𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖒 [h. potter]

VIII

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VII: THE MEETING

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Pippa felt a weird, twisting feeling in her gut as she walked into Muggle Studies that Monday, an odd mix of dread and fascination, caused by the sight of none other than Professor Umbridge standing in the corner of the classroom. She was intently watching students shuffle into class, occasionally scribbling a note down on her clipboard as if they were some rats whose behavior was being observed. Professor Burbage looked notably uncomfortable with the other woman's presence. She was tense behind her desk, flipping through parchment paper as if reviewing her lesson plan for the day, which, upon thinking about it, Pippa suspected she was doing. Professor Burbage was also a more go-with-the-flow kind of teacher; her lessons strung along, loosely connected, and conversation flowed easily, with interjections and questions encouraged during lecture. And that teaching method seemed to work. At the very least for Pippa, it offered her a breath of fresh air before she was stifled with Defense Against the Dark Arts. But not today. It didn't take a legilimens to know that Umbridge would sooner pitch herself off the Astronomy Tower than praise such a teaching method as Burbage's. And Professor Burbage was an intelligent woman; the class would definitely conform more to Umbridge's standards.

The students seemed to understand that too. Usually, the classroom was filled with miscellaneous conversations for the first five minutes of the period. Today, however, all conversations died the minute the participants stepped through the door and into the lion's den. Or rather, the sheep pen in which the lion laid in wait.

"Hello class!" Professor Burbage clapped her hands together and stood from her desk once everyone was situated. The class chorused back the obligatory "Good afternoon, Professor Burbage," albeit much more readily than when Umbridge prompted them to do the same for her class. Umbridge scratched a note on her board. "Well, today, we'll be discussing the influenza outbreak of the early 20th century. Who here has heard of that?"

Pippa raised her hand, alongside a sparse number of her classmates scattered about the room. Of course Pippa had heard all about the Spanish Flu. It was the spiel her mother gave her and her siblings every flu season whenever one child complained about getting their flu shot (the culprit was typically Emmeline, she was a big baby when it came to needles). So, under any other circumstances, Pippa would half pay attention, haphazardly jotting down some notes here and there. But today, Umbridge was evaluating Professor Burbage, a professor whom Pippa actually rather liked, and Pippa didn't want to give the toad any reason to speak ill of her. Therefore, she paid attention like all the information being spewed out was novel to her.

About halfway through the lecture, about when Professor Burbage began discussing how Muggles had combated the disease, Pippa felt eyes boring into her back. Namely, two little, beady black eyes. Pippa turned and made eye contact with Umbridge quickly. Pippa cocked her head, challenging the woman whilst maintaining her gaze. Umbridge's eyes flitted away and looked at the board. Pippa turned around and smiled in victory.