bacchusnovels Chapter 538 Umbridge's Interrogation
Chapter 538 Umbridge's Interrogation
Chapter 534 Umbridge's Interrogation
Sean stood on the podium, speechless as he looked at Umbridge standing at the classroom door.
really.
He was the first one to undergo surgery.
Good morning, Professor Phillips.
Umbridge said with a fake smile.
"I'm sure you received my notification, right? It said I would be checking your class times, dates, and content."
Received it, fifteen minutes ago, during breakfast in the auditorium.
Sean had already thrown that notice into the trash.
"Of course, I'm glad you could check my class," Sean said gently, then asked Luna, who was sitting in the front row, to bring Umbridge a chair.
This class is for Luna's Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff classes.
Umbridge smiled as she took the chair, pulled it to the side of the podium—the kind of "left and right guardian" positions that were usually assigned in most classrooms during her school days—and sat down. She then took out paper and pen from her bag, eagerly awaiting the start of class.
This scene—if you took a picture and captioned it: "The thirst for knowledge of an adult who has never been to school on their first day of class," probably no one would doubt the authenticity of the caption.
"Today, we're talking about Muggle technology."
To prevent Umbridge from causing trouble, Shawn chose something that was more science-oriented and completely outside of Umbridge's knowledge.
"For example, the telephone."
The origin of the telephone, the principle of the telephone, and the history of telephone development —
Sure enough, Umbridge looked somewhat confused.
I want to find fault, but I don't know where to start.
Circuit? Wire? What are these things?
"Please allow me to interrupt, Professor Phillips."
Umbridge still made his move.
"What's the point of this phone? Is it just for communication? We have owls, which are much more efficient. We don't need this nonsense, so is there any real point in you saying all this?"
Sean stared at her in astonishment, as if she were an idiot.
"But—our class is called Muggle Studies," and it's about the items Muggles need.
"But they don't matter, do they?"
"Don't you need to communicate with people?"
"What do you mean?"
"If even the means of communication aren't important, why don't you return your owl to the pet store and communicate with others face-to-face from now on, instead of by letter?"
'
Umbridge, looking embarrassed, wrote something on the parchment in his hand.
"Luna, could you please distribute this handout to everyone?"
"Today we'll focus on the structure of the telephone and its role in modern Muggle society."
"The telephone has a unique feature that allows people in different places to communicate in real time with almost no delay, which is a huge advancement for Muggles."
"....
—"
Umbridge dropped out halfway through the lesson.
The reason is simple: negative comments about Sean have been meticulously recorded on the parchment.
There's no time left to curse Sean on the parchment, so why not leave?
The next course to be "inspected" is Flitwick's Spells course.
Compared to the inspection of Sean, this class was relatively uneventful, which may be related to the fact that most of the students in the class were seventh graders who were about to graduate.
Umbridge simply huddled in the corner, constantly taking notes.
Flitwick didn't take Umbridge seriously at all, treating her merely as a guest. Umbridge simply asked a student a few casual questions, inquiring about their usual classes, and nothing more.
The third lesson that needs to be inspected is Trelawney's lesson.
Trelawney's courses are ranked so high not because they are particularly popular.
The main reason is that Harry and the others happen to have a get out of class that ends today.
As the three children sat in the last row of the dimly lit classroom, preparing to take out their papers and assignments, Hermione suddenly shuddered and followed their gaze.
Umbridge appeared at the door.
The atmosphere in the classroom instantly dropped several degrees; no one spoke.
Trelawney, who was collecting classwork, turned around in surprise when she heard the whispers around her disappear.
"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney. I believe—"
It's all the same set of rhetoric.
Only the time and the people involved have changed.
Trelawney nodded with a stern face upon Umbridge's arrival, appearing quite displeased.
The reason for her unhappiness was perhaps that she was taking a nap in her office at noon when she was suddenly woken up by a rapid knocking on the door, and then received a notice that she had to attend a class in Umbridge that afternoon.
"Today we will still be learning about dreams."
"Please divide into pairs and, with the help of the 'Dream Interpretation Guide,' interpret the scenes that your partner has recently seen in their dreams."
Umbridge had already quietly approached the students and was listening to their conversation.
"Quickly come up with a dream."
Harley glanced at the restless Umbridge out of the corner of his eye, then quickly pursed his lips and whispered to Ron.
"That old toad might be heading this way."
“I already said that last time,” Ron protested. “It’s your turn this time. Say one.”
"Oh, I don't know—" Harry said anxiously, unable to recall any dreams he'd had in the last few days. "I'll just say I dreamt—that I put Snape in my cauldron and drowned him. Okay, that'll do—"
Ron chuckled with delight as he opened his book, "The Dream Interpretation Guide."
"Okay, we'll use your age, the date you had the dream, and the number of letters in the keyword—is the keyword 'drowning,' 'crucible,' or 'Snape'?"
"It's okay, just pick one."
Harry said, then risked glancing behind him again.
Umbridge was standing behind Trelawney, and as Trelawney asked Neville how his dream journal was going, she kept scribbling on the parchment.
"Which night did you have this dream again?" Ron asked while engrossed in his calculations.
"I don't know, maybe last night. You can choose whichever day you want."
Harry told him, while desperately trying to hear what Umbridge was saying to Trelawney.
Umbridge made a few more scribbles on the parchment.
"So—how long have you been in this position, to be precise?"
Trelawney glared at her, paused slightly, seemingly finding the question not so abrupt and having no reason not to respond, and then angrily replied, "Almost sixteen years."
"It's been quite a while," Umbridge said coldly, making a few more scribbles on her parchment. "So, Professor Dumbledore appointed you?"
"That's right," Trelawney said crisply.
