❛ASTERIA EDWARDS was your average, typical eleven-year-old child stuck in a pandemic with her mother Isabella Diggory until she found out where she truly came from.. and where she truly belonged...❜
[extended summary inside]
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harry potte...
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They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagall's office when she came marching along the corridor behind them. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her neck with shaking hands as she strode toward them, looking livid.
"In!" she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside onto the floor.
"Well?" she said. "I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two onto one! Explain yourselves!"
"Malfoy provoked us," said Harry stiffly.
"Provoked you?" shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist onto her desk so that her tartan biscuit tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. "He'd just lost, hadn't he, of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two—"
"He insulted my parents," snarled George. "And Harry's mother. And of course, had his thick-head goon send a Bludger towards Ria as well. Crabbe's not smart enough to do that on his own—"
"But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?" bellowed Professor McGonagall. "Have you any idea what you've—?"
"Hem, hem."
George and Harry both spun around. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and smiling in the horribly sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery.
"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice.
Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall's face. "Help?" she repeated in a constricted voice. "What do you mean, 'help'?"
Professor Umbridge moved forward into the office, still smiling her sickly smile. "Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."
Harry would not have been surprised if he saw sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils. "You thought wrong," she said, turning her back on Umbridge. "Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess. Your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detention! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever—"
"Hem, hem."
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face toward Professor Umbridge again. "Yes?"
"I think they deserve rather more than detentions," said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open. "But unfortunately," she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, "it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores."
