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Dark circles . . . dark bags under the eyes due to exhaustion or lack of sleep, among other reasons — it wasn't a condition that Quinn wasn't familiar with; he had spent more than his share of all-nighters — but never in his life did Quinn had let himself slip so much that it would cause dark circles to appear on his face.
One of his believes was: 'The number of hours you are awake doesn't matter, as much how you spent those awake hours — sleeping seven to eight hours every day was perfectly fine if the remaining hours spent awake were spent efficiently and diligently.'
The only exception to his track record was the two weeks in Hogwarts after the Sin curse had broken; in those days, Quinn's condition deteriorated so much that he had on more than a few occasions had taken Sleeping Draught just to put himself into sleep — a fact that he loathed because Sleeping Draughts were addictive if taken carelessly over a long period of time.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh," he voiced with his face buried into his hands, "why is this so difficult . . . it's just pushing a pedestal down into the ground . . . so why can't I solve that."
In the days that Quinn had been going at the weight-pedestal-archway problem, the amount of progress he had made couldn't even amount to an iota — an imaginary number. No amount of force or way to apply said force he tried; the result was the same — the archway the same as it did when he jumped on the pedestal, and that was it — the pedestal refused to budge beyond that.
In frustration, Quinn had attacked the archway wall, but that didn't do him any good — the wall was too tough for him to break through force — not to mention it attacked back with explosions(which didn't harm Quinn anymore, but that didn't make the experience any less pleasant.)
He took a deep breath, opened the notebook on the table, and stared at the pages upon pages of calculations, theories, decisions, possibilities, opportunities, hypotheses drafted by him to beat the mechanism.
"Useless," he flipped a page, "ever more useless," some more, "what was I thinking here, this would never work" — he snapped the book close — "waste of time, all of this." He crossed his hands and stared straight ahead at a random cabinet door in his workshop, thinking how to proceed from here on.
"There's absolutely nothing in there that would tell me how to proceed." As Quinn had observed, the vault room was unbelievably plain; the only extra piece of information from the room was the type of stone it was made from; other than that, the room had told him zilch.
Quinn had even gone back to the entrance hall in case he had missed something. But after a thorough study of everything, the results were disappointed with no gains — even taking the portrait with the architect on it and keeping an eye on it for twenty-four hours had not unearthed any new information.
With a heaving sigh, he got up on his feet and walked into the office. One step into the office, he heard the door chime bell as expected, saturating the room with a filling ting.
"Welcome to AID. How may I be of service today," the customary lines flowed out as he closed the red door behind him. Raising his eyes to the customer met him with familiar faces, "Ivy and Hermione, it's you two again," the Gryffindor girl duo walked to his table, taking their seats, used to visiting his office, "so what's going to be the agenda today?"
"You don't look good," said Ivy worried.
"And you look gorgeous as well, my dear," said Quinn flashing a smile, and that had some effect on Ivy. "I'm lacking some sleep — it's nothing to be worried about."
"Are you sure?" said Hermoine. "We can always come back later."
"It's the middle of the day; I'm not going to sleep just to wake up in the middle of the night. . . Please, I appreciate your concerns, but be relieved it's nothing that a good nap can't fix."
The two girls stared at Quinn for a moment before relenting.
Ivy nodded and continued at Quinn's assistance, "We want to talk to you about our study group—"
"Ah yes, I have heard about that from Marcus, and I recall Eddie mentioning that you were looking for me."
"So you know what we are doing," said Hermione.
"I know that it's a study group for Defense Against Dark Arts and that you've been putting out feelers to see who'll be interested," he had also gotten said feelers from Weasley twins in one of their meets, "you set up your first meet at Hog's Head and from what the chatter I heard and what Marcus told me, it seemed to be a great success — how many of them were there, again," — saying that Quinn opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper and read from it, — "forty-six people attended the meeting, and all of them signed up."
"What's that?" asked Ivy as both girls stared at the paper in Quinn's hand.
"This is a copy of the list that you guys drafted that day," Quinn passed on the sheet to Hermione.
