Chapter three – Dolores Jane Umbridge
\Chapter three – Dolores Jane Umbridge
Leighton wasn’t a morning person. Half-heartedly, he sat there and chewed his toast as the other Slytherins strolled into the grand hall and chatted. No one tried to talk to him. No one even looked at him. His half comatose state was the norm. That was until he got some liquid chocolate down his throat. He blinked momentarily satisfied when with a thunk, his Daily Prophet hit the bowl in front of him and splattered cornflakes and milk all around.
“Bloody bird!” he cursed and leaned away in disgust. With the flick of his wand most of the mess disappeared and the paper dried. The smallish brown owl sat in front of im watching him with yellow eyes, one leg stretched towards him. It was offering its leg with the small leather sack.
“You do a lousy job and I’m supposed to pay for it,” He grumbled. But in the end he got a handful of knuts, counted the right amount and dropped them into the pouch. “I hope you won’t come back.” He grumbled.
“Don’t be like that.” Eva said and gave the bird a bit of her breakfast bacon, which likely wasn’t very healthy for an owl. Or a human for that matter. The bird hooted and jumped up, wings wide and flapping. It joined the other owls and disappeared through the big doors.
“I’ll be however I like.” Leighton pulled the paper toward himself and opened it. It was the usual idiocy.
DUMBLEDORE GONE BONKERS - WILL THE NEW MINISTRY DEPUTY BE ENOUGH TO RETURN HOGWARTS TO ITS FORMER GLORY?
It was a lot of hippogriff shit about how the ministry was handling the situation. Not a word about a dark Lord. Leigh turned pages his eyes flying over the headlines and moving pictures. Someone had seen a troll close to a magic village. Perhaps that had something to do with the dark rising?
“Potter or Pillock? A study on the Potters. Is the last of them mad as well?” Leighton heard Malfoy read aloud his voice as loud as he could. Some were snickering. It was an article from the last page, likely because the title wasn’t anchored in any truth. The Potters, unlike the Blacks, weren’t known for any sort of craziness. Leighton rolled his eyes and threw his paper to the side.
“I should stop my subscription. There isn’t anything useful in there.”
“They got the sports column.” Arthur grabbed Leighton's Prophet from the table. “That one's always good.”
“Not what I meant- You know what. Doesn’t matter.”
He needed something sweet or he wouldn’t make through the day. With a very soft and weak ‘accio’ he called a plate with big thin pancakes to himself. He took a knife and smeared about half of it with strawberry jam and the other with white yogurt. Then he rolled it up and ate it while standing up.
“I’m off.” He told his friends while slinging the old leather bag over his shoulder. He found Professor Snape surrounded by first years who were getting their timetables. The man looked thoroughly uncomfortable. Tall and stiff he stood while the children surrounded him, like a tree about to be cut down.
“Mr. Fawley.” Snape called coolly, his voice showing none of his discomfort. “Your timetable. I am pleased to see that you will be joining my NEWT class.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Sir.” Leigh smiled politely. He was on a good note with Snape. He wasn’t an absolute favourite, but as he was decent with potions and never caused disturbances, Snape tolerated him. More than that, really.
“Your timetable, Mr. Fawley. I noted down the days I have time for extra preparations if you want to continue last years extracurricular.”
Leighton took the pergament roll. “I hope I can, Sir. I’ll see if there is enough time. I need to start early with the NEWT’s preparation.”
Snape nodded, seemingly uncaring whether Leighton came or not. The past year for extra credit and mostly because he wanted to brew some higher level potions, he’d been coming to Snape twice a week in the evening. He would help out with the brewing or preparing of ingredients. It had been alright, but he didn’t really need it for a ministry position. And it did take a lot of time that he needed to invest elsewhere.
“I will see you, Professor.” Leighton inclined his head and left. All the way through the hall he had to go and while passing he threw a glance at Potter. The boy sat with his friends and the Weasley Twins. Menaces as always those two were, gesturing around and talking. Potters brows were furrowed and he looked mad, staring his breakfast down.
He probably read the paper or something, Leigh mused. He wouldn’t be at his best emotionally if someone was slighting him like that.