Another of Dumbledore's accomplices has been caught.
Umbridge continued writing, a cold smile on her face.
"Are you the great-great-granddaughter of the famous prophet Cassandra Trelawney?"
"Yes," Trelawney replied, tilting her head slightly.
Umbridge's pen made a few strokes on the parchment.
"But I think—and you can correct me if I'm wrong—you're the first person in your family to have a second sight since Cassandra, aren't you?"
"These things often skip generations—well—sometimes even three generations," Trelawney angrily defended herself.
Umbridge's toad-like mouth grinned even wider.
"Okay, I wonder if you'd be willing to make a prediction for me, hmm?"
Now, not only the three little ones are secretly watching and eavesdropping, but most of the students in the classroom are staring blankly at Trelawney.
Trelawney was furious at Umbridge's demands, looking as if she had been insulted.
"The Heavenly Eye does not look by command!" she said.
"I understand," Umbridge said softly, making a few more scribbles on her parchment.
"I—but—but—wait a minute!"
Seeing Umbridge's actions, Trelawney panicked.
"I mean—I think I really saw something—it's about you—ah, I sensed something—something black—something extremely dangerous—"
After a moment of silence, Umbridge simply watched Trelawney scribble a few more lines on the parchment.
"Okay, if that's all you can do at best—"
He turned and left without a second thought.
The reason, of course, is that the parchment was filled with notes.
Perhaps I should bring more parchment next time?
So, that concludes Umbridge's schedule for today.
It wasn't that she didn't want to continue investigating—to be honest, causing trouble for others was a very enjoyable thing—no matter how many times she did it, she never got tired of it.
However, she has another class next period.
As I was preparing the books for the next lesson, an owl slowly flew in through the window.
Calling it an owl isn't quite accurate.
Because this owl didn't look like an owl at all; it was so fat that one wondered if it could even fulfill its duty of delivering messages.
Umbridge took a letter from it.
Unfold the letter, but what was written on it remains unknown.
However—through the dressing mirror next to him, one could vaguely see the signature at the end of the letter: Assistant Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley.
"Ginny of Gryffindor?" she murmured to herself.
Twenty minutes later, Zhan, on the other side, also finished his get out of class.
The three children rushed to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and when they arrived, Umbridge was already sitting there, seemingly having been waiting for them for a long time.
"Last lesson we finished Chapter One. Today I want you all to turn to page nineteen and begin reading Chapter Two, General Defense Theory and Its Origins." Do not talk while reading.
After saying that, she sat down behind the podium.
I don't know what I'm writing.
Amidst the rustling of pages turning, the Defense Against the Dark Arts class finally came to an end.
In the evening, after dinner, Umbridge returned to his office.
A moment later, the door opened slightly, almost too quiet to hear unless it was very quiet.
"Please come in," Umbridge said.
"Professor, you wanted to see me?" Ginny asked Umbridge, somewhat puzzled.
Why was Umbridge looking for her? She hadn't done anything wrong.
"Sit down, Miss Weasley."
Umbridge looked at Ginny, his gaze softening, but to Ginny, this softening appeared terrifying. She slowly sat down where Umbridge gestured, feeling quite uncomfortable.
"Percy is a good person."
Umbridge commented as follows.
"He works diligently and conscientiously at the Ministry of Magic, and he has a bright future."
Ginny was even more confused as she listened to Umbridge praising her brother.
"Percy told me he has a sweet and adorable sister at Hogwarts, and he met her today."
"I don't think he exaggerated."
""
"I have a task for you."
"What mission?" Ginny bit her lower lip, already having a vague idea of what was going on.
The following day, Umbridge's patrol was still ongoing.
For the three little ones, what they look forward to most is watching Umbridge examine the Transfiguration or Potions classes.
The ever-strict Professor McGonagall and Snape would never let Umbridge get away with it.
As they wished, there was a transformation lesson today.
Professor McGonagall strode into the classroom, seemingly oblivious to Umbridge's presence.
"Alright," she said, and the classroom immediately fell silent. "Mr. Finnigan, please come and hand out the homework. Miss Brown, please take this box of mice. Don't be silly, girl, they won't bite you—give one to each student."
"Cough, cough."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
Umbridge coughed softly, the same silly cough she used to interrupt Dumbledore on her first night of school.
Professor McGonagall pretended not to hear.
"Alright, students, listen carefully—Dean Thomas, if you keep messing with that mouse like that, I'll put you in solitary confinement—Now, most of you can successfully recite the Vanishing Charm and make the snail disappear. Even those who still have a bit of snail shell left have grasped the key points of this spell. Today, we're going to…"
"Cough, cough."
Professor McGonagall turned around, her eyebrows furrowed, her gaze sharp, like two long, chilling straight lines.
"What?" she said impatiently, looking at Umbridge.
"Professor, I just wanted to confirm if you received my note, which stated the date and time of the inquiry regarding your class attendance."
"Obviously I got it," Professor McGonagall replied bluntly. "Otherwise, how would I know what you're doing in my classroom? You're wasting my time, Professor Umbridge." With that, she turned sharply away from Professor Umbridge, and many students exchanged glances.
As expected of Professor McGonagall.
The thought that Professor McGonagall would treat Umbridge with the same stern attitude as everyone else made the scolding they had endured much easier to bear.
"As I just said: today, we're going to practice the more difficult Vanishing Charm," McGonagall continued. "Alright, Vanishing Charm one—"
"Cough, cough."
Professor McGonagall turned around again and began to criticize Umbridge.
"I don't understand, Professor Umbridge. How can you understand my usual teaching methods if you keep interrupting me? You should know that I generally don't allow others to speak when I'm speaking."
"————"
The scene was extremely awkward, accompanied by snickers from below.