Rise of the Death Eaters [3]

Chapter 11: Competition

"Well," she continued, in thought, "I'll just have to make his life a living hell for the rest of the year."

"Merlin, that'll be a job. What would you do first?" Sam didn't even break her step as she responded with a ready plan.

"Jinx his pillow to repeatedly bite him in the neck at midnight."

"Not bad," I mused, making Sam smile.

Umbridge's classroom was already filled with students prepping when we entered, but something immediately felt off. Even with the number of students present, the room was oddly silent. That and of course the fact that Umbridge was sitting at her desk staring point blank at every single one of us with intense concentration. Those eyes of hers were pigging out of their sockets, reminding me familiarly of a toad. The frumpy pink sweater didn't help her much on that end, as it completely hid what little excuse of a neck she had.

I must have been starring too long, as those eyes locked on me, with a highly uncomfortable smile to match.

"Dear Merlin, does she not know anything about social etiquette?" I whispered, turning away from Umbridge and to Sam who had since started moving again, in search of a seat.

"If you're questioning it, probably not. Though why you'd care is a whole other question." Sam found two seats for us near the middle of the room and promptly sat down, stopping the conversation short. I joined her, looking up in time to catch Umbridge watching me still. I felt like she was dissecting me but I did not know how. Who knew a simple look could make you feel so self-conscious?

I spent the remainder of my time before class acting like a goodie two-shoes by prepping like the others around me. Wand and book on table, I began to scan the table of contents when I heard the faintest sound from the front.

"Hem-hem"

The entire class glanced up to the front to see our professor had risen from her desk and now stood in the center, near the blackboard which carried the following:

Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles

"Good Afternoon class!" She said in nearly the same high pitched voice as before. Too sweet to be real. Sickly sweet.

A few kids in the front muttered a few good afternoon's in response, nothing out of the ordinary. But to Umbridge, this response didn't seem to do.

"Tut, tut. That won't do, now will it?" She looked towards the back of the room where some Ravenclaws were busy showing off something they found funny in their textbooks.

"When I address the class, I should like to hear a proper response. In particular, Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge, would do rather well. Now if you please, Good Afternoon Class!"

"Good Afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the entire class resounded, including the boys in the back whose textbooks had magically slammed shut on their hands. I turned back to Umbridge in time to see her pocket her wand back into her hideously pink under garb.

"There, now," she cooed happily. "That wasn't too difficult, was it?"

She was met with silence that once again displeased her.

"Let's try that again, shall we? That wasn't too difficult, was it class?"

"No, Professor," the rest of us resounded like automatons. She gave a satisfactory nod before continuing.

"I have been given a job of upmost importance from the Ministry of Magic himself, to reeducate you in skills that your past instructors have unfortunately lacked."