[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 39

The platform was brightly lit this time, with Aurors stationed around the perimeter. 

“Everyone off,” ordered Marina Nikolaevna, and the prefects, already familiar with the protocol, began leading the first-year students, lining them up and counting them. “First-years, roll call!” 

Everything was as it had been the previous year, except this time the first-years crossing the lake were accompanied not by her and Grubbly-Plank but by four Aurors. 

She didn't feel like bouncing along in a carriage and called out, “Letty? Take me to the castle.”

Hogwarts welcomed Marina Nikolaevna with warmth, light, and a now-familiar coziness. 

“Madam Umbridge!” Filch hurried toward her across the hall, and she was surprised: the old caretaker was impeccably dressed, not in his usual outdated, dreadful suit but in a modern one, even wearing a robe that made him look respectable, not like a scarecrow. “Madam Umbridge, so you've returned after all, despite all the talk...” 

“What talk, Mr. Filch?” she asked, unfastening her traveling cloak, which he accepted with utmost respect. 

“Oh, just talk... May I escort you?” 

“Of course. There’s still time before the students arrive; I’ll have time to change for dinner.” 

“So, Madam Umbridge, they've finally recognized we're not third-rate, then?” he said, following close behind. “Squibs, I mean?” 

“Indeed,” Marina Nikolaevna replied, noticing one of the Ministry pamphlets in Filch’s hands. Over the past month, countless pamphlets had been published: “Squibs: Lies Through the Ages,” “My Husband is a Squib,” “Living with Wizards: A Squib’s Story”—these pieces were rather monotonous, but Percy Weasley had managed to capture the public’s interest, and they sold in huge numbers. Moreover, after the first wave of revelations, The Daily Prophet was inundated with letters, prompting the decision to print personal stories in supplements. All of them declared the same thing: having a squib in the family was neither a disgrace nor a condemnation.

“I wrote to The Prophet, too,” Filch announced. “I'm an old squib, but I never sat idle or turned to the Muggles, though I could have. Hogwarts practically runs on my efforts! Would I be able to manage if I were completely talentless?” 

“No, you wouldn’t, Mr. Filch,” she assured him. 

“And my predecessor, Mr. Pringle... he was even more skilled than me, and when he punished troublemakers, he really punished them!” Filch sliced the air with the edge of his hand. “I should find him, maybe he’s still alive... He’d have stories to tell!” 

“Then write to him and ask. Perhaps he knows others?” Marina Nikolaevna suggested. 

“He probably does, since he brought me here,” the caretaker nodded. “He must’ve seen something in me... But enough about myself! Madam Umbridge, there’s a matter... We have a new teacher!” 

“Who?” she frowned, as she had heard nothing of the sort. 

“Oh, you surely know him,” Filch whispered, leaning in, “Horace Slughorn... He arrived just yesterday, and I helped him choose a room. So fussy: this wasn’t right, that wasn’t right, the window view was no good... He wanted your quarters, but I said they were occupied! Then he eyed Madam Ingeborg’s, but she’s been here for a week now, and good luck approaching her...”

“How peculiar, Mr. Filch,” Marina Nikolaevna said quietly. “No one informed me that Slughorn was coming back. He’s been retired for ages!” 

“Said the headmaster practically begged him to return,” Filch reported, “and he couldn’t resist... But what he’s going to teach, I have no idea. Tried to find out, but no luck! He and the headmaster whispered, but I couldn’t catch a word...” 

“And Professor Snape?” she asked quickly. 

“Oh, he just returned today, right before you, about an hour and a half ago, and went straight to his chambers,” Filch murmured. “He probably doesn’t know yet; he’s been away for about two weeks. Oh, what will come of this?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Marina Nikolaevna squeezed his dry, wrinkled hand, “but thank you, Mr. Filch. Forewarned is forearmed. What would I do without you!” 

‘Be caught off-guard when the headmaster introduced Slughorn to the hall,’ she thought to herself. ‘But what is Dumbledore up to? There are no vacancies at Hogwarts, so what will our old head of house be doing? Well, I’ll find out!’ 

“Always glad, Madam Umbridge,” Filch said and sniffled audibly. 

“You... you treat us like people... Excuse me...” 

“Alright, alright, Mr. Filch,” she said, shaking his hand again. “Take care of your nerves. Thank you for the information. Now go, you’re probably needed in the Great Hall!” He nodded and left, muttering to himself, while Marina Nikolaevna entered her chambers—Letty had already unpacked her things—and began changing quickly for the welcoming feast. A strict outfit, neat hairstyle, a touch of makeup, and a dab of perfume... Professor Umbridge was ready for battle. 

___________________________

When she arrived, the first-years hadn’t yet come, but the professors were already taking their seats at the table. 

