𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗲𝘀, harry potter

sixty two

62 || suspicions

Monday mornings proved to always to the worst days for the students at Hogwarts, there was a lot less enthusiasm and energy in the air. But Adelaide found this particular Monday a lot worse than usual.

— BY ORDER OF —
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.
An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.
Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).
No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.
Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.
Signed:
HIGH INQUISITOR
Delores Umbridge

"Great," Adrian muttered, retreating back to the sofas, "Now I have to go ask Umbitch to re-form the quidditch team."

Adelaide raised an eyebrow at him, "You really think she'd say no? She loves us Slytherins. Prejudiced bitch."

"But still, I have to go into her office. Her ugly, pink, office," Adrian groaned, "Please, come with me."

"Fine, meet me after lessons," Adelaide said, "Tell the others I've gone down to breakfast." At the first sight of a ginger and two brunettes, Adelaide fastened her steps, not breaking into a run though.

"You seen it?" Adelaide asked, scaring the three, "You think she knows?"

"She probably has her suspicions, but no one's told her so she only has that to go off," Hermione said, "Can you check for us though? Make sure we aren't compromised already."

"I was already on the case," Adelaide smiled, "I'll let you know when I find out. Bye guys." Harry didn't miss the way that her eyes lingered on him. Was this the year that she would finally reciprocate his feelings? Or would someone come along again to ruin his chances?

By second period, Adelaide was done. She stood next to Draco as he boasted to others about literally anything he could think of.

"Yeah, Umbridge will give the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, Pucey and Black are going to ask her first thing this
evening. I mean, it's a given isn't it, she knows our families from the ministry. . . . It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, wont it?"

Adelaide rolled her eyes, "Shut up Draco, you're being a dick."

"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more and ignoring Adelaide, his gray eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron's direction, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance. . . . From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. . . . And as for Potter . . . My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. . . . apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic. . . ."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter, Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee. While Adelaide shook her head with a distraught look, she couldn't believe she had once called these people her friends.