Book: Courage
Chapter 65
Word Count: 8147
Layla was first to wake up in her dormitory next morning. She lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap in her four-poster's hangings, and savoured the thought that it was Saturday. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on for ever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson.
Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. She pulled open the curtains around his bed, got up and started to dress.
Layla spent most of her morning in her dorm, catching up on homework and writing letters to Sirius and Remus, but after lunch, she headed down to the Quidditch pitch for practice.
All her teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered.
"All right, LayLay?" said George.
"Yeah," said Layla, heading off to get changed.
"OK, everyone," said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. "Let's gel to it; Katie and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?"
Something in her would-be casual voice made Layla think he might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when they left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch, it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Slytherin Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium.
"What's that Weasley's riding?" Draco called in his sneering drawl. "Why would anyone put a flying charm on a mouldy old log like that?"
Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter.
"Ignore them," Layla he said, kicking off from the ground and flying over to Ron, "we'll see who's laughing after we play them."
"Exactly the attitude I want, Layla," said Angelina approvingly, soaring around them with the Quaffle under her arm and slowing to hover on the spot in front of her airborne team. "Okay, everyone, we're going to start with some passes just to warm up, the whole team please—"
"Hey, Johnson, what's with that hairstyle, anyway?" shrieked Pansy Parkinson from below. "Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?"
Angelina swept her long braided hair out of her face and continued calmly, "Spread out, then, and let's see what we can do..."
Layla reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed to Ron, who dropped it.
The Slytherins, led by Draco, roared and screamed with laughter. Ron, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing.
"Pass it on, Ron," called Angelina, as though nothing had happened.
Ron threw the Quaffle to Layla, who passed back to Fred, who passed to Harry...
"Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling?" called Draco. "Sure you don't need a lie down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that's a record for you, isn't it?"
Harry passed to Angelina; she reverse-passed to Harry, who had not been expecting it, but caught it in the very tips of his fingers and passed it quickly to Ron, who lunged for it and missed by inches.
"Come on now, Ron," said Angelina crossly, as he dived for the ground again, chasing the Quaffle. "Pay attention."
It would have been hard to say whether Ron's face or the Quaffle was a deeper scarlet when he again returned to playing height. Draco and the rest of the Slytherin team were howling with laughter.
On his third attempt, Ron caught the Quaffle; perhaps out of relief he passed it on so enthusiastically that it soared straight though Katie's outstretched hands and hit her hard in the face.
"Sorry!" Ron groaned, zooming forwards to see whether he had done any damage.
"Get back in position, she's fine!" barked Angelina. "But as you're passing to a teammate, do try not to knock her off her broom, won't you? We've got Bludgers for that!"
Katie's nose was bleeding. Down below, the Slytherins were stamping their feet and jeering. Fred and George converged on Katie.
"Here, take this," Fred told her, handing her something small and purple from out of his pocket, "it'll clear it up in no time."
"All right," called Angelina, "Fred, George, go and get your bats and a Bludger. Ron, get up to the goalposts. Harry, release the Snitch when I say so. We're going to aim for Ron's goal, obviously."
When Angelina blew her whistle, Harry released the Snitch and Fred and George let fly the Bludger.
Angelina threw the Quaffle to Layla, who sped towards the goalposts just as a Bludger threw past her, causing her to quickly throw the Quaffle to Katie, whose nose was still bleeding, and Fred came over to smack the Bludger away from Layla.
Layla quickly zoomed closer to the goalposts to get in position as Katie threw the Quaffle to Angelina, who then threw it back to Layla. The Lupin girl turned towards the goalposts and effortlessly threw it into the middle one since it stood unguarded.
"Stop — stop — STOP!" screamed Angelina. "Ron — you're not covering your middle post!"
Ron was hovering in front of the left-hand hoop, leaving the other two completely unprotected.
"Oh... sorry..."