Hermione, who was in charge of safe-keeping of the list (it falling into Umbridge's hand, would have been nothing less than an apocalypse) stared at the so-called copy, and her jaw dropped when she saw that it wasn't just a list of names — it was an exact replica with original handwritings intact.
"H-How. . . how did you get this?!" exclaimed Hermione.
"It's quite obvious, isn't it?" spoke Quinn. "Someone in that meeting made a duplicate using the doubling charm and gave the copy to me, which I then used to create a permanent copy before the charmed-duplicated vanished. . . of course, the identity of my informant will be kept a secret according to their and my wishes."
Seeing the expression of shock and doubt towards him in Hermione and Ivy's eyes, Quinn sighed, "My motive behind doing this was not to hold this over you, which might be a bit difficult to believe given our history together, but believe me, I'm not trying to gain leverage on the people in the list."
"Then why?" said Ivy, a bit unhappy. "If you wanted to see the list, I would have shown it to you upfront."
"To make both of you feel threatened." — the expression on their faces turned confused — "If I can get my hands on that list so easily, when I wasn't even in the meet, Umbridge can also get her hands on the list and then all of you will be in great trouble. . . so make sure to keep the original safe and," Quinn pointed at the copy, "you can keep that; it's my only copy — as I said, I meant no harm, and it was just an attempt to get you aware of the stakes. . . Even though they know the risks, I don't want Eddie, Marcus, and Luna to get in trouble."
Ivy flourished her wand in hand, and a red zap turned the paper into a pile of dust on the table. Quinn vanished the ash pile and stared at the table to sigh in relief when he saw the absence of scorch marks on the wood.
"Hey, I'm capable enough to burn a paper without surrounding damage," said Ivy.
"I believe you, I promise."
"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat to gather their attention and continued with haste, "so will you take part in our group?"
"Dumbledore's Army," said Ivy adventurously.
Quinn hummed as if in thought and then glanced at both of the girls.
"No," he said simply.
"Eh, why?" "What's the problem?!"
"There are a few reasons, but the biggest reason is that," he pointed at the place where Ivy had burned the list, "there were no Slytherins on that list — excluding one house while the other three play together is a big no-no."
"We can't take the risk," said Hermione, "if we tell them about our plans, we will be over before we even start — Slytherins will leak our plans to Umbridge; they love her."
"I understand your worries, but what you're doing is to segregate a group because of the actions of a part of said group. I won't pretend what you are saying isn't correct; you would have been shut down a hundred percent if you kept Slytherin in the loop," — he hushed them —, "but there is a good quantity of Slytherins who wouldn't shake Umbridge's hand with a ten-meter pole. . . and your group isolating them form this opportunity doesn't fit right with me — and don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that it's your responsibility to get Slytherin students; this is a private group and not a charitable cause, you can take in anyone you want, even Umbridge herself. . . but if you want me to join your group, then you'll have you take in some Slytherins."
If it was someone else, they wouldn't have contemplated even for a second, but the person in front of them wasn't anyone else.
"I can make your decision easier and get you a highly curated list of people who would want to be part of this group and would keep their lips sealed about it. . . I can guarantee that last part."
"Guarantee?" said Hermione.
Quinn nodded lightly.
"What else," said Ivy, not fiving Quinn an answer immediately.
"The group name, Dumbledore's Army," said Quinn with a sigh, "listen I don' mind signing my name on the original parchment as everyone did; it wouldn't be fair to everyone otherwise," circumventing Hermione's charm was easy enough, "but I would prefer if I'm not taken as part of something known as Dumebldore's Amry — so I would seriously suggest changing the name."
"We can do that," said Ivy immediately because even though they had chosen Dumbledore's Army as their group name, that was just because they thought of it as fitting. "We'll get back to you with another name."
"Great. Next, how is this group going to work," asked Quinn, "what's going to be the system of learning because I would only attend in an instructor/tutor capacity — so I would need some amount of freedom on how to conduct things."
"We were actually thinking about letting those good with a spell or concept to teach others. There are close to fifty people with us, so we thought it would be better to conduct it this way," said Hermione.
