ACT THREE, loss
CHAPTER EIGHT, professor umbridge
The enchanted ceiling above Iris's head was a miserable, rain cloud grey when she ate breakfast the next morning.
With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hermes didn't come swooping down but Iris wasn't surprised. It had hardly been a day since she left and the only people writing to her would be Calypso and Sirius.
Snape moved down the table to hand out schedules and Iris plucked hers out of his hand, ignoring his beady gaze. She took a look at it and groaned when she saw Snape, Professor Trelawney, and Professor Umbridge's names. Double Defense Against the Dark Arts and double Potions stuck out likie a sore thumb to her. Arithmancy and Transfiguration wouldn't be too bad since she was especially good at that and
"This is the worse schedule I've ever seen!" Pansy screeched.
"We have O.W.L.'s this year." Daphne gasped like she had just remembered. "I completely forgot!"
Iris groaned because, for a moment, she had to. In June, the fifth year's would have to take the Ordinary Wizarding Level exam. Iris was determined to pass all of her's with flying colors this year which meant devoting more time to subjects she didn't necessarily care enough about to focus all of her attention in (Herbology).
"Speaking of O.W.L.'s and things that are happening during fifth year," Pansy said casting a side glance over at Iris. "any idea what you're going to do after Hogwarts? Remember we get career advice at the end of the year."
Iris pursed her lips. Life after Hogwarts always seemed so far away to her that she had never given much serious thought to what career she wanted to pursue. She knew that when she did set her mind to something that she'd do whatever it takes to achieve it, but until then she was at a loss. The only job that ever seemed vaguely appealing to her was being an Unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries. Growing up, she'd seen Cordelia work for them and figured it'd be something that she'd quite possibly like. Or becoming a potioneer since she was secretly very good at Potions.
Iris shrugged in response to Pansy. "I don't know."
"I think I want to become an actress. Could you imagine?" Pansy asked excitedly.
"Sure." Iris nodded her head.
Pansy chatted away all throughout Arithmancy and up until they made their way to Snape's dungeon for Potions. Iris wasn't in the mood to deal with Snape today, or anyone for that matter, so she kept her head down. It was one of those days where she felt less talkative than normal which was quite unfortunate because Pansy seemed to never stop talking. Tracey Davis was there to entertain Pansy and Iris was thankful the girl was distracted until Snape walked into the classroom.
"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.
"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "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."
His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went 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 good-bye."
His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Iris glanced over at Harry to find him matching Snape's glare. He knew not to look over at Iris since he suspected he'd still be seeing her in his N.E.W.T. Potions class since she was one of his best students, and that was unfortunate for the both of them.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape 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." Iris placed her chin in the palm of her hand as she began to listen to Snape. "The ingredients and method"— Snape flicked his wand — "are on the blackboard" — (they appeared there) — "you will find everything you need" — he flicked his wand again — "in the store cupboard" — (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) — "you have an hour and a half. . . . Start."
"I'm guessing I'll be doing all the work." Iris said to Pansy and Tracey.
"Would you?" Pansy asked excitedly before resuming her conversation with Tracy right where she left off. Iris sighed and glanced over at Theo. She missed having him as a partner in Potions, at least he'd help her.
The potion was difficult for some but Iris found it was much easier than she originally thought. The ingredients had 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 was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.
"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.
Harry glanced around the dungeon to see the state of the potions of those around him. He looked over at Iris and saw her looking quite bored since she had already finished the potion with ease. Snape swept through the room and took a look at her potion. He turned to Pansy.
"Good job, Pansy." He said. Iris bristled and her ice cold glare stared between the two of them when Pansy brightened up.
"Thank you, Professor!" She said as though she hadn't been talking the entire time. Iris gripped the edge of the table in anger when Snape shot her a triumphant look, knowing she had done all the work while Pansy received all the praise before moving to Harry.
"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"
The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry. Iris glanced over at them, still angry that Pansy had taken credit for something she did.
"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.
"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"
Draco Malfoy laughed.
"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.
"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.' "
"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"
"No," said Harry very quietly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore. . . ."
"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."
The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.
"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," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and itsuses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."
While everyone around him filled their flagons, Iris packed away her things angrily. Pansy tried talking to her when Iris rushed out of the dungeon and went in the direction of the Great Hall.
"Why are you giving me the cold shoulder?" Pansy pouted when Iris sat down in her usual spot and started eating her lunch. Oliver sent her a curious look, noting the anger on her face, but didn't say much.
"Are you daft?" Iris snapped. Pansy flinched at Iris's tone. "You took credit for my work back there!"
