions of its founders—Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."

Umbridge hesitated, acknowledging the validity of Buffy's argument despite her reluctance. "You do raise a valid point," she conceded begrudgingly. "However our role here is to adhere to a Ministry-approved curriculum, which does not include soliciting uninformed opinions from students."

"As I mentioned," Buffy countered firmly, "in this class, the priority lies with the textbook, as that is what they will be tested on."

September 10, 2002 – Tuesday

Transfiguration Classroom

Dawn's whispered words carried a sense of admiration as they strolled down the corridor towards the Transfiguration classroom. "It was really something, seeing Buffy stand up to Umbridge like that, especially considering the delicate balance she had to maintain as a spy," she confided to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, her voice tinged with both respect and relief.

"Yeah, it was refreshing to witness someone," Ron began, his voice trailing off abruptly as his eyes fell upon Umbridge seated in a nearby corner. His expression shifted from casual conversation to quiet determination. "Excellent," he whispered, a hint of satisfaction in his tone as they settled into their usual seats. "Let's hope someone else has the courage to challenge Umbridge and see her get her just desserts."

Their hopes were soon met as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom, her authoritative presence commanding attention without a single acknowledgment of Umbridge's presence. "That will do," she announced firmly, instantly quelling any lingering chatter. "Mr. Finnigan, please come forward and distribute the homework—Miss Brown, kindly assist by distributing these boxes of mice—don't be afraid, they won't harm you—"

Umbridge's interruption, marked by her trademark "Hem, hem," echoed through the room, reminiscent of her earlier disruptions during Dumbledore's speeches. However, McGonagall remained unfazed, choosing to disregard Umbridge's attempts to interject.

Seamus Finnigan dutifully returned Dawn's essay, earning a grateful smile from her as she accepted it. Her smile widened upon realizing she had received an outstanding grade.

"Right then, everyone, listen closely—Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention—most of you have now successfully vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have the gist of the spell. Today we shall be—" Professor McGonagall's authoritative voice filled the classroom, commanding attention and respect.

But before she could continue, the familiar "Hem, hem" of Umbridge pierced the air, cutting through McGonagall's instructions like a sharp blade.

McGonagall turned, her expression steely, her eyebrows drawn together in a formidable line. "Yes?" she inquired, her tone cool and controlled, masking the fury simmering beneath the surface.

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—" Umbridge began, her interruption dripping with insincerity.

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," McGonagall retorted sharply, her dismissal of Umbridge's presence ringing clear. The satisfaction of the students was palpable, evident in the exchanged looks of glee that passed among them.

"As I was saying," McGonagall continued, her voice regaining its authoritative edge, "today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—"

Once again, Umbridge interjected with her irritating cough. McGonagall's patience wore thin, her fury bubbling to the surface as she turned to face Umbridge with icy resolve.

"I wonder," she began, her tone laced with cold fury, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking." Her words were a clear warning, a declaration of her unwavering authority in her own classroom.

Umbridge's expression shifted from surprise to indignation, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. Though she remained silent, her reaction spoke volumes as she straightened the parchment on her clipboard, the movement betraying her attempt to regain composure before hastily scribbling down notes, her hand moving across the parchment with frantic urgency.

In stark contrast, McGonagall exuded an air of serene confidence, unperturbed by Umbridge's discomfort as she seamlessly resumed her instruction. Her voice carried across the room, commanding attention as she delved into the complexities of the Vanishing Spell. With each word, she instilled in her students the importance of focus and dedication, emphasizing the challenges inherent in mastering such magic.

As McGonagall circulated the classroom, offering guidance and encouragement, Umbridge remained rooted to her spot in the corner, her eyes glued to her parchment as she continued to jot down copious notes. Though she did not actively engage with the lesson, her intense concentration was unmistakable, a testament to her determination to fulfill her duty as an inspector.

When McGonagall finally dismissed the class, Umbridge rose with a grim determination etched on her features, her resolve unyielding despite the evident discomfort caused by McGonagall's rebuke.

"Well, it's a start," Ron remarked, his voice tinged with amusement as he dangled a long, wriggling mouse tail before dropping it back into the box being passed around by Lavender.

As they filed out of the classroom, Dawn caught sight of Umbridge approaching McGonagall's desk. With a silent exchange of glances, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Dawn purposefully fell back, their curiosity piqued as they surreptitiously eavesdropped on the conversation unfolding before them.

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge inquired, her tone clipped and formal.

"Thirty-nine years this December," McGonagall responded brusquely, her demeanor unyielding as she snapped her bag shut, her gaze meeting Umbridge's with unwavering resolve.

Umbridge's quill scratched against the parchment as she made a final notation, her expression betraying a sense of satisfaction at the completion of her inspection. "Very well," she announced, her tone laced with an air of authority, "you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

"I can hardly wait," McGonagall retorted, her voice dripping with icy indifference as she turned on her heel and strode purposefully toward the door. With a dismissive wave of her hand, she ushered Dawn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione along with her. "Hurry up, you four," she commanded, her brisk pace leaving no room for argument.

As they made their way out of the classroom, Dawn couldn't help but offer a word of encouragement to McGonagall. "Good going," she whispered, her voice filled with admiration. "One thing I'll be glad to see is when Buffy no longer has to suck up to her."

McGonagall's lips curved into a small smile at Dawn's words, a silent acknowledgment of their shared sentiment.

Hagrid's Hut

As they made their way across the expansive lawns towards the forest where Care of Magical Creatures was to be held, the presence of Umbridge, with her ever-present clipboard, cast a shadow over the otherwise picturesque scene. She stood beside Professor Grubbly-Plank, her posture rigid and her gaze sharp as she awaited the arrival of the students.

