Chapter 126: Evil Bitches Wear Pink
When we entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, we found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head, looking like a fluffy pink toad.
The class was quiet as it entered the room. We didn't know how to gage her yet. But something told me that I wouldn't like her.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said, when finally the whole class had sat down.
A few people mumbled "good afternoon" in reply.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge' . One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," we chanted back at her.
Yup. Didn't like her.
"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
Many of us exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. I did as she was told and Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:
Defence Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.
"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:
Course Aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.
"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room. I groaned. This was starting to get very old.
"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read 'Chapter One, Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk."
Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, watching us all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. I turned to page five of my copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.
I absent-mindedly turned my quill over and over in my fingers as I read the equivalent of watching paint dry. I had never read such boring nonsense in my life, and I had ready out of some pretty boring books. I looked over to Harry and he looked at if he had checked out. I looked over at Hermione, and she had not even opened her book, which shocked the hell out of me. Instead, she was staring at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.
I nudged Harry to get his attention, and pointed out Hermione. He looked just as shocked as I did, and started staring at her, as if to ask her what she was doing. She merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge.
After several more minutes had passed, however, we noticed that other people who had been almost bores to death started looking at Hermione too, wondering what the girl was doing.
When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.
"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.
"And your name is?"
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of forced sweetness.
"Well, I don't,' said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.
"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use magic?" I exclaimed loudly, not being able to hold back.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.-?"
"Weasley," I said, thrusting my hand into the air.
Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on me, the rude toad. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.
"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.
"No, but-"
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"
"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a-"
"Hand,Mr Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.
Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge turned away, ignoring him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.
"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling irritably, as if she had a stomachache she was trying to hide, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"No, but-"
Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed-not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean angrily, "he was the best we ever-"
"Hand,Mr Thomas! As I was saying-you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day-"
"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just-"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand, giving her the same look she used to give me when she was really pissed off. Professor Umbridge turned away from her.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you."
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads."
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" croaked Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge.
"Without ever practising them beforehand?" said Parvati skeptically. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.
Professor Umbridge looked up.
"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh, yeah?" said Harry, sounding as if he was going to blow his top at any minute.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" asked Professor Umbridge in a horribly sugar glazed voice.
"Hmm, let's think ..." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe ... Lord Voldemort?"
I was waiting for it, but still I gasped. Lavender uttered a little scream, and Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.
"Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"
"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"
"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr Potter!" said Professor Umbitch triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'. "
Professor Toadbitch sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.
"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.
"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
There was a collective intake of breath from the class. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly.
"It was murder," said Harry, his body trembling. "Voldemort killed him and you know it."
Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, I thought she was going to scream at him, or throw a hex at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."
He kicked his chair aside and walked up to the teacher's desk. He looked as if he was ready to blow at any moment. We all braced ourselves
Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling shit. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.
He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.
Umbitch smoothed out her robes and gave the class a fake smile. "Well, now that that unpleasantness is over, get back to the lesson. Everyone read."
I never thought I could hate anyone more than I hated Snape, but this woman had made the man look positively saintlike.