Getaway Car

Worse Turned Worst.

(Y/n) opened the door to her left and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were already waiting for her. Professor Flitwick tried to give her a smile, but (Y/n) could see the disappointment in his eyes. Professor McGonagall eyed (Y/n) sternly.
"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall asked, motioning for (Y/n) to take a seat. "Talking back to a— This is out of character for you, (Y/n)!" she said scolding, accepting the roll (Y/n) held out for her.

"Is it true you shouted and called her a liar?" Professor Flitwick asked at length. (Y/n) nodded.

"She walked herself right into that, Professors," (Y/n) said tearfully. Professor McGonagall's eyebrow rose as she read the parchment before signalling (Y/n) to explain. "She was being unrealistic with refusing to actually teach us defensive spells, and I asked her about it. She then told me we would not need defensive spells in the real world and I brought up my internship and gave her a series of jobs that would require defensive spells and— well, I'm not too proud of this one, but I brought up You-Know-Who." Professor McGonagall breathed out through her nose and Professor Flitwick squeaked. "And then when she told me He isn't back, I asked her if she was saying the Ministry was taking full responsibility for— for Cassius's death," she choked out. "And now I'm here without an answer of whether or not the Ministry was taking full responsibility!" she sobbed.

"Have a biscuit, dear," Professor McGonagall said, sliding a tray forward. "You really must be more careful," said Professor McGonagall sternly as (Y/n) nibbled on a biscuit, tears leaking freely down her face. "Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you your internship."

"What do you—?"

"Come now, (Y/n)," Professor McGonagall said impatiently. "You know where she is from, you know who she's reporting to."

"It says she's giving you detention every day for the next two weeks," said Professor Flitwick, who had read the note Professor McGonagall passed to her.

"Every day these next two weeks?" (Y/n) repeated. "But isn't there—"

"No. Too risky," said Professor McGonagall and the bell rang. "I'm sure you can handle a few hours out of your day to help clean this or that," she assured.

"Professor, you don't know Umbridge like I do!" (Y/n) cried. "She will rip me apart and put me back together only to do it again the next night."

"Torture is outdated, (Y/n). You will be fine, I promise," said Professor McGonagall. "But tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge, won't you?"

"But—"

"(Y/n), please," said Professor McGonagall, sounding desperate. "This isn't about bringing light to a situation, it's about keeping your head down and feelings under control!.. Have another biscuit."
(Y/n) took one, grudgingly murmuring her thanks.
"Come now, we have Transfiguration to get to..." Professor McGonagall told (Y/n).

(Y/n) had missed out on lunch and Chija had gone with her, for Chija had commented about rumours spreading like wildfire and advised (Y/n) to let said fire die out. Hermione had run into them during the second half of lunch and rushed to meet them.
"Did you really tell Umbridge off?" Hermione asked nervously. Chija nodded.

"You should have seen it, Hermione," Chija said. "She had Umbridge backed into a corner with the whole 'Are you blaming a fourteen-year-old or murder?' and also the 'Or perhaps you're telling us the Ministry of Magic is incapable of keeping one teenager safe?'"

"You should be careful, (Y/n)!" Hermione said. "With an attitude like that, you could lose your internship!"

"What, like that's a bad thing?" (Y/n) huffed. The end of lunch bell rang. "See you never again, Hermione... I won't have a single moment of free time these next two weeks!.. Chija, do you think you can talk Roger into hosting Quidditch tryouts on Saturday or Sunday?"