JohnnyZ
patreon
[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2024-11-07 23:23:44 +0000 UTCIn the morning, Marina Nikolaevna took her time heading to the hospital wing, telling Madam Pomfrey that she’d slipped on the stairs and gotten bruised. Pomfrey found nothing amiss, suggesting that Snape had done a decent job as a healer. After all, he’d mentioned that Letty had helped, and house-elves have their own special magic…
In the hall, students on their way to breakfast glanced at the massive hourglasses displaying house points…and froze, rubbing their eyes: Gryffindor’s hourglass was nearly empty.
"What on earth did you do this time?" Draco Malfoy asked Weasley with interest. "Last time, I remember, you were punished for a dragon…”
"If you had to know, they’d tell you," he replied grimly.
The four troublemakers huddled together, but while Longbottom tried not to lift his eyes and Weasley kept quiet with a scowl, Potter clearly thirsted for justice.
“Dolores…” McGonagall’s face showed a mix of confusion and indignation. "Can you explain how my house lost over two hundred points in one night?"
"If I may remind you," Snape interjected, "for certain individuals, that’s hardly difficult. You yourself once took a hundred and fifty points from them, didn’t you, Minerva?”
“Yes, but…that was an egregious breach of discipline and…”
"This was also an egregious case," Marina Nikolaevna replied calmly. "But I think it’s better discussed after breakfast. Or better yet—when the Headmaster returns."
"Your mail, madam," Filch interjected, handing her a few envelopes and a newspaper.
The hall was noisy with the arrival of the morning mail. Granger immediately buried herself in The Daily Prophet, read the headline, and gasped.
"Six Death Eaters captured and testifying, two killed…Harry!"
“I told you it was true!” Potter exclaimed, reaching for the newspaper. "Let me see…Is there anything about Padfoot?"
Granger didn’t get a chance to answer: a large owl swooped down and tossed a red envelope squarely at Potter’s forehead.
“Oh, you’d better run!” Weasley pleaded, with Longbottom echoing him, both knowing the signs of a howler that was moments from exploding.
Fortunately, Potter took their advice and dashed out of the hall, clutching the letter with both hands. It only helped a little—the sender had poured in so much emotion that even from the hall, everyone could hear furious shouting: “You bratty idiot! What were you told to do?! Sit quietly and study till your brains fell out of your ears! Our noble rescuer! Three Aurors died, grown, experienced men! Five more are in St. Mungo’s, and you, you little snot-gobblers, think you could’ve handled it?! And you dragged others with you, oh fearless leader! One more slip-up, and I don’t know what I’ll do with you! You’ll spend all summer locked up!”
“Who’s chewing him out like that?” Ingeborg asked, listening closely.
“A relative,” Marina Nikolaevna replied evasively, having just sent a message to Sirius Black, who, as Snape had suspected, had slept right through the fire-call. And his old house-elf had lied about it, which Black promised to get to the bottom of, even if he had to lop off Kreacher’s head with a dull knife and hang it in the hall, like Mrs. Black used to do.
“Frankly, that sender could have sent a howler with that exact same content to himself,” Snape commented, gazing at the ceiling.
“Think he’s finally started to understand?”
“Hope springs eternal…”
_____________________
The deliberation dragged on—or rather, it wouldn’t have, had it not been for the Headmaster, who returned just as breakfast was ending, spending an hour trying to understand and forgive Potter’s heroic impulse. He was clearly surprised that both the High Inquisitor and the Slytherin Head of House were united in their stance.
“No, the points cannot be returned,” Marina Nikolaevna insisted. “Because of this ‘minor’ incident, as you call it, I almost lost my life, that’s one. Two: you, Professor Dumbledore, were at the Ministry…you were, don’t deny it; the Minister wrote to me in the middle of the night. And I’d like to know, why did you go there?”
“I stayed late there, a lucky coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” he smiled, and Marina Nikolaevna bit her tongue just in time to avoid mentioning the map.
“Indeed, very fortunate,” she nodded. "Now, tell me, what were the chances of four teenagers holding out against adult Death Eaters? There were casualties on the Aurors' side—and they’re experienced fighters, not a ragtag group of underage kids!”
“Professor Umbridge, but they were driven by a noble cause,” Dumbledore began, but she raised her hand.
“Yes, I agree; they rushed to help. But they had no plan, no understanding of what awaited them at the Ministry... Very Gryffindor-like: they jumped up and charged forward without a second thought! Thinking even one step ahead? Why bother… And they attacked their own classmates, who were trying to stop and reason with them. Prefects! And this isn’t the first time, is it? Don’t you think this is a dangerous trend?”