"You keep shifting around while you're watching the Chasers!" said Angelina. "Either stay in centre position until you have to move to defend a hoop, or else circle the hoops, but don't drift vaguely off to one side, that's how you let in the other goals!"
"Sorry..." Ron repeated, his red face shining like a beacon against the bright blue sky.
"And Katie, can't you do something about that nosebleed?"
"It's just getting worse!" said Katie thickly, attempting to stem the flow with her sleeve.
Layla glanced round at Fred, who was looking anxious and checking his pockets. He saw Fred pull out something purple, examine it for a second and then look round at Katie, evidently horror-struck.
"Well, let's try again," said Angelina. She was ignoring the Slytherins, who had now set up a chant of 'Gryffindor are losers, Gryffindor are losers,' but there was a certain rigidity about her seat on the broom nevertheless.
This time they had been flying for barely three minutes when Angelina's whistle sounded. Layla turned and saw Angelina, Fred, and George all flying as fast as they could towards Katie. Layla and Harry sped towards her, too. It was plain that Angelina had stopped training just in time; Katie was now chalk white and covered in blood.
"She needs the hospital wing," said Angelina.
"We'll take her," said Fred. "She — er — might have swallowed a Blood Blisterpod by mistake—"
"Well, there's no point continuing with no Beaters and a Chaser gone," said Angelina glumly as Fred and George zoomed off towards the castle supporting Katie between them. "Come on, let's go and get changed."
The Slytherins continued to chant as they trailed back into the changing rooms.
"How was practice?" asked Ginny half an hour later, as Layla climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.
"It was one of the worst ones I've ever had," said Layla with a heavy sigh. "I mean, no offence to your brother... he's one of my best friends, but he's by far the weakest player on the team."
"I'm not surprised," Ginny chuckled. "It's Ron. Quidditch just obviously isn't for him. He probably only tried out because Harry's on the team, or because he wanted mum to praise him."
"True," Layla smirked. "I'm tired. I'll be in my dorm. Catch you later, Gin."
With that, Layla walked up the stairs to her dormitory.
On Sunday, Layla was more drained than usual from all of the homework that she still had to to by tomorrow. She said hi to Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati in the morning when they woke up, but that was it. She didn't leave her dorm, trying to get through all of the homework. She missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She hadn't been eating properly in months, but she still tried to eat at least one small thing a day, even if it was just a few grapes. But she hadn't eaten a single thing all weekend. No one had noticed, which Layla was glad about. She didn't need the lecture about 'you need to eat'.
The next time Layla ate was at breakfast during Monday morning, where she only grabbed three strawberries to munch on.
"Lay," said Ginny across from her, holding a Daily Prophet. "You seen this?"
She handed the Daily Prophet to Layla, who quickly skimmed through it. There was a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED
FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR
"High Inquisitor?" Layla scoffed. "Is this a joke?"
She read on.
In a surprise move last night, the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation, giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns, voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."
This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.
"That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."
It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."
The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.
"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."
Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, 'Mad-Eye' Moody.
"They mentioned my dad," Layla muttered angrily. "Why does everyone think he's dangerous?"
"We all know he's not dangerous, Lay," said Ginny sympathetically. "The Daily Prophet is just finding ways to bring dirt to Dumbledore's name."
Layla sighed and continued to read.
Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.
"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.
"Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore."
(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)
"What rubbish," Layla passed the payer back to Ginny.
"I know it is," Ginny ripped the paper in two. "Just ignore it."
Layla looked down at her right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced her to cut into her skin.
"That bitch is dead," she murmured angrily. She went to stand up until she heard giggling down the table, followed by the mention of her name.
"We should totally start calling Layla 'werewolf girl'. I heard Pansy Parkinson call her that and it fits!"
"Lav, that's mean..."
"But it's funny! I mean, Professor Lupin was a werewolf all along. He could've killed us!"
"He was a good guy, and Layla is kind. She doesn't deserve that."
"Don't be stubborn, Parvati. Just go along with it. Maybe she'll turn into a werewolf just like her killer dad."
