Dolores Umbridge is only a fractional example of the stress under which today's educators work. This work of fanfiction is based on the true events that happened to my teacher friends. As I listened to their stories, I wondered how the staff at Hogwarts would handle such situations.

Not only do I not own the world of Harry Potter, but I also changed the story line to suit me. This little satire is dedicated to all my teacher friends.

Educational Decrees Ad Nauseum

CHAPTER 4 - "If I Only Had a BRAIN"

December 1995

The staff of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat around the staff room table like restless, caged animals. They were on-edge, frustrated, and angry. Even Headmaster Dumbledore, usually a bastion of calm, was fidgeting in his chair, making it squeak.

It was now twenty after six. The ticking of Flitwick's newest pocket watch kept time with their growing irritability. The sound seemed to grow louder and louder as they waited. Severus, with an instinctive urge to annoy, kept up a rhythmic counterpoint by tapping his long fingers on the tabletop.

Minerva clenched her jaw and laid her hand atop his to stifle its movement. It was a motherly gesture, and the look he returned was one of sullen adolescence. But the humor of the situation relieved their overwrought nerves.

Somewhat.

"P'fessor Dumbledor, sir," Hagrid asked from his place at the end of the table, "Wha' are we doing jus' sittin' here? I thought P'fessor Umbridge called this meeting -"

" - for six in the evening," growled Hooch.

" - the day before a Hogsmeade weekend," added Bathsheda Babbling sourly.

"Our only weekend off in a month," muttered Aurora Sinistra.

"And just why are we here?" Irma Pince asked. "Poppy and I teach no classes."

"Which is not to say," stated the Mediwitch firmly, "that we don't have plenty of work that needs doing instead of sitting here and –"

"Well, what about the rest of us?" Sprout asked. "We have work to do, too."

"Even ghosts," Binns added, raising his voice above a monotone for the first time in two decades, "who have eternity stretched before us, have better things on which to spend our time."

"She has every one of us sitting here at her beck and call as if our time is less important than hers," Irma Pince pointed out waspishly, "including you, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore frowned. "True," he conceded. "And I've been informed that as High Inquisitor, she outranks me. So, I'd suggest we humor her for the time being."

"She's after your job, Albus!" Minerva remarked.

"And should she achieve her goal and take it, Minerva, I can assure you that she'll give it back," Dumbledore replied genially. "It's a nightmare at times."

"Ahem," Dolores Umbridge coughed delicately, as she entered the staff room on a cloud of cloying perfume. Her heels clacked on the stone floor as she flounced her way to the center of the table with all the charm and grace of a pregnant hippo. Hovering behind her like an ominous cloud of doom were stacks of glittering green books, on the cover of which was a shiny, gelatinous mass resembling a human brain.

With an arrogant swish of her wand, Professor Trelawney and Irma Pince were unceremoniously swept apart, giving her enough room to plop down in a hastily summoned pink, tufted, winged-back chair. "Thank you all so much for taking the time to meet with me," Umbridge simpered as she wedged herself into the chair.

Umbridge cleared her throat and ducked her chin, gathering herself to start again. Then she raised her eyes coyly at them. "First, let me say that the Ministry would like to thank everyone for all of your hard work. However –"

"Oh, Merlin, here it comes," Pomona Sprout murmured. She lay her head down on the table.

"However," Umbridge reiterated, "after reviewing last year's O. W. L. and N. E. W. T. scores, the Ministry feels that there is room for improvement."

Vector, elbows on the table, muttered darkly into her clasped hands and hung her head. Dumbledore frowned deeply and began his fidget-squeaking again. A muted stream of foul language seemed to come from Hooch's direction. Minerva lifted her hand from Severus', and he began tapping on the table again.

"There must be some mistake," answered Flitwick. "For more years than I can remember Hogwarts scores have ranked us as the best in Europe, if not the world." He frowned at Umbridge. "How does one improve on first place?"

"It only seems that we are number one," Umbridge smiled at him. Her pearly white teeth gleamed red with the reflection of the setting sun as it shone through the staff room window, making a bloody smear on her face. "The Ministry has identified several key areas in need of improvement. Cornelius and I feel that the school needs to concentrate on the overall low N. E. W. T. scores."

