Adventures of Harriet Potter

The Hogwarts High Inquisitor

They had expected to have to comb Hermione's Daily Prophet carefully next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline:

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM, DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"

"'High Inquisitor'?" said Harriet darkly, her half-eaten bit of toast slipping from her fingers. "What does that mean?" Hermione read aloud:
"In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 'The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve.' This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to effect improvements at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th Educational Decree Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. 'That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'Dumbledore couldn't find anyone, so the Minister put in Umbridge and of course, she's been an immediate success —'"
"She's been a WHAT?" said Harriet loudly. "Wait, there's more," said Hermione grimly.
"'— an immediate success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.' It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the passing of Educational Decree Twenty-three, which creates the new position of 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor.' 'This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the "falling standards" at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, and we are delighted to say that she has accepted.' The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts. 'I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.' Among those 'eccentric decisions' are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, and delusional ex-Auror 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts. 'I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step toward ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose confidence,' said a Ministry insider last night. Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts. 'Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,' said Madam Marchbanks. 'This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.' (For a full account of Madam Marchbanks' alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page 17.)"
Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two. "So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous . . . "
"I know it is," said Harriet. She looked down at her right hand, clenched upon the tabletop, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced her to cut into her skin. But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face. "What?" said Harriet and Hermione together, staring at him. "Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."
"Well, come on," said Hermione, jumping up, "we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late . . ." But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Harriet's moonstone essay was handed back to her with a large, spiky black D scrawled in an upper corner. "I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L.," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in your examination."
Snape reached the front of the class and turned to face them. "The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get D's." He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got D's? Ha!" Harriet realized that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade she had received; she slid his moonstone essay back into her bag as quickly as possible, feeling that she would rather keep that information private.
Determined not to give Snape an excuse to fail her this lesson, Harriet read and reread every line of the instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. Her Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione's but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville's, and she delivered a flask of it to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief. "Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the entrance hall toward lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly either, did it?"
When neither Ron nor Harriet answered, she pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to O.W.L. standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?" Harriet made a noncommittal noise in her throat. "Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on . . ." They sat down together at the Gryffindor table. "Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd gotten an O —" Hermione said at such a pace that Harriet wondered if she was even breathing. "Hermione," said Ron sharply, "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."
"I don't — I didn't mean — well, if you want to tell me —" she started. "I got a P," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?" Harriet felt ashamed she did worse than Ron. "Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harriet's right. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy P." George said heartily. "But," said Hermione, "doesn't P stand for . . ." Hermione started. "'Poor,' yeah," said Lee Jordan. "Still, better than D, isn't it? 'Dreadful'?"
Harriet felt her face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over her roll. When she emerged from this she was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about O.W.L. grades. "So top grade's O for 'Outstanding,'" she was saying, "and then there's A —" Harriet felt a surge of nausea and did her best to control it so she wouldn't tip off the others to something being wrong with her and ruin things for them. "No, E," George corrected her, "E for 'Exceeds Expectations.' And I've always thought Fred and I should've got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams." They all laughed except Hermione, who plowed on, "So after E, it's A for 'Acceptable,' and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"
"Yep," said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth, and swallowing it whole. "Then you get P for 'Poor'" — Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration — "and D for 'Dreadful.'" Harriet shifted in her seat, her face growing warm again. "And then T," George reminded him. "T?" asked Hermione, looking appalled. "Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?"
"'Troll,'" said George promptly. Harriet laughed again, though she was not sure whether or not George was joking. She imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that she had received T's in all her O.W.L.s — unlikely as that would be — and immediately resolved to work harder from now on. "You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked them. "No," said Hermione at once, "have you?" Piquing Harriet's curiosity, despite her mind wandering to her missing period, tender bubbies, and nausea that was persisting throughout the day for weeks now. "Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."
"What was it like?" Harriet and Hermione asked together.
Fred shrugged. "Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it." He made it sound like it was no big deal. "I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down," said George, "he usually gets everyone through their exams all right."