"Good, that's fine with me. Organize the slots in which you would like me to come in and help out, and I'll be there."
"You won't be there for every session?" said Ivy asking. She thought Quinn would be there every week; she hoped that he would be there every week.
"If you set me up to teach me every week, then I will be there every session," said Quinn shrugging; he didn't mind taking a few hours every week to help out the study group — it would serve as a great break from his others commitments.
"Then we will do that," said Ivy without missing a beat.
Hermione glanced at her best friend. She was folding a bit too easily for Quinn's request. 'Damn, the girl really likes him, huh,' she thought.
"Anything else?" asked Hermione.
"Hmm, nothing I can think at this moment," said Quinn. "I'll get you the list of names for the Slytherin people. You can approach them and tell them that I recommended them to you guys and that I recommend the study group — that will jump up the conversion rate."
"Can you give us an idea who's going to be on the list?" asked Hermione.
"Some of my friends and a few regular clients who I think would like to attend."
The Gryffindor girls knew about the friends, of course. There were only a few that Quinn would call friends.
The conversation seemed to be over when the office door opened up with the door chime ringing. Quinn looked up while Hermione and Ivy turned back to see Luna enter the room with her satchel by her side and a garland of colorful flowers around her neck.
"It's evening," she said.
"A good evening to you as well, Luna," said Quinn in reply.
She glanced at the Gryffindor girls as she walked to beside Quinn. "You look like a panda. A panda with no chubbiness. A panda without panda level cuteness."
"No idea how to respond to that, so I will keep my comments," he smiled.
Luna shrugged before taking out a book from her satchel and handing the ancient leather-bound thing to Quinn. "I got the book that you wanted me to get."
"Thank you," smiled Quinn, and Luna got an entire bar of chocolate in return — something that Quinn didn't give out that much.
Luna unwrapped the chocolate and took an uneven bite out of it as she turned to Hermione and Ivy. "Did you ask him to join Dumbledore's Army?" she asked.
"We did." "They did."
"Then did he agree?" asked Luna.
"He did." "I did."
"That's nice."
"It is." "You bet it is."
While Ivy and Quinn were answering Luna's questions, Hermione was staring at the book in Quinn's hand. "What is the book about?" she asked.
Quinn glanced at the book in hand for a moment. "It's a book about Hogwarts' Architect, Stigweard Gragg. From what I heard from hounding Madam Pince, she says that this book might be written by the man, the myth, the legend himself."
"And why are you looking for it? Also, why didn't you get the book yourself?"
"I'm just curious about the man who designed the castle, and I'm already at the limit at what I can lend out of the library, so Luna got the book for me on her account."
"Stigweard Gragg, was it? He must be quite a person for you to be interested in him."
"The man who designed hundreds of passages inside this huge castle is bound to be really interesting, isn't he?" he stared at the walls above, "Even though Hogwarts wasn't like this at the time it was created, he must've thought that someday his creation would turn out like this. I'm trying to peek into the mind of Stigweard Gragg, attempting to see why he chose to do things as he did; what motivated the man to conceive his creations."
He looked down on him and smiled, "It's a little. . . project of mine that I have taken up this year. . . I think it will be. . . inspiring."
"Inspiration is important," said Luna.
"I think your garland is pretty inspiring, Luna," said Quinn.
"It's an arrangement and color combination that attracts Jauffins. They are supposed to bring luck and make everything go your way. I'm have laid a trap for the Crumpled-Horn Snorcack near the greenhouses and am hoping that one would settle down in the comfy trap."
"The Crumpled-Horn Snorcack doesn't exist," said Hermione.
Luna turned to Hermione and glared at her heatedly.
"It does exist," said Luna.
"It doesn't. There's no proof of it," said Hermione, still not willing to indulge in Luna's 'fantasies.'
"It does exist. The proof is just yet to be discovered," said Luna in a confident return. "I'm going to find it and show everyone once and for all that Crumpled-Horn Snorcack exists." Then the blonde turned to the red door and disappeared into the workshop but not before slamming the heavy, heavy iron-laden door shut.