"I don't think that's how it works, Lav..."
Layla's blood boiled, anger enveloping her as she glanced to her left where Lavender and Parvati were sitting half way down the table. It was clear that they were trying to whisper but they were no good at it. They were as loud as day.
Ginny's eyes widened when she noticed Layla rise to her feet, hands balled into tight fists at her side, with anger evidently blazing across her features. The redhead knew exactly what the Lupin girl was going to do.
"Lay, don't."
But Ginny's words fell upon deaf ears as Layla began taking long strides towards Lavender and Parvati until she stood right behind Lavender, who hadn't noticed her presence and was still giggling away. However, Parvati had noticed and her eyes widened, trying to make signals to Lavender to shut up.
"What are you doing?" Lavender asked her friend, followed by another giggle.
"Lav, be quiet..."
"Why?" Lavender grinned with another giggle. "Don't tell me you think werewolf girl will try and kill us in our sleep. Actually, I wouldn't put it past her. I'm surprised Professor Lupin didn't roam the halls in his wolf form, preying on students."
"What was that?" Layla finally spoke up, her jaw clenched tightly, her fists tightening at her sides until her knuckles were pure white, and her teeth clenched in anger.
Lavender immediately froze, her giggling stopping in a split second. She slowly turned her head to look at Layla, her mouth opening and closing.
"Oh! H-hey, Layla! Want to, um, sit with us?"
"Stand up."
"Pardon?"
"Stand UP!" The rise in Layla's voice grew so loud that the whole of Gryffindor table, as well as a few students from the other tables and even a few staff had turned to see what was happening.
Lavender gulped and slowly rose to her feet, trying to put on a convincing smile, though failed.
"Um... yeah?"
"Repeat what you said to me. Loud and clear, why don't you?" Layla smiled, wide and fake. Lavender began stammering for a response.
"W-we were just talking—"
"About my dad?" Layla scoffed. "Yeah, I heard."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
Lavender cut herself off as a gasp of pain fell from her lips. Layla had grabbed the back of her long hair and yanked her backwards, arching Lavender's back uncomfortably.
"You didn't mean to? Really?" said Layla with a humourless laugh. "Well, I guess it's too bad that I don't believe you."
Layla released Lavender's hair, causing her to stand up straight again. She seemed to have regained a little more of her confidence.
"How dare y—?"
But again, Lavender was unable to finish her sentence. Half of the students gasped, many more turned to see what was happening, whispers had filled the hall, Madam Pomfrey had clapped a hand over her mouth, Professor Flitwick squeaked in surprise, both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore had abruptly risen to their feet, and Lavender dropped to the floor, holding a hand over the right side of her face.
Layla had punched her. Right across her face. Hard. And she grinned as she watched Lavender let out a whimper of pain.
"Layla Lupin!" Dumbledore then called. "My office. The rest of you, off to your lessons."
He and McGonagall left the hall. Layla rolled her eyes and turned to the students. Many were whispering, many were pointing, all were staring. Layla gave them a sarcastic wave, brushed her brown and pink hair off of her shoulder, and followed the two professors out of the hall, carefully listening in on the whispers as she passed.
"Is that really Lupin?"
"What happened to that poor girl?"
"I know, right? I thought she was sweet."
"That girl is messed up."
At that last one, Layla rolled her eyes and turned the corner out of the hall.
Dumbledore and McGonagall remained silent and didn't even bother glancing over in Layla's direction until Dumbledore had said the password to his office and Layla found herself sitting in front of his desk, facing her Headmaster and her head of House.
"What was that, Miss Lupin?" Dumbledore was the first to speak.
"She was saying things about my father. I couldn't let it slide," said Layla with a nonchalant shrug. "She should've watched her mouth."
"That was the wrong way to go about it," said Dumbledore with a disapproving sigh. "If you had issues, you should have went straight to your head of House. Professor McGonagall would have sorted it for you."