“If I’m not mistaken, Miss Granger suggested seeking your help, Dolores,” Snape reminded her, “or, failing that, mine. But our heroes ignored this option. By the way, Minerva, why didn’t you listen to them?”
“Well, I thought it was just another of Mr. Potter’s recurring nightmares!” she said, adjusting her glasses nervously.
“One such ‘nightmare’ ended with Mr. Weasley being hospitalized,” Marina Nikolaevna reminded her. “And even if this time it was just a scary dream for Mr. Potter, wouldn’t it have been simple to listen to him and…khem…find out if the person he was so eager to help was actually there? Better safe than sorry, as they say…”
“Too bad we can’t dock points from Heads of House,” Snape remarked quietly.
“Your house would be perpetually in the red, then,” Marina Nikolaevna shot back.
“And why is that? My students don’t sneak out of school at night, nor do they topple teachers down stairs. And if someone comes to me for help, no matter the hour, I at least hear them out. Filius and Pomona, as far as I know, would do the same…”
Flitwick nodded, as did Sprout.
“Let’s stay on topic,” Marina Nikolaevna requested. “Ahem…the Minister writes that the school’s security will be increased. No, not Dementors—they can’t be trusted now. These will be experienced, vetted Aurors. Hogsmeade visits are canceled. For everyone.”
“Wait,” said McGonagall, “if Potter and his friends are punished, what do the others have to do with it?”
“Well, Minerva, anyone could easily enter Hogsmeade—any Death Eater in disguise with Polyjuice or an Invisibility Cloak, for example. Or they could kidnap a student on the way to school, where the anti-apparition barrier hasn’t started yet. Say, Miss Granger or Miss Chang, whom Mr. Potter cares about…and then Mr. Potter would receive a letter for added drama—with a lock of hair or a wand from the victim. And what do you think would happen next?”
“Potter would dash off to save them,” Sprout said confidently, “and fall right into the Death Eaters’ arms. This time they almost managed to lure him out; just a little more and that whole gang would have escaped…and then we’d have to save them!”
"Precisely. Therefore, Hogwarts is now on lockdown," concluded Marina Nikolaevna. "How you, Professor Dumbledore, intend to protect Potter during the holidays is not my concern, but while he’s here at Hogwarts, not a single mouse will sneak in or out!"
"Good, since our security measures are always top-notch," Sprout added sarcastically. "Last year, a Death Eater under Polyjuice taught here, and no one suspected a thing!"
"I would gladly institute truth checks for all teachers—under Veritaserum, of course," she smiled. "But I fear no one would agree. Too many skeletons in everyone’s closet, right?"
"For the record, I'm on board," Sprout immediately declared.
"As am I," McGonagall replied darkly.
"And I’ve got nothing to hide," Flitwick shrugged.
"But our dear headmaster seems strangely silent," Marina Nikolaevna smiled even wider. "But never mind; that idea’s more fantasy than reality—it’s practically impossible."
"Not necessarily, if a commission was responsible for the testing," Snape suddenly spoke up. "If they were authorized to ask only specific questions and a neutral observer ensured the process, why not? I, for example, have no wish to reveal how or when I first acquired sexual experience, but under Veritaserum, you can’t hide your real name or skills."
"Your first what?" Flitwick asked, not hearing, even cupping a hand to his ear.
‘Typical. He must have trolls in his ancestry,’ Marina Nikolaevna thought with amusement, but held her tongue.
"I ask that you inform your Houses about the contents of the new Educational Decree, at least in a condensed version," she said, "because they’re not likely to read the whole thing."
"Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore suddenly spoke, having remained silent till now, "about the Invisibility Cloak... I heard you took it from Harry Potter?"
"Yes, I confiscated it."
"Don’t you think it should be returned to him?"
"Why on earth would I?" Marina Nikolaevna asked, puzzled. "As far as I’m aware, Mr. Potter has been using it to flagrantly break school rules for years. The cloak was confiscated as a dangerous item and will be kept in the Department of Mysteries until Mr. Potter graduates. It’s already there, if you’re interested."
"But it’s an inheritance from his father," the headmaster said gently.
"Inheritance rights apply, if I’m not mistaken, only upon reaching adulthood?" she replied in the same honeyed tone. "Now, you’ll argue that Potter will turn seventeen just before seventh year, but, as I said, he’ll get the cloak only after his final exams. I can show you the Minister's decree."
"I suspect Fudge would sign anything you propose," Dumbledore said slowly, looking at her over his half-moon glasses.