Quinn looked away from the red door and pumped his brow once at the girls.
"Luna is. . . a complete nonconformist; she lacks self-consciousness and is not afraid to show who she truly was. The only way to truly convince her of something is to make Luna experience it. From the fundamental experience to the most complex things, Luna will only believe in things she has experienced firsthand. . . She believes that the Crumpled-Horn Snorcack exists, and the only way to convince her that it doesn't is for her to herself look for it fail, or for her to find it and show others that she was right."
"What if she never finds and yet never gives up?" asked Hermione.
"Then she will keep looking and keep believing," said Quinn smiling, "it might be a little tacky, but it's a great mind for learning anything. She applies everything she learns just so that she confirm that the words written in the books and those spoken by me hold the truth."
"Isn't that sort of. . . unhealthy," said Ivy.
"Usually, that would hold much truth. But not with Luna. She is intelligent and smart — she is critically aware of where is the line," said Quinn in unbreakable confidence. His time with Luna had taught him that she was far from what one feels when imagining crazy or 'Loony.'
"I still can't relate to how she thinks," said Hermione, not convinced.
Quinn got up, prompting the two girls to get up too, "Well, I'm sure you two would come to realize each other's perspective with all the time you would be spending with each other in the new study group. . . now, ladies, I apologize that we can't talk any longer, but I have some work to do. . ."
"Ah, I see," said Ivy, "then please do send us the names."
"Uh-huh, you'll have them in your hands' first thing in the morning."
As the two were leaving, Quinn spoke the final words, "I'm looking forward to this study group."
"Us too," said Ivy smiling before raising her and waving it, "Well then, bye."
Quinn confusedly raised his hand as well and slowly waved back, "Bye?"
. . .
Outside, Ivy felt her face heat up, and the gaze of Hermione in her back didn't help.
"Bye?" said Hermione.
". . . It just slipped out."
. . .
Inside, Quinn lowered his hand, the smile gradually drained, and he turned back, walking to his table.
"Now, let's get into the messed up mind of the freak Stigweard Gragg," a vein popped on his head, "if this doesn't work, I'm going to dig his tomb and raid his grave."
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Quinn West - MC - Believe it or not, I have a grave robber kit on ready.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - I'm back! Let's get the ball rolling again.
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The link is also in the synopsis.
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On the Monday morning after the meeting at Hog's Head, Eddie and Marcus headed downstairs from their dormitory together, discussing the correct order of jam and cream on a scone, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.
A large sign had been affixed to the Ravenclaw notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there — the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the list of new arrivals in the Ravenclaw library, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasleys' new advertisement for product testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost-and-found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters, and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.
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EDUCATIONAL DECREE -> NO. 24
----------- By Order Of -----------
The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts
All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.
An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is at this moment defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.
Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).
No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.
Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty- four.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge
High Inquisitor
----------- Ministry of Magic -----------
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Eddie and Marcus read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second years.
"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of them asked his friend.
"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," said Eddie, ruffling a second-year's hair, "I don't suppose Quinn will be happy with this, though, is he?" asked Eddie to Marcus as the second-years scurried away.
Marcus was reading the notice through again. His mind turning with the new injection of information. There were a few implications from this notice.
"No, he will not be happy with this; that much is obvious," said Marcus. "This isn't a coincidence. She knows. . . somehow she found out."
"Someone blabbed?" Eddie guessed and threw a glance around the common room, "I can't see anyone with an infestation of acne. . . and let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust. . . . Any of them could have run off and told Umbridge . . ."
Eddie, Quinn, and Luna were already made aware of the jinx placed on them when they signed the parchment; of course, it was a courtesy from their best friend. But he didn't remove it for them — they had committed to the study group, they were going to be treated like everyone else.
"Or someone could've been listening in that pub. . . we didn't really get a good look at any of their faces," said Marcus, suggesting another theory.
"My money is on arse-face, Zacharias Smith," said Eddie scoffing, punching his fist into his palm, "man, I'm going to pop his the jinxed acne-face all at once," he shivered, "oh, I can already feel goosebumps." He was convinced that Zacharias Smith was the one who leaked the information.