"I wasn't going to go running off to get someone to fight my battles for me," Layla shot back angrily, leaning forward in her chair. "I'm not a child in need of protecting."
"Perhaps not, but you are a student at this school and there are consequences to your decisions," said Dumbledore calmly. "As your head of House, McGonagall with decide on your punishment. I will allow you two to discuss this alone."
With that, Dumbledore left, leaving McGonagall to take his seat.
"So, Miss Lupin, if you would like, I could write up a statement about how this situation occurred and we will choose how to go about it," said McGonagall, grabbing a piece of parchment, along with a quill and ink. "What were the things she said about your father?"
"No need," said Layla, scoffing angrily. "I took care of it myself."
"I know you did," McGonagall sighed. "But we still need to get to the bottom of this. What did Miss Brown say?"
"She said that my father is a dangerous killer, alright?" snapped Layla, her anger increasing as the words left her mouth. "How dare she?! It's not like my dad chose to be a werewolf! It was forced on him! He was a kid! He is not a monster!"
"Believe me, Miss Lupin, I know perfectly well that your father is nothing of the sort," said McGonagall calmly, jotting down words on the parchment. "Did she say anything else?"
"Just that she was surprised my dad didn't kill them all in the classroom," said Layla, "and that they should start calling me 'werewolf girl' just because of who my dad is. I'm not ashamed of being his daughter! Many girls would only dream of having a dad who treats me as well as he does!"
"You have no reason to be ashamed either way, Miss Lupin," said McGonagall, writing more words down. "I shall speak with Miss Brown later to issue a detention and deduct points for her behaviour. But I can also not excuse your acts of violence."
"Fine," said Layla, slouching down in her seat and crossing her arms angrily. "What's my punishment?"
"A detention, and thirty points will be deducted from Gryffindor House," McGonagall announced. "I will discuss your detention will Professor Umbridge and write to you later today with a time and a date."
"Fine," Layla muttered, though her words were quieter than they had been since she stepped foot in the office. Another detention with Umbridge meant another scar on her hand...
"You may go," McGonagall dismissed her, so Layla quickly left.
The whole way to History of Magic, Layla didn't even think once about what happened with her and Lavender. Her mind was solely on the fact that Umbridge was High Inquisitor, meaning she could monitor the teachers during lessons.
Luckily for Layla, and Professor Binns, Umbridge wasn't inspecting their lesson, meaning that she couldn't see Binns practically making the entire class fall asleep.
Professor Umbridge wasn't in Snape's dungeon ether when the class arrived for double Potions, where Layla's moonstone essay was handed back to her with a large, spiky black 'A' scrawled in an upper corner. Although, the grades were marked differently in Hogwarts. 'A' was merely an 'Acceptable'. It was definitely not the highest grade, but it was far from the lowest, too.
"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination."
Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.
"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a 'D'."
He smirked as Draco sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got a 'D'? Ha!"
Potions wasn't Layla's strong suit, but at least she was able to make a decent enough potion when she actually tried hard enough. She read the instructions on the blackboard before acting on them. Her Strengthening Solution was definitely worth a good grade considering that it was precisely the clear turquoise shade that it was supposed to be. Layla smirked triumphantly.
"Take that, Snivellus," Layla muttered to herself proudly, remembering the nickname that her dad had told her he and Sirius used to call Snape during their Hogwarts days.
She delivered a flask of her Strengthening Solution to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson and then quickly left. She was mildly surprised when Hermione hurried over to catch up to her since she had not said a word to Layla all during potions, probably due to what happened with Lavender.
"Hey, Lay," Hermione muttered. "Are you alright?"
"If you're going to ask me why I punched Lavender, don't bother," said Layla. "She deserved it."
"I'm not here to lecture you, Lay. I mean, you might have gone about it the wrong way—"
"That's lecturing."
"Sorry," muttered Hermione. "But I do think she had it coming. I heard what she said about Lupin. She shouldn't have said that."
"I know," said Layla with a quiet sigh and they fell into silence after that. Hermione broke the silence only a few seconds later.
