The Destruction

Lies, Books, and Behavior (Umbridge)

After the first few classes, some sweet little first years, defiant sixth years, and dedicated seventh years, I looked at my schedule. Oh, great. Fifth years.

Quite possibly one of the worst years to teach. For the next forty five minutes, I was going to be dealing with overreactive, emotional, and impulsive Gryffindor and slytherin fifteen year olds. Even 'better' those transfer students would be in this class, and I'd heard they could get quite... Physical if provoked. No matter, I had my ways of dealing with troublesome students.

I looked at their faces as they walked in. A few stood out in my mind. A pale, blond boy overshadowed by his two hulking friends, a boy with what looks like nails in his face wearing a slytherin tie but talking to a blue (?!) haired Gryffindor girl at least a foot shorter than him, and of course, Harry Potter, scar, messy black hair and all.

As they all settled into their seats, I noticed all the students pulled their wands out of their bags. They obviously didn't know how things were done in my classroom.

I stood up, and cleared my throat."Well, good afternoon!" I beamed down at the class.

Disappointingly, only a few students mumbled "good afternoon." Back.

"Tut, tut." I said. "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." They all repeated back in either bored or forced cheery voices. This might be difficult.

Nonetheless, I smiled. "There, now, that wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

The class on the whole gave me dirty looks, as they rustled around in their bags, looking for quills. I pulled my own wand out of my handbag, and tapped the blackboard next to me, and words appeared at once.

Defence Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles.

"Well now, your learning in this subject is a little fragmented, isn't it?" I turned around, and clasped my hands neatly in front of me. "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 should 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."

I tapped the board again, so it now said

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

I watched as they all copied down the aims onto pieces of parchment for a few minutes.

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" A dull murmur of assent rippled through the room. "I think we'll try again." I said. "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."

"Good." I said, and smiled again. "I should like you to turn to page 5 and read chapter one. Basics for beginners."

As a whole, the class turned pulled out their books and started reading. I had just sat down, when four girls (one with extremely long, unnaturally red hair, one with shorter blonde hair with a small ponytail on the side of her head, a much smaller one with long dark blue hair and the one with the blue hair, wearing a yellow headband) stood up, and hurled the copies of their books at me.