"I wonder if Quinn has seen this yet?" Marcus said, glancing around.
"It doesn't matter; he will know soon enough."
"You're pretty chill," said Marcus, looking over to Eddie, "I thought you would be more pissed at this."
"Eh, why? We were probably going to do the study group no matter what the situation; this is but a blip in our endeavor."
"You realize she's including Quidditch in this. An Organization, Society, Team. . . team as in Quidditch team."
Eddie's mouth slowly opened as his eyes read upon the notice once more, and as Marcus had said, it was written right there.
"Motherfuc—"
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The clicking of a wall clock ticked away in the silent AID office as the owner sat behind his office table, reading the ancient tome written on the life of Stigweard Gragg and, in turn, making his way through the enormous amount of garbage written about the Architect.
"No, I don't want to know about his neighbor's wife's relationship with his other neighbor. . . maybe some other day, not now," mumbled Quinn with a sigh but picked his pen and made notes — one never knew where a code might be hidden. "Surely not in the color of his favorite loincloth. . . Ugh, why would someone add this to a biography!"
But he had no choice to read through this book as the room of the now dubbed Architect's vault didn't provide him much information.
"At least, in the Icy vault, I knew what I had to work towards to succeed," he said, grumbling while flipping a page and marking some notes.
The Icy vault had a mechanism, and just like Architect's vault, he had no idea how both mechanisms worked (he only got to know the working of the Icy vault mechanism after he entered the inner vault room.) But in Icy vault, Quinn had a direction on how to solve the problem — here, he only had a problem (to push the pedestal down) and no way to solve it.
"The pedestal better not be a decoy for the real deal to be hiding somewhere else," he said before again flipping to the next page to start a new chapter in the book.
"The Magical Adventures of Stigweard Gragg. . . hmm, this might be interesting," he said, but his reading was interrupted when he 'sensed' someone outside and looked up. A few seconds later, the door opened, and 'pink' entered the room with Argus Filch holding the door for her.
"You can leave, Argus," said the woman in her sickening voice, and the hunched caretaker left with a bow and a nasty cackle.
He watched as the toad-like woman gazed at his office with hands clasped together in the front and a sickeningly-sweet smile on her face as if she was watching an infant's playroom.
Quinn glanced down at the open pages in front of him, and a sigh escaped from him.
"Afternoon, Madam Umbridge," said Quinn as he gently closed the book and put it away in a drawer with his notes. "To what do we owe the pleasure for you to visit my humble abode."
Umbridge continued to look around his eyes and move from one wall to the glass wall. She raised her hand and touched the glass. . . her fingers curled up into a claw, and her manicured, sharp pink nails dragged down on the surface, but they failed to do damage because of the series of treatments that the glass had gone through.
The woman looked dissatisfied and raised her hand to look at her nails then back at the glass.
"Good afternoon, Mr. West," said Umbridge finally, "I have heard about this club of yours a lot," she reached into her purse and took out a black card, "AID services. . . you have been running this club for quite a few years, and I have heard nothing but promising words about it."
"Thank you," said Quinn nonchalantly.
"But did you not see Educational Decree Number Twenty- four?" she said, moving towards his table step-by-step, "all Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded."
"I did see that, but don't you think it was a bit too aggressive — to shut down every long-standing club, formal or informal?"
"Of course not, my dear," the smile on her face widened, "it's all to improve academics of Hogwarts students — it's for their own good. I'm simply trying to guide the children to grow into functioning part of the society as model citizens."
"But you ever closed the educational clubs — transfiguration, charms, astronomy, and the other ones. Those clubs were a place for students to share, increase, and consolidate their knowledge."
"Nonsense, the ministry-approved taught in the classroom is more than enough," sweetness rolled off from Umbridge's tongue as her tone became one used with little children, "and if the children do think that an organization is indeed beneficial to them, a provision is given for reinstation — they would just need to tell me the benefits."