"Well, that lesson wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" she said, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it? I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say? Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on. Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an 'O'—"
"'Mione," said Layla, "if you want to know what grade I got, ask."
"I don't — well, if you want to tell me—"
"I got an 'A'," said Layla with a shrug.
"Well, that's still a pass! It's still good," said Hermione optimistically. "I got an 'E', but that's only one grade above yours, and it was a tough paper, and I'm sure I barely even scraped an 'E'."
"You don't have to try and make me feel better, 'Mione," said Layla with a small chuckle, and Hermione seemed relieved at the sound. "I'm fine with my grade. It's still a pass and I'll just have to work harder. I don't mind."
"Okay," said Hermione brightly. "Can I sit with you and Ginny for lunch? I haven't sat with you during meals all year, I think."
"You can sit with Gin," said Layla. "But I'm gonna skip lunch. I'm going to get started on this week's potions essay. Try and push my grade up."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, you go eat, it's okay. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" said Hermione with a small frown. "You've missed an awful lot of meal times this week."
"No, I haven't," Layla lied. "I've been at every one. You must have not seen me."
"Lay, I would've definitely noticed you if—"
"Well, clearly not," Layla snapped. She didn't mean for her words to come out so harsh. It took Hermione a little by surprise. Layla awkwardly cleared her throat. "Sorry. Um, well, I'll see you later. Bye."
With that, Layla turned on her heel and headed to the library to work on her essay. She really wanted to get her grade up. Sure, she didn't care as much about school work as she had in previous years, but she wanted a good career in the future, which meant getting quite a few OWLs.
An 'A' was still a pass. It still classified as an OWL, but it wasn't good enough. The highest grade was 'O', which was 'Oustanding'. Then, there was 'E', which Hermione received: 'Exceeds Expectations'. And then 'A', which Layla managed to get: 'Acceptable'. After that came the bad grades. First, 'P' for 'Poor', and then 'D' for 'Dreadful'. Lastly, the worst grade to get, which would be difficult to achieve so low, was 'T' for 'Troll'.
After Layla finished her potions essay, which she thought was worthy of at least an 'E', she headed off to Transfiguration.
She was pulling out her dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Professor Umbridge emerged through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out copies of The Dream Oracle, look round.
"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"
Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.
Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses.
"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each others latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle."
She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Parvati and Lavender, who were previously muttering and casting dark looks in Layla's direction, but as soon as Professor Trelawney approached them, they pretended to be in a deep discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.
Layla rolled her eyes, just as someone sat down beside her. She looked to see that it was Dean Thomas.
"Hey, Layla," he greeted her with a grin. "Neville and Seamus decided to work together. Mind if I join you?"
"If you want," Layla replied with a shrug, opening her copy of The Dream Oracle, glancing over at Umbridge, who was already making notes on her clipboard. After a few minutes, Umbridge got to her feet and began to pace the room in Professor Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. Layla turned back to Dean. "Well, we better start. Before that old toad decides to come our way."
"Okay, well, what was your most recent dream?" asked Dean.
"Um..." Layla flicked through her dream diary. "I can't actually remember."
She found the her most recent dream in the diary and her eyes widened in the dream.
I dreamt that my ex-boyfriend who was killed last year came back to Hogwarts as a school ghost. I was crying with joy and told him how happy I was to see him again, even as a ghost, but he couldn't remember who I was at all.
"Um..." Layla frowned. "It's more of a nightmare than a dream. I'll just read another one."
She flipped to another next page and read the dream.
"Oh, here," she began. "I dreamt the other day that I didn't have any money to buy anything from Honeydukes so I tried to beg other students to lend me galleons. Like I'd ever do that."
"Okay," Dean chuckled. "What do you think that means?"
"I don't know," said Layla with a sigh as she thought about it. "Maybe I'm going to end up poor."
"I doubt that'll happen," said Dean with a cheerful smile. "You're smart. You'll do fine."