“Dolores, over here!” called Sprout, and Marina Nikolaevna sat between her and Grubbly-Plank. 

“You look wonderful, as if you’ve had the best summer!” 

“You look great as well, Pomona,” she assured. 

“Wilhelmina, what happened to your arm?” 

“Oh, some itty bitty thing bit me,” Grubbly-Plank waved it off. “Almost healed now. Such an adorable thing! I’ll show it to you if you’d like, it’s completely tame now...” 

“Just don’t follow in Hagrid’s footsteps!” 

“How could you think that?” Grubbly-Plank said, offended. “Training and discipline, that’s what matters! Ingeborg, how was your summer?” 

“Eventful,” she said, watching the students and smiling. “Visited an old acquaintance, if you know who I mean.” 

“Ah, really, at your age…” mumbled Sprout. “Dolores, I managed to save a couple of cherries and a tiny apple from the birds! You haven’t seen how the garden grew this summer, have you? Oh! Tomorrow morning you’ll see, it’s beautiful...” 

“It’s true, it turned out wonderfully; in the spring, it will be like a fairy tale!” confirmed Flitwick, climbing onto his chair. “Oh, my... Look who’s here!”

Dumbledore had entered the Great Hall, holding Horace Slughorn’s arm—a bald, mustachioed, walrus-like man—and seated him beside himself. Snape slipped in behind them like a shadow, seating himself at a distance. His face was unreadable, but he looked even gloomier than usual. 

“Horace!” McGonagall exclaimed. “What a delightful surprise!” 

“Oh, Professor Slughorn!” Marina Nikolaevna folded her hands over her chest. “What brings you here?” 

“Hush, hush, all in due time,” the headmaster calmed them. “Let’s begin the Sorting! Minerva, if you please...”

The hat sang its latest tune, and a line of first-years stretched out to hear their fate. 

“What is the meaning of this?” McGonagall said sharply when the ceremony ended. “Nine... nine to Gryffindor, fifteen to Slytherin, twenty to Ravenclaw, and twenty-two to Hufflepuff! This... I don’t recall ever seeing such numbers!” 

“What do we do with them now?” muttered Grubbly-Plank. 

“For a change, I suggest joint classes for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin,” Marina Nikolaevna said with a smile. 

“And Slytherin with Ravenclaw. That would help reduce conflicts...” 

“A sensible idea,” agreed Flitwick, chuckling. “Truly, I don’t recall such a thing!”

Marina Nikolaevna knew the prefects had played a part, but she said nothing. That wasn’t important now! She looked at Dumbledore’s right hand: it was black and appeared lifeless. The whole hall saw it, whispers arose, and realizing what was being noticed, the headmaster simply smiled and pulled a purple-gold sleeve over his injured hand.

Marina Nikolaevna caught Snape's glance. He gave a barely perceptible nod and touched his elbow with a finger—it was clear that the curse was still within control. 

“Well then!” said Dumbledore as the feast came to an end. “To our new students—welcome! And to the returning ones—welcome back! A year full of magic awaits you…” 

He went on until he reached the main point: “And we are delighted to welcome a new member to our teaching staff this year, Professor Slughorn!” 

Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, and his belly casting a shadow over the table. “... my former colleague, who has agreed to return to his old position as Potions Master.” 

“Potions?” 

“Potions?” The word echoed through the hall. 

“And Professor Snape, meanwhile,” Dumbledore said, raising his voice to silence the murmur in the hall, “will take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and...” 

“Not that!” Harry blurted out loudly, drawing the attention of those around him. 

“Ahem!” said Marina Nikolaevna, using the pause to stand up. Even standing, and even in heels, she was much shorter than the headmaster. 

“Professor Dumbledore, I thought that I was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

“Oh, Professor Umbridge,” the headmaster smiled, “I assumed that it would be too difficult for you to manage everything: your work at the Ministry, teaching, and your duties as High Inquisitor. Therefore, I thought it reasonable to lighten your load and invited Professor Slughorn, who kindly agreed to return to Hogwarts.” 

Judging by Slughorn’s forced smile, he hadn’t been too eager to return, but no one had asked him. 

“But this is wonderful!” Marina Nikolaevna exclaimed to the entire hall, feeling something nudging her ankle—it was the little stool Flitwick used to reach his seat. She stepped onto it and winked at the tiny professor. “Just think what an incredible opportunity: two magnificent experts, two Masters of Potions at Hogwarts! Dear Professor Slughorn, how delighted I am to see you again!” 

“Thank you,” he managed. 