It was a good school day. Especially with History of Magic as his first lesson. He might be able to get a bit of sleeping done on bad days. The ghost would just drawl on without any care and as monotone as person could speak. He was mostly there for attendance anyways. Anything Leigh needed was in the library to pass the NEWT’s on his own.
After that arithmancy, which gave him more homework than he could’ve imaged possible. Just on the first day he had to read a full chapter and write a three page summary.
Herbology that he was forced to take wasn’t any better. A plant snapped at his finger and ripped into his finger nail. Mrs. Sprout said it was perfectly harmless, but all his fingers had turned slightly blue at the tips.
The day turned from good, to worse to horrible when he entered the DADA classroom. Defence against the dark arts had always been a struggle with the ever-changing teachers. The room didn’t look bad. Boring maybe, with the empty stone walls. The desks were neatly arranged and in the front centre stood the teachers desk. Just to the left of it, a blackboard.
Umbridge was already there when he entered. She had a small china cup on her desk, likely filled with tea and sugar. Lots of sugar, Leighton thought. She seemed like the sort. He didn't enjoy that shared trait with the woman.
“Sit down. Sit down class.” She walked around the table as they each found themselves a seat. Leighton was in the front with Oretia next to him. Umbridge gave a small pinched smile and she strutted around in her petit pink high heels.
“Good afternoon young wizards and witches.” She pointed at them expectantly.
“Good afternoon.” It echoed in different volumes and speeds. It was chaotic at best and not very motivated.
“Well, well.” She moved her pointer finger to the side and pursed her lips. “I expect some respect. That’s no way to greet your teacher. I want to hear a choir. Try again. Good afternoon class.”
“Good afternoon Professor Umbridge.”
This time everyone said it clearly and at the same time. Some Gryffindors though made faces. Leighton could see it from the corner of his eyes.
“Wonderful. Though you.” She pointed her wand at Bryce Clerk, the Jerk. “What’s with the expression?”
“Nothing, Mam.” The Gryffindor said, suddenly a lot less brave with the attention on him.
“Name?”
“Clerk. Bryce Clerk I mean-”
“Mr. Clerk. I’ve just had an astounding and horrible lesson with some of your sort. And I am not in the mood to let things slide. One warning or you’ll get detention. Am I understood?” Her voice dripped with faux understanding, her eyes cold and the smile wide and sweet.
“-Yes.” Bryce swallowed. “Understood, Professor.”
“Well then.” Abruptly she turned around, walked past the few desks back to the front. “Wands away and quills out. You will need ink to write. Quick now.”
She flicked her very short wand. The blackboard spun around and revealed words. Neatly someone, likely she herself, had written:
Defence Against the Dark Arts A Return to Basic Principles.
“I’ve seen your OWL results. I’m surprised any of you passed. The answers were sloppy and the wand work-” She tuted. “Of course that’s none of your fault. What you needed and all you will need for your NEWT’s is the ministry approved curriculum. A for you designed study guide that will certainly get you through your school years. It’s purely theoretical and as safe as anything can be. You will approve of the carefully chosen for you literature and I hope we will be great friends from now on. Now let’s copy this please.”
Purely theoretical? So wands away was less of a one time thing than a promise for the rest of the year? That was worse than he’d feared.
The blackboard changed and n ew words appeared in the same neat handwriting.
Course aims: 1.Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2.Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3.Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
Everyone leaned over their desks and started to copy. Leighton copied the words and frowned. That sounded a like a recipe for slow and soon dead wizards. The time it’ll take someone to figure out if they could use magic was likely enough to get killed. He rather have the curse and imeprio throwing Moody back.
“Now- I hope everyone brought their books. To own a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard is essential for my course.”
No one said a word. They just got their books out.
“Alright.” Her high pitched voice got sharper. “How come not a single class today has managed to reply to a question. It should be universally known that when a teacher asks a question the class has to answer. Again. Does everybody have a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard ?”
“Yes, Mam.” Some called. “Yes Professor.” Did the others.
Umbridges hands were opening and closing while handing at her sides, like she was wringing some poor sods neck.
“I want to hear a ‘yes, Professor Umbridge’ or a ‘no, Professor Umbridge’. Again!”
“Yes, Professor Umbridge.”
“Perfect. I expect that now every time. Understood?”
