Playing with Fire

Chapter eleven - Professor Umbridge

The last class of the first day crept up on us like a shadow. Everyone entered the classroom with high expectations that afternoon, no one said a word as the door to Defence Against the Dark Arts class closed as the last student had entered to take their seat. I sat in the way back, with Harry next to me and Ron and Hermione in front of us. It came to my great surprise at Draco came over to sit right behind me with Blaise next to him – Slytherins usually sat as far away from Gryffindors as possible and considering mine and Draco's spat earlier – this couldn't end well.

"What does he want?" Harry mumbled in my ear as he as well had noticed Draco who currently was weighting his chair back with a smug grin on his face.

I shrugged. "No idea."

"Good afternoon!" said Professor Umbridge then.

A few people mumbled "good afternoon" back.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do it, now will it? I would like you to answer me "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time – Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class mimicked back, this time a lot louder.

"There we go," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too hard, now was it? Well then, wands away please and get your quills and feather pencils out."

A wave of grunts went through the class and I stirred in my seat. No wands? That didn't sound well at all. I turned to Harry, who gave me a grumpy grimace as he reached down to his bag.

As I pulled out parchment, quill and pencil from my backpack, I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

"Ace," whispered Draco. "Got another piece of parchment I can borrow?"

"Seriously?" I snapped.

He grinned. "I forgot."

Annoyed as I was I scrambled through my backpack to find another piece of parchment to slam on top of his desk. "Here."

"Thanks, Ace."

I rolled my eyes at him and turned forward to look at the blackboard where Professor Umbrdige now had written something in huge, pretty letters. Defence Against the Dark Arts, A Return to the Basic Principles.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "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."

I leaned my heavy head against my hand, trying to keep my concentration on the pink-dressed lady up front. Her pink cardigan screaming with that black bow-tie sitting on top of her head.

"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."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by three dots of course aims. I glanced through them, my brain trying to process the meaning of them, but the more I read them the less excited I felt. A bunch of gibberish about principles and theory – two things of which I hated.

"Ace," hissed Draco once more.

I grunted loudly – but not loud enough to be heard over the sound of pencils scribbling against parchment – and leaned back in my seat, tilting my head.