"Cornelius?" muttered Binns, awareness dawning. He chuckled and nodded knowingly.

"Low N. E. W. T. scores? Impossible," Flitwick stated persistently. He frowned and paused to push his spectacles up. "I distinctly remember our scores. I've run the statistics myself every year for the past forty-five years. Our scores always outrank the rest of the magical schools in Europe." His face was beginning to turn pink.

"You don't understand," she told him sweetly. The condescension in her tone fairly oozed onto the table.

"He might not understand," Binns continued a little louder, "but I am certainly beginning to."

Ignoring the History of Magic professor, Umbridge twisted to face Flitwick with a plastic smile. "Oh, I know the numbers look as if our scores are in the lead, but, actually, in terms of authentic, 'real world' scenarios, we are not closing the achievement gap."

"Wha'?" Hagrid asked in confusion. He squinted across the table to Dumbledore. "Wha'd she say?"

"Nothing, Rubeus," the Headmaster responded blithely.

Flitwick began again. His pink face had deepened to a rosy red. "I must strenuously disagree," he avowed. "Our scores indicate that -"

"Filius," Poppy Pomfrey said softly, "please calm down." She patted his arm. "Don't get your blood pressure worked up over - "

Binns blurted out, "-over this young hussy!" He pointed a spectral finger at Dolores Umbridge. "You, missy, are just some Ministry toad trying to become the next Mrs. Cornelius Fudge."

Smirks, snorts, and giggles went round the room. Severus began lightly whistling the children's song "Froggy Went A-Courting."

Dolores Umbridge's face darkened with anger. "Well," she cried, "I never!"

"Nor is she ever likely to with that face," Rolanda Hooch remarked.

"How cruel!" Sybil Trelawney castigated Rolanda gently. "What can she do? She can't help that she looks like a toad."

"She could stay home," Severus suggested quietly.

"Well, if you haven't," Cuthbert Binns retorted, "it's not been for lack of trying." He rose until he hovered over that table, looking down on her. "Might I remind you that I deal in history and facts? I remember quite well when you were a student, missy, and what monkeyshines you got up to!"

Eyes popping and neck veins bulging, Dolores reared back as if she'd been hit. "How," she stammered, "how dare you!" She clasped her hands to her breast. "Dumbledore, is this how you allow your staff to behave? This, this level of disrespect and unprofessionalism is –"

"Unprofessionalism!" Binns shrieked. Rising even higher above the table, Binns slowly approached Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I am unwilling to tolerate this lack of trust, respect, and utter contempt the current administration has shown us educators. I refuse to bow to its corrupt authority. I hereby resign. Good day." Binns vanished in a luminous, ghostly vapor.

Umbridge stared at the staff table and laid both hands flat against it. She sat like that for a moment. Then, with the suddenness of an attacking shark, her head surged up, and she grinned with fake cheerfulness at everyone. "To continue," she chirped, "there is a distinct cognitive disequilibrium between the magical schools in Europe."

"Among," Aurora Sinistra suggested just loudly enough to be heard.

"Of course, there is," Snape agreed crossly. "There is a colossal disparity among the institutions of supernatural learning. Hogwarts far exceeds her mediocre counterparts."

Dolores paused, uncertain of what Aurora Sinistra meant, and she certainly didn't wish to argue with Snape. She shook her head and plowed on. "Data-driven improvements is what we must seek with a laser-like focus based on experiential based learning processes."

"Are," again Aurora suggested.

Hagrid shook his head, and his mighty beard wagged back and forth. "I don' know wha' it is yore sayin', but if there's a problem, I'm willin' ta help."

"You say there's an achievement gap," Burbage chimed in, "but we don't agree."

Umbridge pinched her lips together angrily. "The Ministry says there is an achievement gap. Are you deliberately trying to sabotage the data-driven plans for our school? Are you attempting to derail the synergistic and social constructivist designs the Ministry has formed after exhaustively collecting and collating the expert data from around Europe?"

Irma Pince, startled at the venom coming from Umbridge, leapt to her friend's defense. "I'm sure Charity meant no disrespect. She's just tired. It's been a long day. It's been a long week. It's been a long month."