"Who cares Iris? It's just potions." Pansy said. Iris glared at the girl, seething with rage. It was easy for Pansy to say when she hadn't done any of the work. That potion was hard to make. Half the class had messed up and hadn't done it correctly but she had done it perfectly all by herself. There hadn't been a single mistake and all of her hardwork went to Pansy because Snape didn't like Iris and Pansy hadn't even corrected him.
"Whatever." She stood up and left the Great Hall abruptly.
Students hurried towards lunch while she walked in the opposite direction. Harry, who had also left lunch because Ron and Hermione were bickering again, spotted Iris rushing up the stairs.
"Iris!" He called out her name. She turned around and waited patiently for him to catch up to her. It was the first time they had an opportunity to speak to one another since they parted ways for the welcome feast. "Why aren't you in lunch?"
"Why aren't you?" She retorted.
"Fair." Harry said. Iris glanced at him when he started following her up the stairs.
"It's stupid." She said hesitantly. Harry looked at her, surprised that she was beginning to tell him what was bothering her. He could sense the hesitation in her voice and on her face.
"You can tell me. No matter how stupid it is." Harry reassured her.
"Well," Iris started. "it's just that Snape gave Pansy credit for a potion I did. I know some might not think I should be as mad as I am, but it's just irritating that even after all these years he still has some sort of unnecessary vendetta against me. A part of me thought that with him being in the Order and everything that he'd be a little more fair."
"That's what I was telling Hermione and Ron." Harry said. He didn't know where Iris was heading off to but he continued to try and keep up with her nevertheless. "I think he's just a bully."
"His treatment towards me pales in comparison to how he treats you. He really hates you." Iris said. Harry sighed miserably.
"I know."
They passed the large picture of Sir Cadogan the knight on a landing; Sir Cadogan drew his sword and brandished it fiercely at Harry, whoignored him.
"Come back, you scurvy dog, stand fast and fight!" yelled Sir Cadogan in a muffled voice from behind his visor, but the two of them merely walked on, and when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighboring picture, he was rebuffed by its inhabitant, a large and angry-looking wolfhound.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked finally.
"This is the spot I go to whenever Pansy or Draco's annoying me and I want some peace. I haven't been much lately but it's still a pretty good place." Iris said. She took him to the spot underneath the trapdoor at the top of the North Tower. They talked a bit while they sat there. Mainly about school and the classes they were taking. Harry asked her about her O.W.L.'s like Pansy had and what career she was thinking of. "Maybe working in the Department of Mysteries or a potioneer. Haven't really decided on a career yet."
"I think being an Auror would be interesting." Harry agreed. Iris nodded her head in agreement.
"I was thinking about becoming an Unspeakable." She confessed. She hadn't told anyone about that, not even Oliver. "Maybe I'd study time in the Time Chamber. Oh, or death in the Death Chamber. I don't think I'd want to study love or thought."
"What's an Unspeakable?" Harry asked.
"They work in the Department of Mysteries. No one knows much about what they do, it's all very secretive. They're forbidden from discussing it or telling any information about it... Cordelia's one." Iris said looking down at her hands.
"I think that job'd be perfect for you." Harry said. Iris smirked. They talked for a bit more about Ron and Hermione's non-stop arguing until the bell rang. He, also, told her that Seamus Finnigan distrusted Harry and had gotten into an argument with him last night because his mother told Seamus not to trust anything Harry said. They ended up being the first to Divination, another class Iris dreaded.
Professor Trewlawney was busy putting copies of battered, leather-bound books on each of thespindly little tables with which her room was littered when Harry and Iris entered the room, but so dim was the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire that she appeared not to notice them. Iris took a seat in the dimly lit back and waited for Pansy to join her.
"I'm sorry." Pansy said exasperatedly. Iris looked at her with a straight face as the girl sat down beside her. "I should've told Snape it wasn't mind. I promise I will next time."
Iris knew she was lying but decided to get over it anyway.
"But, you should really be nicer to me since I'm basically your only friend now that Theo doesn't want to be around you anymore." Pansy said bluntly. Iris leaned forward in her seat at Pansy's words.
"I reckon it's the other way around." Iris said.
"What?" Pansy sputtered. "I have Milicent, Tracey, Daphne, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle."
"But, how many of them genuinely like you?" Iris snapped back to Pansy with a small, venemous smile. Pansy narrowed her eyes at Iris.
"Do you even geniunely like me?"
"At times." Iris mumbled. Pansy smirked. Whenever she and Iris got into a fight that was typically how it ended. They had an odd friendship and it'd been like that since they first met during first year but Pansy enjoyed Iris's company. She was the only one that ever said exactly what she thought of Pansy to her face instead of talking about her behind her back.
"Good day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamyvoice, "And welcome back to Divination. I have,of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely — as, of course, I knew you would.
"You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so . . ."
Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid mattersas examinations.
"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. UseThe Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carryon."
The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation.