Quinn picked a parchment on his table and read from it, "Seventeen applications were submitted to you today, and you rejected every single one of them bar one — that one exception being the Slytherin Quidditch Team. . . and out of the sixteen rejections, one of them was Professor Sprouts' outdoor club for extra herbology exploration for the interested ones. . . your provision doesn't seem to make sense, Madam Umbridge."
"The Slytherin Quidditch Team members all have outstanding grades — there wasn't a need to disband them because of their excellent academic performance," Umbridge had reached the table, and as she spoke, she tried to take a look at the parchment in Quinn's hand, but he had held it vertical enough for her not being able to see a single word.
Quinn laughed as he had heard the best joke of the year. "And Ravenclaw Quidditch Team doesn't?" he said, "it took you," — a look at the parchment — "a total of two minutes for you to dismiss the team captain Roger Davies and reject the application. . . . Do you, a Hogwarts graduate, really think that a group of Ravenclaw students would have poor grades, surely not."
Umbridge fixedly stared at the parchment in Quinn's hand.
"Mr. West, what's that parch—"
Quinn cut her off at once and apathetically stared while directly asking what seemed to be a question with an obvious answer.
"Why are you here, Madam Umbridge?" he asked.
"That's Professor Umbridge to you, Mr. West."
"First teach me something, then I will think about it. I'm more willing to address the author of the reference as my Professor than you."
Umbridge's smile twitched a bit, "Detention check for that cheek, Mr. West."
"With pleasure," said Quinn with a shrug, "Give me a time and place, and I will be there."
"Good, at least you're not completely without manners," said Umbridge with a smug smile. "Now, I want to you two close this little playhouse," she sighed, "what were the Professors thinking giving a student complete control over a classroom and allowing him to run this ridiculous charade. There's a reason why Prefects, Headboy, and Headgirls are selected — they'll help their fellow students and not this ridiculousness from you."
Quinn raised a finger and pointed at the Prefect pin on his robe's lapel, "I'm a Prefect if you haven't noticed."
"I'm aware, Mr. West," Umbridge said in a chiding tone, "but you have been wasting your time on this before you were a Prefect — I, in good standing, can't allow for this to continue any longer. You'll return the room key to the caretaker first thing in the morning."
Quinn shook his head to that.
"You can't order me to that," he said and took a roll of parchment from a drawer, "I was granted the permission to use this room and turn it into AID's office from Professor Flitwick. You don't have the authority to shut me down."
Umbridge giggled without opening her mouth, which Quinn thought was quite disturbing.
"You don't have the choice, Mr. West," she smiled, "Education Decree Twenty-four grants me, the High Inquisitor, to dismiss any Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs."
Quinn softly laughed a few chuckles before his face immediately lost all joy in an instant. "You don't have that authority, Madam Umbridge."
Umbridge made a half-confused face mixed. "Did you not hear me, Mr. West? Education Decree Twenty-four—"
"Allows the High Inquisitor to disband Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs," Quinn raised his chin and smiled deeply, "But an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is at this moment defined as a regular meeting of, — Quinn raised three fingers, — "three or more students. . . . and AID," — his three fingers turned to two, — "is a two-person venture," Quinn's smile turned lop-sided, "We don't qualify as an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club. . . so as I said — you don't have the authority."
Umbridge's smile turned stiff. The pink-clad woman stilled in her chair as she watched Quinn's smile drop once again into total apathy as he continued to stare at her as if waiting for her to leave.
"I'm the High Inquisitor," she said.
"And your power is over the Professors and from the Education Decrees implemented from the Ministry," said Quinn straightforwardly, "you can't shut AID down because. . . you — don't — have — the — authority."
"You will obey me!" Umbridge's breathing started to quicken as her voice rose shriller and louder.
"You can't make me."
Umbridge's vision started to turn red as she began to shake with fury.
"I'm the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. YOU WILL OBEY ME!" she was yelling by the end of her sentence.
Quinn once again shook his head in disagreement. "You're on sabbatical. You don't have that authority. Even if you did, you still wouldn't have any power over me. I'm not a criminal or in trouble with the law, after all."