"Thanks," said Layla.
"Okay, let's see," muttered Dean as he opened his own copy of The Dream Oracle. "It says here that we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject... would that be 'money' or 'honeydukes' or 'begged'?"
"I'd just pick any. Just use 'money', I guess," Layla shrugged carelessly.
"You're fifteen, right?" asked Dean.
"Yep," said Layla, nodding. "I turn sixteen in December."
"Okay. What night did you dream this again?" Dean said, immersed in calculations.
"I dunno, on Friday, I think," Layla told him, glancing over at Umbridge and trying to hear what she was saying to Professor Trelawney. They were only a few tables away from Layla and Dean now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out.
"Now," said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?"
Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection.
After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, "Nearly sixteen years."
"Quite a period," said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"
"That's right," said Professor Trelawney shortly.
Professor Umbridge made another note.
"And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"
"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.
Another note on the clipboard.
"But I think — correct me if I am mistaken — that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?"
"These things often skip — er — three generations," said Professor Trelawney.
Professor Umbridge's toad-like smile widened.
"Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.
Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears.
"I don't understand you," she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.
"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.
Layla was not the only person now watching and listening sneakily. Dean had also looked up to listen, as had most of the class, all staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking.
"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" she said in scandalised tones.
"I see," said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard.
"I — but — but... wait!" said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. "I... I think I do see something... something that concerns you... why, I sense something... something dark... some grave peril..."
Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge, who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.
"I am afraid... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Professor Trelawney finished dramatically.
There was a pause. Professor Umbridge surveyed Professor Trelawney.
"Right," she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "Well, if that's really the best you can do..."
She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving.
For the remainder of the class, Professor Umbridge stood to the side, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang, she descended the silver ladder first and was waiting for them all when they reached their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.
She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Layla took her usual seat beside Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, and told her exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions, Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell.
"Wands away," she instructed them all with a smile, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out, sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence 'Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation'. There will be no need to talk."
Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as they turned, as one, to page nineteen. Hermione, however, had raised her hand.
Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"
"I've already read Chapter Two," said Hermione.
"Well then, proceed to Chapter Three."
"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."
Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.
"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."
"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. "He says 'counter-jinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Harry knew she was impressed, against her will.
"But I disagree," Hermione continued.
Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.
"You disagree?" she repeated.
"Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. "Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."
"But—" Hermione began.
"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house."
There was an outbreak of muttering at this.
"What for?" said Layla angrily.
"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to her.
"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection—"
"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Layla loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."
This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Layla had ever heard. Then—
"Professor McGonagall has already spoken to me about that detention she issued you, which will take place at the usual time tonight. But due to your outburst, I myself will be issuing you an extra week's detentions, Miss Lupin," said Umbridge sleekly.
That night, the cut on the back of Layla's hand had barely healed and, by the following morning, it was bleeding again. She did not complain like she usually would during the evening's detention; she was determined not to give Umbridge the satisfaction.
Since last evening's detention was issued by McGonagall about the Lavender incident, Layla was forced to write, I must not use violence, over and over again, and not a sound escaped her lips, though the cut deepened with every letter. Layla could only
imagine what she'd be forced to write for the rest of the week.
The very worst part of this second week's worth of detentions was Angslina's reaction. She cornered Layla just as she was heading to grab a muffin from breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table.
"Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket! Five points from Gryffindor!"
"But Professor — she's gone and landed herself in detention again for a whole week—"
"What's this, Lupin?" said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Layla. "I only issued you a single detention. Who extended it to a full week?"
"Professor Umbridge. It was extended because of something else that happened," muttered Layla, not meeting Professor McGonagall's beady, square-framed eyes.
"Lupin, you must get a grip on yourself! This is your second week's worth of detentions! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!"
"But Professor, no!" Layla said, furious at this injustice, "I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?"
"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "No, not another word of complaint, Lupin! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team captaincy!"