"What do you dream about? Hexing children?" Pansy asked jokingly. Iris rolled her eyes.
"Actually, I had a dream about snakes last night. I was standing in a room full of them. What do you reckon that means?"
"Hmm," Pansy flipped through The Dream Oracle. "says snakes indicate something significant happening in the unconscious."
"What does that even mean?" Iris deadpanned.
"It says it could be either positive or negative. Toxic thoughts, fear, worries, running away from something or transformation, regeneration, growth, or rebirth. Any of those feeling sound familiar to you? Running away from something?" Pansy asked.
"No." Iris said.
They moved on to interpret Pansy's falling dream. It was very dull work and Iris was less than impressed when Professor Trelawney set them the taskof keeping a dream diary for a month as homework.
Iris trudged to Defense Against the Dark Arts extremely slowly, even less excited to meet Professor Umbridge for the first time than she had been for Potions and Divination. Two years had passed and she still didn't think she'd get a better DADA teacher than Remus.
"This should be fun." Pansy commented outside the classroom.
When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head.
The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the whole class had sat down.
A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply. Iris wasn't one of them.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.
"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away"had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Iris looked at her wand with a sigh before putting it away. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:
Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to 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.
"You will be pleased to know, however, 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. Copy down the following, please."
She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:
Course aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magiccan legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she said, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.
"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.
"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."
Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchytoad's eyes. Iris turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.
She hadn't ever been so bored in a class before, especially not in Defense. Not even when Professor Quirrell or Lockhart taught the class and she hadn't even liked them much. She found herself wishing she could be back in Divination instead of having to sit through this awful lesson.
Iris, so bored and tired of reading, decided to turn her gaze to Hermione whose hand had been in the air for a few minutes as she tried to catch the attention of their teacher. Other students who were in a similar situation as Iris turned and watched Hermione as well instead of reading.
When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" sheasked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.
"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.
"And your name is — ?"
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voiceof determined sweetness.
"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard. Iris tilted her head in confusion.
"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a littlelaugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
Iris's jaw nearly dropped. Was she serious?
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class,Mr. — ?"
"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.
Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Iris slowly raised her hand into the air. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment beforeshe addressed Iris.
"Yes, Miss...?"
"Rosier." Iris said. Umbridge's eyebrows raised into the air, familiar with the name. "Isn't the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to learn defensive spells?"
Students murmured in agreement.
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Rosier?"asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.
"No —"
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"
Iris's eyes twitched when Umbridge interrupted her and talked down at her.
"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a —"
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge. The Slytherins in the class smirked at the shrill sound of Umbridge's voice.
Harry thrust his fist in the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him again, but now several other people had their hands up too.
"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr. Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —"
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"No, but —"
Professor Umbridge talked over him.
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Iris angrily. One thing she absolutely would not stand for was for this lady to speak about Remus in that way. "he was the best we ever —"
"Hand, Ms. Rosier! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"
"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just —"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean Thomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"
"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," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.
"Without ever practicing them before? Are you mad?" Iris asked incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"
"Ms. Rosier!" Umbridge snapped at hearing Iris's voice once more. A small, mischevious smile played on Iris's lips at the woman's reddening face. "I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.
Professor Umbridge looked up.
"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."
"Oh yeah?" said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think . . ." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, "maybe Lord Voldemort?"
Iris tensed when Harry fell into Umbridge's trap. She had a feeling she had been baiting him to mention Voldemort and Iris suspected her suspicion was correct.
Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Even Pansy's eyes widened. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression onher face.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.
"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."
Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubbyfingered hands splayed on her desk.
"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —"
"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"
"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Pagefive, 'Basics for Beginners.' "
"This is complete rubbish." Iris scoffed. Professor Umbridge, along with the rest of the class, turned to look at the expression on Iris's face and what she had to say. "Your cannot be so delusional as to think—"
"Ms. Rosier," Professor Umbridge said in a pinched tone. "would you like to join Mr. Potter for detention tomorrow? If not, I suggest you read your book."
Iris pursed her lips and debated the option. Getting detention with Harry would mean getting to spend time snooping around and finding out more about what Umbridge was really about. She didn't sense anything good coming from this woman's position at Hogwarts and she suspected detention would be as good a time as any to go detective. Thus, her choice was made.
"You're an idiot." Iris said. Some of the class laughed at the expression of disbelief on Umbridge's face.
"Detention, Ms. Rosier. Same time as Mr. Potter."
Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.
"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.
"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.
There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Iris, Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night that Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly.
"It was murder," said Harry. Iris could see him visibly shaking. He had hardly talked to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."
Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank.
For a moment Iris thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."
He kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath.Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him. He took it from her without saying a word and left the room, not even looking back at Iris, Ron, and Hermione, and slamming the classroom door shut behind him.