"And has that worsened the situation in any way thus far?" Marina Nikolaevna retorted crisply. "The Minister needs reliable people in place, capable of relaying the real situation to him. As the Death Eater attack on the Ministry shows, the measures taken were timely but insufficient; otherwise, no one would have escaped! The Ministry won’t make such mistakes again." She paused, then added, "I propose we end this meeting and return to our duties."
The teachers left in silence.
Snape caught up to Marina Nikolaevna on the stairs and said quietly, "Don’t push too far. Our headmaster also... has an iron will."
"Have I strayed from the truth?"
"No. That’s what makes it dangerous. He has, shall we say, his own perspective on the truth and anything connected with it. And... one more thing," he looked aside, "forewarned is forearmed."
"What do you mean?"
"A certain student’s father, well-known to you... managed to slip out of the trap from the rearguard. He took quite a punishment for the failed mission, but it’s better than Azkaban. Thank you."
Marina Nikolaevna nodded silently. Losing "the infamous L.M." would indeed be regrettable: it would be a serious blow for his son, hurt sponsorship efforts, and upset the Minister... And Snape, it seemed, knew the Malfoy family well and cared about them in his own way...
"Severus, my next lesson is with Gryffindor. Can you help?" she asked, and he nodded.
_____________________________________
In the training hall, a dead silence reigned.
"I presume everyone’s already aware of your classmates’ exploits," Marina Nikolaevna said quietly. The tactic of "not telling anyone, but the whole castle will know within half an hour" worked flawlessly. "We won’t rehash it. Since I’m still recovering from a concussion and can’t conduct the training myself, today we’ll have a demonstration lesson. Clear the space. Mr. Potter, Weasley, Longbottom—come to the center. Where’s Miss Weasley? Ah, there you are... Join these three."
She’d pulled Ginny Weasley out of Divination—Ingebjorg didn’t object.
"So then," said Marina Nikolaevna, "you all made it to the Ministry and somehow managed to get into the Department of Mysteries. Wands ready; the Death Eaters are about to appear. Just six, there’s not much room here... Here’s the scenario: their goal is to capture Potter, not kill him. The attackers have training wands, as do you, but don’t forget about nonverbal spells and other skills... I trust you remember? Ready? Then begin!"
The doors swung open, and six tall figures in masks appeared at the entrance, immediately spreading out and attacking.
The four huddled back-to-back, bracing for defense.
The first red blot appeared on Longbottom’s robe, and his wand flew to the ceiling. Another quick move from an attacker, and Longbottom, paralyzed, stretched out on the floor.
Ginny Weasley suddenly released a swarm of bats, covering the faces of two attackers, and managed to splatter their robes with colored blotches. However, someone then tripped her and gave her a solid push—not with a spell, with a hand—sending her sprawling on the floor beside Longbottom. A control green blot appeared on her forehead.
Ron Weasley fought back fiercely and chaotically, but was quick enough to dodge most of the spells aimed at him. However, he was soon hobbled by a simple "jelly-legs jinx"—followed by a "kill shot" to the head.
Then Potter was suddenly hoisted into the air, upside down, his cloak falling over his head and blocking his view as his glasses fell off. All he could do was thrash and fire spells blindly, which his opponents easily deflected with shields. Then came disarming and immobilizing spells...
"And that’s that," said Marina Nikolaevna, as Potter lay sprawled across his defeated comrades. "Now, let’s assess... Slightly injured, also slightly injured... ah, not injured, just a torn sleeve. Four of them untouched. Now, our brave four. Longbottom—paralyzed, unfit for combat. Ginny Weasley—dead. Ron Weasley—dead. Potter—disarmed and captured by the enemy. This is roughly how your heroic raid would have ended..."
"But you said the wands were for training!" exclaimed Weasley as he was released from the spell.
"And my comments about nonverbal spells and other skills—you chose to ignore those?" she raised an eyebrow. "Or did no one notice? Miss Granger?"
"The opponents didn't say a single spell out loud!" she blurted out. "And... it looked like they were using magic without wands!"
"Exactly. Even students can learn to perform simple techniques this way... if they’re diligent in their training. As for ordinary nonverbal magic, during the fight in the Ministry, one of the Death Eaters had a Silencio spell cast on him, but that didn’t stop him from fighting ferociously," she recalled from the report. "He killed one Auror and seriously injured another. And neither the Death Eaters nor the Aurors shy away from using tricks like tripping, sweeping, and a good left hook—they’re trained in hand-to-hand combat, if you didn’t know. Keep that in mind in your spare time. For homework—an essay, in free form, on what you witnessed today and the incident at the Ministry."
She paused, not rushing to dismiss the students, then asked:
"Miss Granger, did you do what I asked?"
"Yes, ma'am, here it is..."