"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Umbridge's inquiry cut through the crisp air, her tone betraying a hint of suspicion as she addressed the substitute teacher.

"Quite correct," Grubbly-Plank replied, her hands clasped behind her back as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, exuding an air of casual confidence. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."

Unease flickered across Dawn's face as she exchanged uneasy glances with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The prospect of Umbridge probing into Hagrid's absence was unsettling, especially considering Malfoy's presence nearby. She couldn't shake the feeling that he would relish the opportunity to report any perceived wrongdoing to the Ministry.

Umbridge leaned in, lowering her voice in a futile attempt at secrecy, though her words were still audible to Dawn and the others. "Hmm," she mused, her curiosity piqued, "I wonder— the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter— can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

Malfoy's eyes gleamed with anticipation, eager to glean any tidbit of information he could use to his advantage.

"I'm afraid I can't shed any light on that," Grubbly-Plank replied nonchalantly, brushing off Umbridge's probing with ease. "I don't know anything more than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, offering me a couple of weeks' teaching work, accepted—that's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?"

"Yes, please do," Umbridge responded briskly, her quill scratching across the parchment as she made notes on her clipboard. In this particular class, she adopted a different approach, wandering amongst the students, peppering them with questions about magical creatures. To her surprise, most of the students were able to provide satisfactory answers.

"Overall," Umbridge remarked upon returning to Grubbly-Plank's side after a thorough interrogation of Dean Thomas, "how do you, as a temporary member of staff—an objective outsider, I suppose you might say—how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"

Grubbly-Plank's response was hearty and affirmative. "Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent," she exclaimed. "No, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."

Umbridge's expression remained polite but subtly incredulous as she made a small note on her clipboard before continuing her line of questioning. "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year—assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"

Grubbly-Plank's response was prompt and confident. "Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in O.W.L.," she explained. "Not much left to do—they've studied unicorns and nifflers. I thought we'd cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, you know…"

Umbridge nodded, seemingly satisfied with Grubbly-Plank's plan. "Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," she remarked, making a conspicuous tick on her clipboard. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?" she questioned, directing her attention towards Goyle.

Goyle's foolish grin widened at the attention, but it was Malfoy who eagerly took the opportunity to respond. "That was me," he admitted proudly. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."

"A hippogriff?" Umbridge echoed, her quill now moving across her clipboard with increased urgency, capturing every detail.

Harry couldn't contain his frustration, his voice tinged with anger as he interjected, "Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do."

Dawn, Ron, and Hermione exchanged pained looks, knowing full well the consequences of Harry's outburst. Umbridge's gaze slowly turned towards him, her expression shifting from curiosity to thinly veiled displeasure.

"Detention, Mr. Potter," Umbridge uttered softly, her voice carrying a chilling edge. With that, she concluded her inspection, her attention turning back to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank," Umbridge declared, her tone saccharine yet dismissive. "I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," Grubbly-Plank responded cheerfully, eager to be rid of Umbridge's presence. With a curt nod, Umbridge turned on her heel and began her journey back across the lawn towards the castle, her clipboard clutched tightly in hand.

Buffy's Suite

The clock was nearing midnight as Harry finally emerged from Umbridge's oppressive office, the taste of bitterness lingering on his lips. His hand throbbed with pain, the blood seeping through the scarf he had hastily wound around it to staunch the bleeding. With a heavy heart and a heavy burden upon his shoulders, he muttered the password to the portrait guarding Buffy's suite.

"Hellmouth," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion and frustration. The portrait swung open, granting him access, and he stepped into the warm sanctuary of Buffy's room. Moving with cautious steps, he approached her bed and gently shook her awake from her slumber.

"Harry, it's late," Buffy murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. "What are you doing in my rooms?"

"I got detention again, Buffy," Harry confessed, his voice laden with weariness and pain. He held out his injured hand for her to see, the blood staining the fabric of his makeshift bandage.

Buffy's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and concern as she took in the extent of Harry's injury, her heart sinking at the sight of the blood staining his hand. Reacting swiftly, she sat up, her movements purposeful as she reached out to gently inspect the wound, her touch both gentle and firm as she assessed the damage.

"She's still using that cursed quill?" Buffy's voice crackled with indignation as Harry nodded in confirmation. The mere thought of Umbridge subjecting students to such cruel punishments ignited a fire within her, fueling her determination to put an end to it.

Without hesitation, Buffy rose from her bed and retrieved a small bowl filled with a golden-yellow liquid. "Here," she instructed, pushing the bowl towards Harry. "Soak your hand in that. Hermione gave it to me, and she said it should help."

Harry gratefully followed Buffy's instructions, lowering his injured hand into the soothing liquid. Almost immediately, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, the pain gradually subsiding as the potion worked its magic. "Thanks, Buffy," he murmured, his gratitude evident in his voice.

But Buffy's mind was already racing, her resolve hardened by Harry's suffering. "Harry, I think it's time I tell Dumbledore what she's doing," she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

"No," Harry interjected flatly, his expression firm as he met Buffy's gaze.

"Harry, think about this," she persisted, her voice tinged with urgency. "Torture is against Hogwarts rules. We can't let her get away with this."

But Harry remained steadfast. "Buffy, how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?" he reasoned. "She knows that we're close. After all, your sisters are two of my best friends. She likely knows we talk. How long do you think it would be before she puts two and two together and realizes you were the one I talked to? You don't want to jeopardize your mission just because I complained."

Buffy's jaw tightened with frustration, torn between her loyalty to her friends and her duty as a spy. It was a difficult choice, one that weighed heavily on her heart as she grappled with the consequences of her actions.