"Detention! Detention! Detention for the entire month!" yelled Umbridge, her voice turning harshly high.
"Get an Education Decree, and then we will talk about shutting me down," said Quinn laughing casually before getting up, "Come on, Madam Umbridge. Let's go and get this over with."
"What?" said Umbridge acidly.
"I was going to your detention punishment," Quinn pointed his fake wand up, and the MLEs dimmed, "but now, I'm going to have them annulled."
"You can't do that," the she-toad scoffed.
"But, I can," Quinn walked to the door and held it open, "come on, let's see who's correct, you or me," he grinned, "or do you think I'm in the right here and your detention was out of malice."
"No! Of course not," said Umbridge harrumphing, "let's go and see this farce over. I want to see what nonsense you're talking about."
"After you," said Quinn, gesturing her to exit first, "I don't feel safe and am worried you'll hex me in the back. Not that I would be able to defend myself — you haven't taught me anything that would allow me to do so."
. . .
In a classroom in the Charms wing of Hogwarts, fifth-year lions and serpents listened to Filius Flitwick, a Master of Charms, and the Charms Professor at Hogwarts as he guided them through the theory behind the Growth Charm — a charm that allowed the user to increase the size of an object.
"Children, please take note as to not confuse the incantation of the Growth Charm for that of the Color Changing Charm — I have seen many students make this particular mistake in their OWLs and lose marks in practicals where losing marks isn't warranted one bit," said Flitwick from his spot behind the teacher's podium, standing on a stack of enlarged books, "and please, I say this time and time again, please don't hesitate about asking me questions and solving any doubts you might have."
There was a loud knock on the door, and before anyone could even turn to look, a shrill voice pierced everyone's year.
"Filius! I would like to talk to you. Would you please step out!"
Every pair of eyes turned to the door to see Umbridge standing at the threshold, arms crossed with foot tapping against the floor, looking absolutely livid.
"Dolores. . . I'm in the middle of a class," said Flitwick sighing, "you can meet me in the office when I'm free. I would like you to leave now; I want to continue teaching."
"This is important!" said Umbridge heatedly.
"I'm sure it can wait," but Flitwick didn't share the sentiment.
Gryffindors and Slytherin watched as Umbridge's face grew red, and just when everyone was about to think that she was about to blow up, another voice from outside the classroom spoke up.
"Let me try," everyone watched as Quinn West came into view, "Professor, may I have a moment of your time. It will only take a minute," he then turned to the class and bowed his head politely, "Hello, everyone, I hope I'm not disturbing your close. Sorry, but I will need the Professor for just a bit."
Faced with the same request once again but from another person who also turned out to be his favorite student, Flitwick jumped down from the stack of books.
"Of course, Quinn," said the half-goblin in his squeaky voice. He turned to his class, "I will be back in a moment; please complete your notes; we will start casting the charm when I return."
As Flitwick, Umbridge, and Quinn went out; inside the classroom, Ron turned to Harry and asked, "What do you think that was about?"
"I have no idea," said the bespectacled Potter.
"Umbridge didn't look happy, that's for sure," said Hermione, but then a thought flashed into her mind, "Quinn didn't tell Umbridge about DA, did he?"
"What rubbish are you talking about. Of course, he didn't," said Ivy in instant denial. "But, I'm curious what they are talking about," she stood up, "I will go listen what's it about."
"Ivy! Wait, don't go!" but Hermione's efforts went unheeded as Ivy sneaked to beside the door, listening to what was going on.
Outside, Flitwick looked up at Quinn and asked, "Now, what's this about?" The half-goblin acted as if he couldn't see Umbridge fuming.
"I'm here to contest an unjust detention," he nudged his chin to Umbridge.
"He lies!" hissed Umbridge, "he refuses to call me Professor even after my countless times asking. My detention is just, and he will follow it!"
"Quinn, is she telling the truth?" asked Flitwick, ignoring the menace to society.