"If Ministry officials have collected and collated the data from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, they can see that our scores have beaten both schools for the last forty-five years," argued a still mutinous Flitwick. A blue vein in his forehead stood out against his mauve face.

"You aren't authorized to adequately determine that fact," Umbridge shot back with a supercilious sniff.

"Numbers don't lie," Flitwick returned angrily. Angry red splotches shot up his neck. "Back me up on this, Septima!"

"He's right," Septima Vector said gently. "For the last fifteen years, as long as I've been teaching, I've worked with Filius on school statistics. Every year, I double check his figures, and he's always spot on. Our scores far exceed the other magical schools in Europe particularly in the areas of Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology, and Astronomy."

"The Ministry has determined that this is simply not true," Dolores argued vehemently, her voice growing louder. She banged on the table with a chunky fist. "You'll just have to accept the fact that the Ministry doesn't make mistakes!"

"John Wooden," said Filius succinctly, "said 'If you're not making mistakes, then you're not doing anything.' "

Dolores smiled at him and gave a little chuckle. "Oh, what a delightful, little Quilp," she said. "You see before you a perfect example. Filius Flitwick can truly admit that he's wrong."

Flitwick's eyes narrowed, like two red, hot embers. "What did you just call me?" he demanded with dark, deadly calm. An eerie quiet settled in the room.

Umbridge stared in confusion at the Charms professor. "Why, Filius, I didn't call you anything." She shook her head. "I just pointed out that you were a gentleman capable of admitting his own mistakes." She huffed a sigh of irritation, as if Flitwick's confusion and anger were just another heavy burden that she must unfairly bear.

Vector continued the fight. "No, what he meant was that the Ministry's assertion that our scores are poor is entirely wrong."

"That's what the scores look like on the surface," Umbridge shouted, "but an in-depth study across cognitive and affective domains show differently. However, let me remind you, in no uncertain terms, that I have been appointed High Inquisitor by the Ministry, and my decisions stand." She paused, huffing for breath, her cheeks pink. "Now, I'll show you all the data if you insist, but it will only prolong this meeting, and if you want to retain your jobs, you'll simply have to get with the pogrom."

"Program," Sinistra murmured.

"No, she might just be accurate this time," Snape declared. "Pogrom indeed."

Silence followed his statement. Slowly, as if she were approaching a dangerous animal, school Matron, Poppy Pomfrey, stood and held out her hands. "Dolores, it's very close to dinner." She smiled, seeking to diffuse the situation. "I'm sure everyone's sugar levels are low. Perhaps if we took a short break for - "

"What a marvelous idea, Poppy!" Sprout beamed her approval.

"Thought I was hearin' a stomach or two a-grumbling," Hagrid added. "Mine is."

Immediately, the group rose and herded themselves towards the door en masse. Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough.

Umbridge's face twitched like a rabbit on cocaine. "That won't be necessary," she said once she had reined in her anger. "Heffy!" she called out, summoning the house elf that had drawn the short straw and been assigned to her, "Please have the kitchen elves bring our evening meal here to the staff room. Muggles call it a 'working lunch,' or so I'm told. Tee Hee!" She patted her pudgy hands together in child-like glee. "Do sit back down."

A general mumbling was heard as the group lumbered its way back around the table. A few voices could be heard above the general grumbling.

"Don't you dare say another word, Filius," hissed Pomona Sprout as she ushered the grumbling Charms professor back to his seat.

"She's got diarrhea of the mouth, I tell you," Burbage whispered.

"With constipation of the brain," Irma muttered darkly in reply.

Only Dumbledore remained at the door. "You'll have to excuse me," he told them. "It seems there is an immediate staff opening that needs to be filled, and there are the children. They shouldn't be left too long with only Filch to watch them. Is there anything anyone needs before I leave? Anyone?"

Severus, seemingly out of touch with the rest of the group, began to sing softly as the elves went about quietly setting up dinner at the staff room table. "It was sad when that great ship went down / Sad when that great ship went down." He broke off and began humming.

"Why, Severus," Septima Vector remarked, "what a lovely baritone you have."

