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"But… Quidditch…" blustered the tall Slytherin boy named Bletchley. Someone seemed to kick him from behind. His fierce expression shifted to confusion. He shut his mouth, unwillingly.
Umbridge spoke gently. "Yes, Quidditch. I heard Mr. Flint was gravely injured? My dear, you wouldn't believe how dismayed the Ministry was to hear the news! We felt something must be done…"
"Flint?" Bletchley repeated, stupidly.
Katie snorted. "Right. The Ministry should pass a law forbidding people from jumping off their brooms. So vital it requires a High Inquisitor to assist Madam Hooch after all this time."
"Miss Bell!" Anthony cut in.
But Umbridge had already turned to Katie, her wide mouth stretched in a satisfied smile. Anthony realized it immediately. She'd been waiting for someone to argue.
"Miss Bell, is it?" Umbridge said in her girlish, high-pitched voice. "You have an opinion?"
Katie glanced at Anthony. She plowed ahead anyway. "None at all. I'm just surprised… Let's see, how long ago was that? A year? Two? Good grief, I thought you were at least talking about Davies!"
Umbridge looked even more pleased. "Thank you for reminding me of Mr. Davies's plight. The Ministry was most distressed by such a terrible occurrence… Of course, precisely because we take it so seriously, I would never confuse it with 'Quidditch'—a Dark magic injury. My, you wouldn't believe our shock upon hearing the news. Yet, regrettably, some seem intent on disguising it as a mere Quidditch accident." She spoke softly to Katie, who was glaring. "I'm sure you're a clever girl. You must realize you've been misled?"
Professor Kettleburn answered before Katie could.
"Don't talk nonsense here," he said stiffly. "This is my classroom. My teaching time should not be wasted by you. I said leave."
Umbridge didn't even look at him. She addressed the students—mainly the Slytherins. "Remember, I am your friend. I came to Hogwarts to make this school better. Some may find such changes difficult, but incorrect branches must be pruned for the educational tree to grow strong. Headmaster Dumbledore—don't misunderstand, he is certainly a powerful wizard—but we must regrettably note he has his areas of… less expertise…"
"I said enough!" Professor Kettleburn raised his walking stick again.
Umbridge eyed the stick warily. But she smiled again instantly, locking eyes with Kettleburn, her quill hovering over her clipboard.
Students swiveled their heads, watching Kettleburn and Umbridge. Beneath the tension, Anthony sensed a silent current of anticipation. Excitement.
A soft, gnawing sound broke the silence. The Pooka huddled in its corner, chewing its nails.
Anthony drew a breath. He nudged Hagrid. "Class is almost over, isn't it?"
"Huh?" Hagrid looked confused. "What time is it?"
A gentle rustle. Umbridge calmly put her quill away. She nodded at Professor Kettleburn, smiling. "You'll receive your inspection results next Monday."
She hugged the clipboard to her chest, surveyed the students, and grinned wider. Anthony remembered Harry and Ron's description—"a toad about to eat someone"—and fought to keep his expression neutral. "I wish you all a pleasant day," Umbridge said.
She turned and walked toward the castle.
Professor Kettleburn's chest heaved. He glared at Umbridge's pink retreating back, took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then slammed his walking stick on the ground. He turned away impatiently.
"The Pooka," he said, tone hard, staring at the creature, "is a guardian of horses. Nests in hayricks."
The gnawing stopped. Anthony looked at it too. It was covering its face with its paws again.
But almost no one else was watching the Pooka. Not even Hagrid cared about the lesson. He just watched Umbridge walk away.
"What did she mean, Henry?" he asked, bewildered. "What was she saying?"
Anthony sighed. "Nothing, Hagrid. She was saying the Pooka should eat pork."
The Pooka kept its face covered, as if it never wanted to lower its paws again.
"That makes no sense," Hagrid said.
"Exactly," Professor Kettleburn said indignantly. "I'll talk to Albus. If he's decided to let this damned inspector meddle with school matters, I'll fill her office with salamanders and Jarveys."
