บท 323: Quidditch and Detention

"So, were you considering rejoining the Quidditch team?" Tracey said completely out of the blue, just as Oleandra was about to shovel a spoonful of tomato soup into her mouth.

Oleandra paused, leaving her spoon halfway between her bowl and her mouth.

"What brought this on, all of a sudden?" she responded, before taking a sip of soup. She was rather hungry after all that physical exercise.

"Well, there are two openings on the team, since Derrick and Bole graduated," said the bright-eyed Tracey. "I thought we could, you know, tryout together? Don't you think it would be fun?"

Oleandra had been an on and off member of the Slytherin Quidditch team since her first year; she had led Slytherin to a Quidditch Cup victory in her first and third years, even though Draco had officially replaced her as Seeker in their second year.

"Tracey, you love Quidditch, right?" Oleandra began.

"You say that as if you don't," said Tracey, frowning slightly.

Okay, that had come out wrong.

"I mean," Oleandra corrected herself, "I thought you were more the type to cheer on from the stands, rather than actually play yourself. Besides, do you even have any experience playing Quidditch? Derrick and Bole were Beaters, right?"

"No, but how would I know if I'm any good at it unless I tried?" Tracey pointed out.

"No offence," said Oleandra in disbelief, "But I don't think you've got the arms for it."

"None taken," Tracey said, pouting slightly. "So, are you going to the Beater tryouts with me on Saturday? It's in the evening."

Oleandra considered Tracey's proposal. She had previously played as a Seeker, so it would be quite a change to switch to being a Beater. Practise would take a lot of her time, but at the same time, being a Seeker had really helped her with her hand-eye coordination and her spatial awareness. Maybe Beater training would help her build up some strength to a swing a sword?

"Okay, then," said Oleandra reluctantly. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot."

================================================================

At five to five o'clock, Oleandra left Tracey and Daphne and headed towards Professor Umbridge's office, which was located at the back of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor. On the way there, she ran into Harry, since they were going to the same place.

"Heya, Hero," Oleandra called out to him with her usual greeting.

"Oh, hello," said Harry distractedly. After a few moments, he asked, "What'd you think are the odds Umbridge'd let me skip detention on Friday and let me do it another day?"

"About zero, I think."

"That's pretty much what I thought, too," said Harry glumly. "Still, I gotta try…"

They soon arrived at their destination, and Harry knocked on the door, prompting Professor Umbridge to chant sweetly, "Come in!"

The pair entered her office, which was about as tastefully decorated as when it had been Lockhart's; instead of portraits of himself, the walls were placarded with decorative plates which bore images of kittens on them. Everything was pink, save for the innumerable tea doilies topped with flower vases. Oleandra had never seen so much lace in one place before.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Miss Greengrass," said Professor Umbridge.

Harry did a double-take, having failed to see her at first due to her pink cardigan camouflaging her so well against the pink wallpaper; she hadn't been sitting at her desk, but standing against a wall.

"Evening, Professor Umbridge," said Oleandra, and Harry quickly followed suit.

Harry then made his request to have his Friday detention moved to another day, but of course, he was immediately shut down. It was his punishment for spreading misinformation, Umbridge told him. For a moment there, it looked as though Harry was going to explode in anger again, but he somehow managed to restrain himself.

"There," said Professor Umbridge with her sugary voice, "we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with your quill," she added, as she saw Harry reaching for his bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are." After handing him a black quill, she added, "I want you to write, I must not tell lies,"

"How many times?" Harry inquired.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

Professor Umbridge then walked back to her desk and pulled out a stack of parchments; it looked as though she was about to start grading some homework. Had she forgotten about her?

"What about me?" said Oleandra, pointing to herself.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Umbridge, looking up from her parchments. "Miss Greengrass. It seems to me that you are the real victim in all of this; it would be hardly appropriate for me to punish you for something that isn't your fault, wouldn't it?"

"Is that so?" said Oleandra, raising an eyebrow. What was this woman playing at?

"Oh yes," Professor Umbridge continued. "You are a young lady from a good and reputable family. It is my opinion that you have been fooled by the malicious tongues of our headmaster and his favourite student. Is that not the case?"

It was clear as to what she was getting at: she was trying to divide Dumbledore's forces from within. She was operating under the misconception that Oleandra was a Dumbledore follower…

"Therefore," Professor Umbridge said sweetly, "you need only tell me what it is Dumbledore had you do for him this summer, and then you'll be free to go."

It was the Ministry's view that Dumbledore was trying to supplant Fudge using Voldemort fear-mongering; which meant that they now believed that Oleandra had faked her death under Dumbledore's direct orders.

In the Ministry's eyes, if Dumbledore was indeed behind a web of conspiracies to replace the Minister, then it followed that there must have been a reason for him to arrange for Oleandra to fake her death. After all, who would be on their guard against someone they thought dead? And if that was indeed the case, then what had Dumbledore ordered Oleandra to do? That was the crux of the matter!

The premise was for this line of questioning was wrong, but that did not mean that Oleandra wanted her illegal summer activities to come to light!