Professor McGonagall strode back towards the staff table. Angelina huffed and simply stalked away without another word. Layla decided that she was no longer hungry for her breakfast muffin and turned around to head back to the common room instead. She had some some tomato soup last night. That should last her twenty four hours.
When it was time to head to lessons, Charms passed quite uneventfufully, and then it was time for Transfiguration. Professor Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner.
Layla took her usual seat beside Hermione.
Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.
"That will do," she said and silence fell immediately. "Mr Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework — Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you — and hand one to each student—"
"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Layla's essay; Layla took it without looking at him and saw that she had received the same grade as Transfiguration. 'A'. She sighed, knowing that she really needed to step it up. A pass wasn't good enough for her.
"Right then, everyone, listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again, I shall put you in detention — most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be—"
"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge.
"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.
"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—"
"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. "As I was saying: today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—"
"Hem, hem."
"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."
Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.
Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.
"As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So — you know the incantation, let me see what you can do..."
Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she realised Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.
As the class filed out of the classroom, Layla saw Professor Umbndge approach the teacher's desk. She was eager to eavesdrop, but she didn't want to risk another detention or more house points lost by listening in. So, she simply left the classroom.
She had thought that the next time she would see Umbridge would be in her detention that evening, but she was wrong. When they walked down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, the class found her and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank.
"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Layla heard her ask as they arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive Bowtruckles were scrabbling around for woodlice like so many living twigs.
"Quite correct," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."
"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Layla could still hear her quite clearly. "I wonder — the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter — can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"
"'Fraid I can't," said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks' teaching, work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?"
"Yes, please do," said Professor Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.
Umbridge took a different tack in this class and wandered amongst the students, questioning them on magical creatures. Most people were able to answer well.
"Overall," said Professor Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank's side after a lengthy interrogation of Dean Thomas, "how do you, as a temporary member of staff — an objective outsider,
I suppose you might say — how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"
"Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent," said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. "Yes, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."
Looking politely incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and went on, "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year — assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"
"Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in OWL," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Not much left to do — they've studied unicorns and Nifflers, I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognise Crups and Knarls, you know..."
"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. She put her next question to Goyle. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"
Goyle gave a stupid grin. Draco hastened to answer the question.
"That was me," he said. "I was slashed by a Hippogriff."
"A Hippogriff?" said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.
"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," said Harry angrily.
Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry's direction.
"That will be detention for you tonight," she said softly. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."
"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.
When Layla headed up for another night's detention, she arrived just as Harry was leaving, exactly how they'd run into each other during their first night's detention at the start of the year. Harry was cradling his hand, which looked very red and sore, a few drops of blood falling. Layla wanted to reach out to inspect his hand, but held herself back and remained silent.
"Good luck," Harry muttered before leaving. Layla sighed.
It was nearly midnight when Layla left Umbridge's office that night, her hand bleeding severely.
Once she returned to her quiet and dark dormitory, she crawled under the covers to go to sleep, until she heard a quiet voice.
"Psst, Lay."
It was Hermione. Layla turned to her just to see Hermione reach her hand towards Layla's bed, handing her a small piece of parchment. Layla quickly switched her lamp on to read the piece of parchment. It was a sort of poster that Hermione had clearly created and was handing around.
STAND AGAINST UMBRIDGE!
STAND AGAINST THE MINISTRY!
Want to learn REAL Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Meet in the Hog's Head during the first Hogsmeade trip next month. SPREAD THE WORD!
1. NO Slytherins/enemies.
2. NO snitches.
3. ONLY FRIENDS AND TRUSTED STUDENTS!
"Learn real Defense Against the Dark Arts? You mean, we'll be able to use our wands?" Layla whispered to Hermione, who nodded eagerly. "Who'll be teaching us all of this? It's clearly not Umbridge. Dumbledore?"
"No. Harry," Hermione whispered back, taking Layla by surprise. "Be there next month. Harry wants you there."
With that, Hermione turned over and fell asleep.
Layla sighed and switched her lamp off, also falling asleep.