“Yes, Professor Umbridge.” The class repeated in unison. It sounded sad and a lot like a preschool class.
“Now open the books. Read the first chapter. No magic or talking will be needed. I expect a silent class.”
Leighton stared at her in disbelieve. She sat down and made a gesture like ‘come on’. He hung his head, opened the book and began to read. It was tedious and so, so dry. Merlin help them. That Wilbert Slinkhard fellow had a way to write that even the most alert student would start to drift away.
‘Defensive magic is a very dangerous and hard to control art and should only be performed by experienced wizards. There is no need to engage in a fight. Defensive spells are not to be trifled with and pose a potential threat to the caster and other wizards.’
“Like we got a choice if we want to use defensive spells if we’re being attacked.” A girl muttered under her breath. She must’ve read the part he did. And as quiet as it was, Umbridge seemed to have the hearing of a Wendigo. She perked up instantly and zeroed in on the girl.
“What was that?” Her grading voice made everyone look up.
“Nothing, Mam.” The girl, Myra Stevens, whispered. She was a Gryffindor and not very remarkable. She was a studious person, though it didn’t give her good grades.
“No I heard you speak. If you have a question, I expect you to raise a hand. Did you have a question?”
“I-” The girl looked around like someone could help her. Then he bit her lip, her eyes going hard. “I was just said that we can’t very well chose when to use a defensive spell. If someone attacks you, you don’t have a choice. So thinking about whether it's appropriate or not like in the book isn’t possible.”
“What is your name?”
The girl sat a bit straighter. Her hands under the desk were shaking.
“Myra Stevens, Mam.”
“Well then, Miss Stevens. This wasn’t a question. To me it sounded a lot like you think that you know better than the ministry. After all this book has been approved by a committee and the minister. Do you think a sixteen year old girl knows better than the minister of magic?!” She had started out all sweet and clam, but in the end she almost barked the words. All bravery of the smallish Mara Stevens had evaporated instantly.
“Do you think your tiny, peanut-”
“Oi!” McLaggan, another Gryffindor intervened.
“Raise your hand.” Umbridge demanded.
McLaggans hand shot up. “You can’t talk to us like that. It’s against the rules. My father-”
“You need to raise your hand and wait Mr.”
“Cormac McLaggen.”
Umbridges eyebrows shot up. “I know your father. So you should know that the ministry takes your schooling very serious. I expect respect! The next one to talk will spend the next week in detention with me. Is that understood?” She hit the behind her with the school book. It echoed loudly.
Silence.
Umbridges whole face twitched.
“What did I say you do when I ask a question?”
A hand shot up. The girl next to Myra.
“Yes.”
“You said we aren’t supposed to speak, Mam.”
“You are if I tell you to!” Umbridges voice became even higher. “I changed my mind. Reading isn’t enough. I expect you to copy the entire chapter. Start writing now!”
For a moment everyone just stared at her. Then Umbridge lifted her wand and everyone moved to write down everything. This, Leighton decided, would be his least favourite subject.
“She can’t do that, can she?” Arthreus hands were shaking as they were walking the corridors down to the dungeons together. They were just far enough to that the toad couldn’t hear them anymore. “How do they expect us to pass our exams if we never did the spells before them?”
“And what about later?” Eva shook her small fists. “Even if the dark lord isn’t back, we could still get attacked. Someone might want to steal my money or an heirloom. Sometimes people just get drunk. How should we defend ourself against that? Defence is more than just something against the dark arts. How are we supposed to deal with that?!”
“The answer is quite easy.” Leighton put away his timetable and planner.
“It is?” Eva lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s obvious. We aren’t supposed to do any of that. If we’re stupid and unprotected mooncalfs we’re easy to handle and manipulate. That’s why we don’t have politics in this school. You can’t tell me knowing how the ministry works is any less magical education that muggle studies is. And if we can’t understand politics or defend ourself from the ministry we’re easy picking.”
“And my father said.” Oretia added. “That Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is building an Army in here. If we can’t protect ourself then we also can’t attack the ministry.”
“Oh bollocks.” Arthur threw in a few heavier curses afterwards. “Bloody imbeciles. I just want a halfway proper education. It’s not like we learn how to curse an Auror. We just want some basic shielding charms and what not.”