Aurora Sinistra leaned towards her best friend and whispered, "Septima, what was that it all about? I can't believe Snape was singing!"

"It's an old Muggle song about the Titanic," Vector murmured quietly. "The Titanic, Hogwarts. Both seem to be sinking."

"And rats always desert a sinking ship," Minerva muttered. Her eyes were locked with Dumbledore's.

Umbridge had caught part of Minerva's comment, but she was totally confused. "Rats? What have rats to do with this meeting, Minerva?" Umbridge demanded.

"Not a thing," snapped the Deputy Headmistress. "Do they, Albus?" Her icy, green eyes held the Headmaster's in an unflinching gaze.

Dumbledore froze in the doorway. Unlike the High Inquisitor, he knew exactly what Severus was singing about. After all, he had just turned thirty-one when the Titanic sunk. As for Minerva, he knew he was sure to catch hell later for leaving them alone with Umbridge. Quickly, he left the room.

Poppy sighed. "Dolores, can we just get on with the meeting?"

"Aye," Hagrid boomed, "if we're ta close this cognatoe gap, we'd best be doin' it before those cognatoes all escape, yeah?"

"True, true," intoned Trelawney solemnly. She leaned forward, and her beads dragged through her mash. "The cognitive world opens into the meta-cognitive; ergo summa, the physical views through the metaphysical."

Charity Burbage lowered her face and nudged Irma Pince. The two of them began to giggle at Sybil's antics.

"So, Dolores," McGonagall demanded briskly, "what exactly does the Ministry want us to do now?"

"I'm so glad you asked. Because our new curriculum is designed around brain-based learning, we will need to study how students learn best," Umbridge answered with genuine delight.

"Cerebrum, cerebellum, medulla," Trelawney began counting on her fingers. "Serotonin, Serengeti, spaghetti…"

"Good old Sybbie," Burbage whispered to Pince. "She's puts on such a good ditzy act."

Pince began coughing to hide her laughter, and it took several sips of her pumpkin juice to calm down.

"And with what other organ would you advocate students learn?" drawled Snape. "That is, assuming they have brains in the first place?"

"I seem to recall that some youngsters," Professor Babbling answered crisply, "respond better to butt-based learning." She sniffed and arched an eyebrow at Sprout. "A good paddling has stood a few of them a great deal better than detention at times."

"Too true, P'fessor, too true." Hagrid laughed, a great booming sound. "I 'member one time when me and Caractacus Potts - "

"No, no, you don't understand," Umbridge said emphatically. She was beginning to quiver with sullen anger again.

"All right, Dolores," Rolanda Hooch stated bluntly. "Calm down; there's no need to get your knickers in a twist."

"I beg your pardon!" Dolores gasped in outrage. "My knickers are not a topic for public conversation!"

"Dolores' knickers?" exclaimed Hagrid. "Wha' in Merlin's name?"

"I may vomit," Snape intoned solemnly. He shoved his plate away.

Her feminine delicacies offended, Umbridge complained, "Everyone is just refusing to understand. What I am proposing is vital to the Ministry."

Poppy said slowly and carefully, as if she were speaking with a hostile mental patient. "Why don't you start again, then?"

With a decisive sniff, she started over. "As I was saying, in order to enhance the learning of our students and keep ourselves abreast of the newest and best practices in the field of teaching, we must develop B. R. A. I. N. based learning. This stands for 'Brain-based, Research And Instructional Needs-to-Know.' Here is your book. The Ministry has, at great expense, purchase one for each of you."

"So, they've money for this garbage, but not for basic school supplies?" Septima Vector muttered to Aurora. "Like those Muggle torches?"

Slowly the stack of books floated around the table until each one hovered menacingly in front of every staff member. One by one the faculty reluctantly reached for the book.

"Why, thank you, Dolores," Irma Pince declared brightly. "The library will benefit –" She broke off as she looked at the bright yellow book. "Oh, my." She winced at the sight of the Frankenstein-ish green and purple brain on the cover.

"Oh, no, we don't want the children to read this. It's far too important for them," asserted Umbridge in a scandalous tone. "Now, if you're all finished eating?"