"Thank you," Marina Nikolaevna took several sheets from her, skimmed through them, and nodded. "Excellent. Let’s hand these out..."
"And what's this?" asked Longbottom cautiously, instantly hunching his shoulders.
"This is the schedule for your detentions until the end of the year," she explained. "You didn’t think you’d get away with just losing points, did you? That would be quite something... It took some effort to match your schedules with those of the teachers, so I asked Miss Granger to do it—she’s already experienced in this."
"But... but..." Weasley stammered, looking in horror at his paper, "there’s no free time at all!"
"What do you mean, Mister Weasley? Here it is, allotted for self-study," Marina Nikolaevna pointed out. "And yes, none of you have the same time slots."
"But when will we live?" he muttered, clutching his head.
"And what exactly is it that you’re doing that’s so worthwhile, Mister Weasley?" she narrowed her eyes. "Maybe helping your brothers with their inventions? No? Studying hard, spending hours in the library? Also no?"
There were chuckles.
"Well, then, a good study load does wonders for an excess of free time. And no moaning—it’s not excessive," Marina Nikolaevna added.
"So much Potions..." Longbottom mumbled, studying his schedule. "And Charms..."
"Yes, and in your place, I’d be very grateful that someone’s agreed to give you their time," she said sharply. "Oh, and... since Mr. Potter mentioned during career consultation that he wants to become an Auror, and Professor McGonagall clearly indicated which subjects he needs to improve, he’ll also focus on Potions—just not with Professor Snape."
"With whom, then? Do we have other Potions teachers?" asked Weasley, surprised.
"For starters, Madam Pomfrey is available," Marina Nikolaevna reminded him, "as well as some of the present Aurors, who, while not Master level in Potions, are still quite proficient. Besides, since entering Auror training requires other... qualities, Mr. Berkeley has kindly agreed to assign one or two of his fighters to work with anyone wanting to reach a suitable level. Some of them teach at their school, so they know the requirements."
"Ma’am," Finnegan raised his hand, glancing at Thomas, "can we train with the Aurors too? Without it interfering with everything else, of course!"
"Of course, Mister Finnegan. Do you want to join the Aurors?"
"Me? No, ma’am, but such skills never hurt!"
"Then—by all means, as long as you get permission from your Head of House. And as for Mr. Potter," Marina Nikolaevna turned her gaze back to him, "I believe Mr. Berkeley’s subordinates will quickly make him understand what duty, responsibility, discipline, respect for superiors, and the need to follow orders mean. And if Mr. Potter starts to feel they’re being too strict, he can always ask his godfather about how training in the Auror Corps works."
He remained silent, looking at the floor. Marina Nikolaevna mercifully refrained from mentioning that after this incident, the Auror path would likely be closed to him. Accidents happen, but behavior... Psychological tests exist for a reason—they typically weed out the overly impulsive at the entrance exams. Those trained in the Corps from childhood are taught self-control, but for most older recruits, it’s often too late.
"Ma’am," Ginny Weasley spoke up, "what about... Quidditch practice?"
"If you still have the energy to think about Quidditch after all your detentions and assignments, practice away," Marina Nikolaevna graciously allowed. "Or join the Aurors—they do... aerial acrobatics on brooms."
Ginny fell silent.
"Class dismissed, you’re free to go," said Marina Nikolaevna, and the bell rang at once.
She waited until the fifth-years and Ginny left, then turned to the "Death Eaters."
"Thank you for your help, seventh-years."
"It was terrific fun, ma’am," said a hulking Slytherin sincerely, pulling off his mask. "If you need help again, we’re always ready!"
"I’ll certainly keep you in mind," she smiled.
"We’re planning to ask for Auror training too," added another, cracking his knuckles. "Good thing to know..."
"I repeat, with your Head of House's permission—as much as you like. Now, you may go."
The last of them, the tallest, lingered at the door, then turned around and took off his mask as well.
"Severus, what childishness!" Marina Nikolaevna sighed heavily.
"Couldn't resist," Snape grinned wickedly, smoothing his tousled hair.
"You were the one who suspended Potter?"
"Yes," he replied with satisfaction. "I do love that little spell..."
"Do you remember how Slughorn used to say it?" Marina Nikolaevna smiled. “‘It’s such a fun little potion, with such interesting properties!’ Just like you now!"
"Like teacher, like student," Snape intoned.
"And what spell was it? I don’t know any like it."
"How would you know? I invented it back in my school days. Though by now, of course, it’s fairly well-known..."
"...in select circles?" Marina Nikolaevna finished. "I see. Will you teach me?"
"Certainly." He paused, then added with a mysterious smile, "Revenge may have been petty, but it was devilishly satisfying!"