"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harriet. "Trelawney —" said Ron. "A T if ever I saw one —" George commented. "— and Umbridge herself." Harriet added. "Well, be a good girl and keep your temper with Umbridge today," said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices." But Ron did not have to wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts to meet Professor Umbridge. He was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Dean Thomas elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out *Dream Oracles*, look round.
"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?" Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag, and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.
Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses. "We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle." She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left toward Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.
Ron opened his copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly. She was making notes on her clipboard now. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. Ron bent his head hurriedly over his book. "Think of a dream, quick," he told Dean, "in case the old toad comes our way."
"I did it last time," Dean protested, "it's your turn, you tell me one." Obviously trying his best to work with two partners for the class period. "Oh, I dunno . . ." said Ron desperately, who could not remember dreaming anything at all over the last few days. "Let's say I dreamed I was . . . drowning Snape in my cauldron. Yeah, that'll do . . ." Dean chortled as he opened his Dream Oracle. "Okay, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject . . . would that be 'drowning' or 'cauldron' or 'Snape'?"
"It doesn't matter, pick any of them," said Ron, chancing a glance behind him. Professor Umbridge was now standing at Professor Trelawney's shoulder making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Neville about his dream diary. "What night did you dream this again?" Dean said, immersed in calculations. "I dunno, last night, whenever you like," Ron told him, trying to listen to what Umbridge was saying to Professor Trelawney. They were only a table away from him and Dean now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out.
"Now," said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?" Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, "Nearly sixteen years."
"Quite a period," said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?" As if she didn't already know. "That's right," said Professor Trelawney shortly. Professor Umbridge made another note. "And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?" Professor Umbridge said quizzically. "Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.
Another note on the clipboard. "But I think — correct me if I am mistaken — that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of second sight?"
"These things often skip — er — three generations," said Professor Trelawney. Professor Umbridge's toadlike smile widened. "Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" She looked up inquiringly, still smiling. Professor Trelawney had stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," said Professor Trelawney, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck. "I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly. Ron and Dean were not the only people watching and listening sneakily from behind their books now; most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking. "The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" she said in scandalized tones.
"I see," said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard. "I — but — but . . . wait!" said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. "I . . . I think I do see something . . . something that concerns you. . . . Why, I sense something . . . something dark . . . some grave peril . . ." Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised. "I am afraid . . . I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Professor Trelawney finished dramatically. There was a pause. Professor Umbridge's eyebrows were still raised.
"Right," she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "Well, if that's really the best you can do . . ." She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Dean caught Ron's eye and knew that Ron was thinking exactly the same as he was: They both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney's side — until she swooped down on them a few seconds later, that was.
"Well?" she said, snapping her long fingers under Ron's nose, uncharacteristically brisk. "Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please." And by the time she had interpreted Ron's dreams at the top of her voice (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death of his best mate), he was feeling much less sympathetic toward her. All the while, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first so that she was waiting for them all when they reached their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.
She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Ron told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, and Harriet, who had taken the free period to visit the hospital wing in discretion, exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione or Harriet could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell. "Wands away," she instructed them all smilingly, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."
Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Harriet wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep them reading through all this year's lessons and was on the point of checking the contents when she noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again. Professor Umbridge had noticed too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face-to-face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"
"I've already read chapter two," said Hermione. "Well then, proceed to chapter three." she whispered in an obviously irritated voice. "I've read that too. I've read the whole book." Hermione said. Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly. "Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen." she said, her expression full of disbelief. "He says that counterjinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. "He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows, and Harriet knew she was impressed against her will. "But I disagree," Hermione continued. Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder. "You disagree?" she said. "Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the rest of the class's attention. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."
"But —" Hermione began. "That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House." There was an outbreak of muttering at this. "What for?" said Harriet angrily. "Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to her. "For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"
"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harriet loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head." This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Harriet had ever heard. Then — "I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Ms. Potter," said Umbridge sleekly.