"It seems my appetite vanished," Aurora pronounced with annoyance as the gelatinous brain wriggled and jiggled at her from the front cover of the book.

"Yes, we're done," Sprout announced with disgust. "Who could eat looking that . . . that . . . that thing on the cover?"

"Meself, I could do wit' another bit o' -" Hagrid began to say.

"Now, Rubeus, I'm sure the elves can bring you something later if you're still hungry after the meeting, hmm?" Poppy suggested. "Let's just get on with this."

"Can we get back to the meeting? Please?" Umbridge might have stated it as a question, but her strident tones left no doubt that this was a demand. She clapped her hands imperiously and, having summoned the house elves, required them to remove their repast.

"Ah, Gray Matter - What Does It Matter by Curriculous Snodbury," announced Severus. "Imagine that."

"That's right, Professor Snape. This book, Gray Matter - What Does It Matter, was written by a most impotent wizard," she gushed loudly.

Aurora Sinistra burst out with a delicate laugh. "I'm sorry," she lied. "I'm sure I misunderstood. I thought you said the book was written by an insolent wizard." She winked at Snape, knowing her fellow Slytherin would pick up on her subtle mockery.

Severus, poker face in place, merely raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Indeed, I must have misheard as well. I thought she said that the author was an imbecilic wizard."

"She said impotent," Hooch announced. "Dolores would know, and I'm sure she wouldn't lie about that."

Umbridge knew they were ridiculing her, but she wasn't exactly sure why or how. She stared at them for a long moment, her lips pinched together in anger. "Unless you wish to find yourselves without a job come morning, we will continue with this meeting," she informed them imperiously. "That is if you are all quite finished with - "

"I see," Sybil suddenly exclaimed, interrupting Umbridge. There was a glazed look in her eye as she shouted, "I see a vision!" She stood, hands wavering at something only she could perceive. "There!" she shrieked. "In the distant - no, the past - no, the future - the near future! Yes, I see, I see, I see an empty castle, broken and forlorn, upon a hill." She froze in that position, both hands outstretched, clawing into the air for something that wasn't there.

Pince quickly opened her book and hid her laughing face behind its pages.

"Get her out of here!" Dolores yelled, her face a deep magenta. "She is causing an erruption to the learning process!"

Sinistra winked at Snape as she mouthed the word "disruption." Snape gave her a silent smirk in return while Flitwick rolled his eyes.

"I'll take care of her," Charity offered gently. "Irma can take notes for us." Burbage stood and gently took Trelawney by the arm. "Come along, Sybbie. That's good, dear. Here, don't forget the nice book the witch gave you."

Dolores Umbridge snorted with ill-disguised impatience. She narrowed her piggy little eyes and cast a look of pure, unadulterated hatred at the rest of the staff. "The first one of you," she growled deep in her throat like a tractor in low gear, "who interrupts me again will be summarily dismissed."

Several minutes passed in utter silence.

"Now," she said brightly in her best girlish voice, "just like your pupils, you will have an assignment."

This pronouncement brought a series of grumbles, but she ignored them and continued blithely on. "Before our next meeting, you are to read through this entire book and find one instructional strategy that you believe we, as a cohesive teaching community, can utilize to enhance the learning of our students. At that meeting, you will share your findings with your colleagues." She paused, daring anyone to say a word. "The strategies in this book are well researched and based on magical, medical evidence, so it should make for an enjoyable read."

Without another word, Umbridge stood up from her chair and bustled from the room like a rhino in heat, slamming the door behind her.

McGonagall sighed heavily. She faced the rest of her coworkers at the table. "It looks like we have to do this or get sacked. Suggestions?"

"Poison?"

"Severus!"

"Although I'm inclined to agree with Severus at this point," Filius admitted, "I think it's time we worked smarter, not harder. I've noticed that this book has exactly twelve chapters, and there are twelve of us. If we read one chapter each, we'll be done with this blasted book with none the wiser."

"Then we'll only have to find and present one strategy from our chapter," Aurora Sinistra cried. "Great thinking, Filius."

This chapter's title comes from the Scarecrow in the movie The Wizard of Oz.