"I did no such thing, Professor Flitwick," said Quinn innocently, "you be the witness of my character, Professor. Have in all my years at Hogwarts ever failed to give respect to the faculty? I have always given respect where it's due," — Quinn faced Umbridge with a hurt expression — "Professor Umbridge, I know that you're angry, but I couldn't just stand still and watch the Educational Decree's integrity be damaged by someone using abusing them. . . . even if that someone is as prestigious as you, the High Inquisitor."
Flitwick's pointed ears twitched at Quinn's words. "Quinn, what do you mean by Education Decree being abused."
"Don't listen to him!" said Umbridge shrieking, "he's lying!"
"Professor Umbridge came into my office saying to shut down AID immediately because it went against Educational Decree Twenty-four, but then I politely pointed out that AID didn't come under the specified definition of Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs. . . but then. . ."
When Quinn trailed off, Flitwick stepped closer and urged.
"Don't be afraid, Quinn. I will not let injustice fall upon you," said the Ravenclaw head of the house.
Quinn 'diffidently' glanced at Umbridge before continuing, "S-She threatened me with her Senior Undersecretary position. I could only bring her here — I'm sorry if I brought you trouble, Professor. . . . I know she's the High Inquisitor."
"You don't need to worry about me, Quinn," said Flitwick, standing taller, "you don't need to worry about me," he frowned towards Umbridge. "Quinn, I believe you. I officially annul your detention; you're free to go."
"You can't do that!" yelled Umbridge.
"I can, and I'm doing it," said Flitwick in a no-nonsense tone, "this detention wasn't given in your class — Any detention assigned outside of a class can be reviewed by Head of House, and I with that authority annul this detention."
"You believe him instead of ME?!"
"Yes, I do. . . I believe my top student of six years who I nominated as a Prefect instead of. . . well, you," Flitwick shrugged, then turned to Quinn, "You can go, Quinn. I will take care of her."
Quinn nodded appreciatively, and as he walked by Umbridge, he sneakily gave her a smirk that only served to infuriate her more.
But before he left, Quinn nonchalantly sneaked into the Charms classroom and stood real close to not one but two eavesdroppers.
"You know, it's not good to listen in on conversations," he smiled, "Ivy, Daphne. . ."
Ivy's eyes widened in surprise, and she hastily turned to see Daphne standing right behind her.
"When! . . how long have you been here?!" said Ivy shocked at Daphne's stealth skills and her failed perception check.
"From the very start," said Daphne rolling her eyes before turning back to Quinn, "Are you alright? It sounded very serious."
"Meh, it's fine," said Quinn off-handedly, "she was trying to throw her weight around; nothing I can't handle."
"Are you sure that was a good move; she will try to make things difficult for you," said Ivy sounding worried.
"Eh, once again nothing I can't handle. . . hmm, but you're right — I might just nip the bud before she becomes extra annoying," said Quinn, seeing the point before looking at both the two girls.
"So, Daphne. Will you be attending the little study group?" he asked.
"Shh!" said Ivy; Umbridge was right outside. "Also, how did you know I asked her?"
"Of course, I know what's going," said Quinn, acting cool and staring deeply into Ivy's eye, "I always know what's going on."
"Astoria must've told him," said Daphne shattering the cool moment. She turned to Ivy and spoke, "Astoria, Tracey, and I will be attending."
"Okay, then you'll have to add your name to the list," said Ivy.
"Ahem, well, I will take a leave before Professor Flitwick comes along," said Quinn clapping his hand, "I need to go back, my break is going to be over soon, and I need to get my book bag from my office. . . I will see you two around."
"Bye-bye," said Ivy while waving her hand and immediately regretted it.
". . . Bye," said Quinn, once again feeling a little confused.
After Quinn left, Ivy turned to Daphne and found the blonde looking at her strangely. She could only avert her eyes and walk away — after all, she was aware of how Daphne felt about Quinn.
That day, the news of the incident spread far and wide in Hogwarts.
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Quinn West - MC - Naw, biatch.
Dolores Umbridge - Pink-toad - She was found shrieking at anything and everything in her path.
Filius Flitwick - Head of House - You ain't touching my fledglings.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - ( . . . )
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