“And Professor Snape—I’ve dreamed of having him for practical Defense classes, set to start this year!” Marina Nikolaevna continued, and the hall erupted into excited chatter. “But he couldn’t possibly be in two places at once. And now... Oh,” she clasped her hands to her chest, “Professor Dumbledore, your foresight is truly astonishing, and your wisdom boundless! Certainly, Professor Slughorn, as an experienced educator, will handle the lower years, teaching them the basics of potions, while Professor Snape, who follows the latest advancements and even creates them himself, will be able to dedicate more time to the upper years—those few truly fascinated by the complex and beautiful art of potion-making.” Snape coughed suspiciously. 

Flitwick stifled a chuckle into his napkin, and the ladies smiled. 

“I, for one, am deeply grateful to Professor Dumbledore for his consideration,” Marina Nikolaevna continued with fervor. “Combining such varied duties is indeed challenging, and I cannot devote sufficient attention to all students. But now—I can teach the lower years in theory, and Professor Snape will handle the practical side, which I could never match in the art of Defense Against the Dark Arts! Thus,” she concluded, “we can all pursue what we love and give you, dear students, the light of knowledge! Let’s welcome Professor Slughorn, who returned so timely to Hogwarts, our alma mater—let’s give a hearty welcome to this kind wizard who has helped us all!” She started to clap, and soon second-years joined in, followed by the Slytherins, and then everyone else. 

“Thank you for that heartfelt speech, Professor Umbridge,” said Dumbledore when the applause died down, and everyone resumed their seats. “But really...” 

“I believe scheduling won’t be difficult,” she interrupted before he could finish. 

“We’ll rearrange as needed, shift one course here, combine some there... a trifle, really.” The headmaster paused and continued his monologue: “As everyone in this hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are back in power, and their strength is growing. I cannot stress enough how dangerous the current situation is and how much effort each of us, here at Hogwarts, must put in to ensure our safety. The magical fortifications of the castle were reinforced over the summer, and we have new, stronger protections,” he glanced at the Aurors, “but we must remain vigilant, each one of us, from students to teachers. Therefore, I urge you to follow all safety instructions your teachers may give you, no matter how burdensome they may seem... especially the rule that forbids leaving the castle after a certain time. I implore you, if you notice anything unusual or suspicious inside or outside the castle, report it to any of the teachers immediately. I trust you will act wisely and carefully for your safety and that of others.” 

The students turned to look at the Aurors stationed around the hall in crimson robes. They appeared relaxed, but their stances suggested they could spring into action at any moment. Williamson hadn’t held back—he’d sent truly elite forces. 

“And now, good night,” the headmaster concluded, seeing that he wasn’t being listened to very attentively. 

Grubbly-Plank snorted and whispered to Marina Nikolaevna: “A summary of your speech, Dolores: ‘There’s no way you’re driving me out of here’?” 

“Wilhelmina, how rude,” she sighed and smiled. “But I did have something stronger on the tip of my tongue...” 

“Why does he need Slughorn, I wonder?” Sprout mused. 

“He hasn’t taught for... what, fifteen years? He left, and Snape took his place.”

“Honestly,” Flitwick chimed in, “dear Horace is much better at connecting with students than Severus. But you should inspect him too, Dolores, I think you’ll find it interesting!” 

“Of course,” she assured. “I’ll compare my youthful impressions with the present ones. But there’s a silver lining—in the end, I did want Severus for Defense classes!” 

“No one ever bothers to ask me, as usual,” Snape said, appearing silently behind them. “Dolores, that was a lovely speech. I nearly wept.” 

“Carry a vial for that occasion; I suspect your tears are a far rarer substance than phoenix tears,” Flitwick said seriously before bursting into giggles again. 

“Potions are needed in Defense too,” said Ingebjorg suddenly, towering over everyone like a snow-capped peak. “It’s a task suited to both your strength and preferences.” 

“Thank you,” Snape replied restrainedly. “I think so too.” 

“Ingebjorg,” Marina Nikolaevna remembered, catching him by the sleeve before he left without saying goodbye as usual, “do you have a quarter of an hour? We have a question...” 

“Of course,” she rumbled, glancing at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. “But not today. If what you want to discuss is what I think, a day or two won’t make a difference. Come the day after tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Marina Nikolaevna nodded and released Snape. “Well, colleagues? Shall we rest? Tomorrow holds new achievements for us!” 

“Yes, but before any achievements, one needs to eat and sleep properly,” said Grubbly-Plank. 

“We’ve eaten, now it’s time to sleep!” Sprout chimed in. 

“Good night, everyone!” 

“Good night...” Marina Nikolaevna made her way up to her quarters. 

Tall shadows glided through the corridors: Aurors patrolling the school. 

“Post relinquished... Post accepted. Sector three—clear,” she heard, and it brought a sense of calm to her heart.