Lucinda Evans - still in progress

Chapter 18 - Umbridge and Snape

"Before we begin today's lesson," Professor Snape says, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at all of us in his classroom, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my displeasure."

It's obvious how his gaze lands upon Neville, who gulps.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape goes on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." This time his eyes clearly rest on Harry and his lip curls. Harry glares back, I know he'll be delighted if he would be able to give up Potions after this year. 

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Snape continues softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method are on the blackboard you will find everything you need in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half... Start."

Oh, this is already a more complex potion. The ingredients need to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it is simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient is added... I love this sort of potions. They are a real challenge.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," Professor Snape says, with ten minutes left to go. I'm already done and waiting for instructions to finish. I look around the room and see my brother, who is sweating profusely and looking desperately around. When he sees me looking at him, he gives me a pleading look for help. 

Out of his cauldron comes a copious amount of dark grey steam. Before I can even try to give him any advice Professor Snape goes looking at his cauldron with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Tell me, Potter, can you read?" Snapes voice brings my attention back to my brother. 

The Slytherins at the front of the class all look up eagerly; they love hearing Snape taunt Harry. Draco sees me looking disappointed at him, hoping it will make him stop, and just gives me an arrogant smile.

"Yes, I can."

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore,'" my brother reads out loud.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter? .... I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry speaks up this time, clearly angry. "I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco. Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," Snape instructs.

Well, that's rather unfair. We have to hand in a sample but Professor Snape made the content of his cauldron vanish before he could even get one. 

"Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

-----

"Well, good morning!"

A few people mumble a small"Good morning," in reply, though not a lot.

"Tut, tut," Professor Umbridgereponds. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good morning, class!"

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," most of us now say back to her.

"There, now," Professor Umbridge says in an overly sweet voice. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

"Wands away?" Ernie asks confused next to me. He's not the only one. Most people in the classroom exchange looks.

I've already read my copy of 'Defense Against the Dark Arts A Return to Basic Principles' and so I already know there is not one single spell to be found in the book.

"Your teaching on this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? 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 would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year."

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. 

The text appeared on the blackboard and I assume she wants us to copy it down, though nobody is moving their quills.

"Good," Professor Umbridge continues. "Now, I would like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk. I'm sure you all know how to read in quit."

I put my hand in the air, she seems like the teacher who doesn't like me just speaking up my mind without being pointed to.

"Yes, Miss Evans. What is it? I thought the assignment was perfectly understandable," Umbridge says with forced kindness.

"It is, professor, crystal clear. It's just I've already read the book already and I had a bit of a concern about its used methods."

Ernie looks at me with wide eyes but I do not take my glance of Umbridge.

"Well I don't see why your opinion would be important to the Ministry, but please do tell me what bothers you," now she no longer tries to pretend to be kind and sweet but has a clear look of irritation on her face.

"There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeats with a little laugh. "I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell." 

"I'm not saying I suspect to be attacked during class, but aren't we supposed to perform spells at our O.W.L. exam? I don't think a lot of people would pass if during your exam you need to perform a spell for the first time," I know it is stupid to even try to reason her, but if I don't try who will?

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Professor Umbridge says dismissively.

"That's insane!" Ernie cries out. Lot's of other students in the room react in the same way.

"You will raise your hand, Mr Macmillan," Umbridge now clearly furious. "Now all of you back to your reading. If I hear one single word, you can join me in detention."