“This year would’ve been the Patronus.” Leighton added fuel to the discussion. “But that’s off the table now.”
“It was?” Arthur perked up and then sunk again. “She ruins everything. The feast, defence. What else will she ruin?”
A lot, Leigthon thought. She can ruin a lot ans till smile while doing it.
It was two days later when Leighton had the evening shift. As a prefect he had to walk the corridors. He wasn’t much about enforcing rules though. He would dock points and send them to their common room at most. He obviously didn’t dock any points for Slytherin, just to keep peace in the house. And detentions were only given when a teacher could see. He needed to hold that balance between himself and everyone else. It wasn’t easy at times.
It wasn’t quiet curfew yet when he stumbled upon Potter. The boy looked pale, paler than usual, and was clutching his arm.
“Potter.” He called and the boy stopped, looking at him with slit eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing bad. I just wanted to remind you to return to your common room. It’s getting late and Malfoy is doing his rounds tonight. So if you want to avoid that.”
Potters posture changed a bit and he looked less hostile.
“Thanks- Fawley?”
“Yeah. That’s me. We never spoke much, so I didn’t expect you know. Don’t worry.”
Potter looked at him. He could’ve just left, but he didn’t.
“On the train.” Potter was scrawny and a bit smaller than Leighton. But his gaze was piercing the older boy like Potter didn't need hight to have confidance. Perhaps he was just done with being scared. “Why did you ask?”
Leighton shrugged.
“You asked me if it was true and then just answered ‘alright’. Why?”
This was the branch. The moment Potter could decide that Leighton was worth keeping around. Exactly what the Slytherin needed.
“My family, strictly speaking, is gray. We’ve got a lot of light blood from the Prewetts and Bones but also some darker one.” He didn’t mention the Black connection. Not that Potter freaked about him being related to Sirius Black. “I don’t know much about what’s really happening. The dark ones, Malfoy, Goyle and Crabbe aren’t saying anything. Their families likely told them not to so that the government runs themselves into the ground. So all I have is you. And if this war is coming-”
“It is.” Potter bit out.
“-Then I need to decide what to do. I don’t know if you care or if Dumbledore cares but Slytherins don’t get to choose. Gryffindors don’t either. Everyone expects us Slytherins to be dark and you to be light. No one gives a shit about what Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff do. How are we supposed to unite when it’s like that?”
“We can’t unite because of your booldy supriority complex!”
“I don’t care about Halfbloods or- Muggleborns. I care about power that’s what makes the purebloods really important. Not their bloody circle trees. It’s the wealth and their position in the ministry.”
“It’s still a blood thing. Don’t tell me everyone is like that. That they don’t really care.” Potter spat out.
“Just look.” Leighton did his best not to burst. “The ones who do bad are always the same. It’s so very few. Most just don’t do anything. We get drowned out. And if there is no where to turn to all those who don’t even want to, will be taken by the dark lord. As soon as its public knowledge that he’s back, he will come for every single one of us. And he will force is to turn against the light.”
“And what am I supposed to do? I don’t make the decisions.”
“I know. Dumbledore does but it would be of help if you don’t let yourself get blinded. We aren’t all little Malfoys. We don’t all have big families, money and gamble with dark magic. We’re potential allies.”
“And I should believe that?” Potter shook his head. Then he pushed his glasses back. He flinched, the cuffs of his robes showing something red and bloody. “And then you’ll laugh when someone stabs me in the back.”
“Got it. No Slytherin is trustworthy.”
“It’s not- like that.” But it was. And Potter was right. No one trusts them.
“Then make deals. You trust people who have something to lose. And I tell you now Potter, even though I can’t ever speak this elsewhere. I do not want this war. I don’t want the dark lord to win. I’ve got nothing to gain from this war and everything to lose.”
They locked eyes. Potters green eyes clear and still angry. The boy was boiling himself from the inside.
“Alright. I gotta go.” Potter turned and left.
“Oy, Potter.” Leighton called after him. The boy stopped.
“Dittany salve helps with the wounds. You can owl order them from an apothecary. Or if it has to be quick. We have Hellebore leaves in the greenhouses. It helps to soothe.”
Potter nodded without turning and disappeared around the corner. Leighton wasn’t sure if any of this had done him any good.