章節 333: No One Has Ever Expected the British Inquisition

Oleandra harboured no illusions that Monday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class would be the last time she'd see Umbridge this week, and she would soon be proven right the very next day, when Umbridge came to inspect two of Oleandra's classes; Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures.

Professor McGonagall had set Oleandra's class of fifth years the task of Vanishing a mouse. Mice, as vertebrates, were much more difficult to make disappear than snails, which they had already graduated from. Of course, there were still some stragglers who simply possessed no Transfiguration talent, but Oleandra was no longer one of them, thank goodness.

Umbridge sat behind Professor McGonagall and observed the class, just as she had done previously with Divination. However, Professor McGonagall seemed much less impressed by Umbridge's new Inquisitor title than Professor Trelawney had been— perhaps she thought that she had nothing to fear, as she had mastered her subject— as opposed to the Divination teacher, who thought herself to be a fraud.

Interestingly, Umbridge avoided pushing Professor McGonagall as much as she had with Professor Trelawney. As a rule of thumb, it was safer to avoid offending a Transfiguration grandmaster for no good reason— lest one find oneself transformed into a tea cosy without the slightest inkling of how it could have ever happened.

The body horror aspect of Transfiguration was quite the deterrent...

Oleandra's thoughts wandered at the precise moment she released her magic, accidentally Vanishing Neville Longbottom instead of her mouse. Luckily for Oleandra, Professor McGonagall just happened to have her back turned at the precise moment she wiped Neville out of existence— for once, Oleandra was glad to have Umbridge present in class, if only to distract Professor McGonagall!

Oleandra just barely managed to bring the poor boy back from nothingness without too many missing bits, before Hermione's scream caused both teachers to whirl back around. It was a good thing that Vanishing humans was considered to be an impossible feat, because McGonagall refused to believe Hermione's account, much to Oleandra's relief.

The more complex the being, the harder it was to Vanish. Since Wizards and Muggles were at the top of the food chain, Vanishing them was supposed to be impossible, but that was discounting the fact that Oleandra was more than human, and that Neville was arguably only barely more magical than a Squib in his present state!

When the class ended, Umbridge followed them outside the castle to their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. There, Umbridge showed a particular interest in learning why Professor Hagrid had taken a leave of absence— Umbridge must have figured that Professor Dumbledore had sent him off on a secret mission, just like he had with Oleandra (he hadn't).

High Inquisitor Umbridge must have been under a lot of pressure from the Ministry, because she was getting paranoid— seeing plots and conspiracies everywhere. It almost made Oleandra want to laugh: Hagrid, a secret agent? Ha! He was the least stealthy man she knew!

No, Oleandra thought to herself, Umbridge was definitely searching in the wrong places. Dumbledore had no more sent Hagrid off on a mission than he had ordered her to join up with a subversive Muggle-Wizard alliance in France! Of course, Oleandra was quite wrong, but she wouldn't end up finding that out until much later— after everything changed…

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"No Umbridge today," Tracey remarked, as they left the Herbology greenhouses.

It was a rather misty September morning; neither warm nor cold, but just right. Today was already Wednesday— only two more days left until the weekend. Oleandra's shoulders were still aching from all the sword swings the Sorting Hat had made her do the previous evening. At this rate, her arms would have already fallen off by the time June arrived…

"Too afraid to get that iconic Dragon dung smell on that horrid pink cardigan of hers, I suppose," Oleandra offered, massaging her neck and her shoulders with one hand. "But the day's not even halfway done yet— I'm sure she'll turn up at some point."

Oleandra would rather have been wrong, but speak of the devil and he doth appear; when the trio turned up to their next class, they found the High Inquisitor in the middle of an argument with their Study of Ancient Runes, Professor Bathsheda Babbling.

"Don't you have a class of your own to teach?" Professor Babbling said frostily. "To think a Hogwarts teacher would have so much free time on their hands…"

"As. I. Was. Saying.," said Umbridge sweetly. "Have you not received my note informing you of the date and time of your inspection?"

"I only just arrived this morning, so I wouldn't have," Professor Babbling said, before adding in bewilderment, "And what's all this about an inspection? What in the name of Merlin are you—"

Umbridge fished an official-looking document from her purse and offered it to Professor Babbling, whose eyes gradually grew wider and wider as she read her way through it. Looking quite dazed, she mechanically offered the stamped document back to Umbridge, who folded it carefully, before storing it back into her purse.

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-three grants the Ministry the power to name a High Inquisitor," said Umbridge triumphantly. "I have every right to inspect your class, as the document you have just read very clearly states."

"So it seems," said Professor Babbling, frowning slightly.

As usual, Umbridge took a seat behind the teacher's desk and took out her clipboard, ready to take notes. Sitting next to Daphne was Hermione, who was already warming up her shoulder, getting ready to raise her arm the instant she came up with a question.

"Well then, shall we get on with it?" said Professor Babbling brightly. "Good morning, students, and welcome back to—"

"Hem, hem."

Professor Babbling slowly turned around to look at Umbridge, who'd been the source of the 'hem, hem.'

"Was there something you forgot to ask?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, there was, actually," said Umbridge in honeyed tones. "I was simply wondering why you had missed the first week of classes."

Oleandra had also been asking herself the same question. Bathsheda Babbling was the complete opposite of Rubeus Hagrid, the man mountain himself. Young, normal-looking for the most part, yet rather handsome, for a Witch. Quick-witted and quick-tongued; Oleandra could easily picture her as an MI6 operative, or as a Scotland Yard Detective. Perfect for a Dumbledore-issued secret mission?

"I fail to see how that is relevant," said Professor Babbling flatly.

"Oh, but it is," Umbridge assured her. "As High Inquisitor, it is my responsibility to make sure that the students receive a proper education; as a teacher, you simply cannot miss a class without justification. Well…?"