"Professor—" Anthony said, glancing toward the students.
Several heads had turned back, staring absently at the Pooka, clearly listening. When Kettleburn looked over, a few studied the Pooka with redoubled diligence, counting its fingers ("Four," Anthony noted, amused) or discussing its habitat ("Dorset and Southern Ireland," Kettleburn said testily, "I said that.").
"Alright, nothing more to see there," Professor Kettleburn called to the students still whispering, still watching the castle gates where Umbridge had vanished. "We've covered it. This is a Pooka. It distrusts humans. Gets anxious in crowds. Now, move closer. But not too close. Yes, that distance."
Anthony moved closer too, curious. Hagrid stood nearby, Fang scratching his ear with a hind leg.
"Observe the front paws. Look at these fingers—the Pooka digs with them. See the soil under the nails? It's covering its face, so come around this side… Yes, crouch down, look from here—see? That's its nose. The Pooka relies on it…"
The bell rang.
Professor Kettleburn stopped dead. The students stared at him.
"Fine. Homework: an essay on Pooka living habits. No less than eleven inches," Professor Kettleburn said irritably. "Submit it before next class. Dismissed!" He watched the students leave, then turned to complain to Anthony and Hagrid. "The last time I didn't finish what I wanted in class was fifty years ago! If not for that Umbridge interrupting…"
…
After calming Professor Kettleburn, Hagrid lost his enthusiasm for showing Anthony the half-built zoo. With Anthony and Kettleburn explaining, he finally understood. Umbridge was accusing Dumbledore of shielding a Dark magic user (Anthony's tone was very level), hinting Dumbledore hired many unqualified professors, and perhaps wasn't suited to run the school.
"Slander! Insult!" Hagrid boomed on the way back. "Dumbledore's the best Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had!" His voice startled birds nesting near the forest's edge.
"I know, I know," Anthony said. "Don't be angry, Hagrid."
"The best, Henry. The greatest," Hagrid insisted. "Dumbledore's a great man. I won't stand anyone bad-mouthing him in front of me. When everyone believed Riddle, only he believed I was innocent. Helped me stay at Hogwarts…"
"You flatter me, Hagrid," a voice came from behind them. "My cheeks must be glowing."
Anthony and Hagrid started. They turned.
Dumbledore was walking from the direction of Hogsmeade, his long beard and loose hair swaying in the wind. Even in the dim light, his pointed hat embroidered with silver leaves seemed to glow.
"Professor Dumbledore!" both Anthony and Hagrid said.
"Good afternoon," Dumbledore smiled, joining them. "Since I overheard such praise, I suppose today isn't entirely unlucky."
"Unlucky?" Anthony asked.
"The weather isn't the best sort. A button from my favorite robe has gone missing. The honey mead at the Hog's Head Inn was sold out again," Dumbledore said. "As a substitute, the barman served me gin instead of the honeyed lemon water I requested. But enough of my complaints. And you? I hope your day has been reasonably pleasant."
"We've been unlucky too," Hagrid said.
"Extremely fortunate," Anthony said.
A spark of interest lit Dumbledore's eyes. "Dear me. How so?"
"Umbridge, that—" Hagrid swallowed a word. "Sorry, Professor. Umbridge, that inspector, spouting nonsense everywhere. She interrupted Professor Kettleburn's lesson. Said you weren't fit to be Headmaster—"
His large hands waved in the air, his voice rising with anger, rumbling as he told Dumbledore everything. Dumbledore listened, smiling, tilting his head to look at Hagrid and nodding encouragingly now and then—as if Hagrid weren't recounting a provocation but delivering a fascinating speech.
When Hagrid finished, Dumbledore turned to Anthony.
"And you, Henry? I'm glad at least one of us is fortunate."
Anthony shrugged. "Professor Umbridge seems to have forgotten I have Muggle Studies in the mornings. She hasn't inspected me yet."
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