[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 38

The journey on the Hogwarts Express this time was more eventful than expected: the seventh-year heads and school staff kept the fifth-years in line. Senior students patrolled the train in pairs regularly, and although it was noisy on board, no serious disturbances needed to be quelled. This may have also been due to the presence of Aurors—Williamson had kept his word, assigning experienced reserve officers well-suited for protective duties. Aurors also stood guard on the platform and were set to meet the train in Hogsmeade to escort the students to the castle.

Harry Potter had been brought to the station with extreme precautions, accompanied by nearly all known members of the Order of the Phoenix. However, when old Moody saw the existing security measures, he seemed a bit taken aback. Perhaps he was pleased that his constant refrain—"constant vigilance!"—had been so earnestly heeded, or perhaps he recalled the days when he wore the crimson cloak himself.

“Mr. Malfoy,” said Marina Nikolaevna, peering into the prefects’ compartment, “if you neglect your duties, you will lose your badge just as Mr. Weasley did last year. Am I clear?”

“Maybe I don’t care about it that much... ma’am,” he replied insolently, not even bothering to stand up.

“Is that so...?” She glanced at Parkinson. “You too, I suppose?”

“N-no, ma’am... I do care!”

“Then you’ll have to cover for yourself and Mr. Malfoy for now. Step outside and close the door behind you.”

Left alone with Malfoy, Marina Nikolaevna stared at him intently, then quietly asked:

“So, the prefect badge no longer matters to you, Mr. Malfoy? I imagine there is another mark you value much more? One, perhaps, that cannot be removed?”

“What are you...?” he jumped, almost hitting his head on the upper rack. “I don’t understand!”

“Oh, you understand perfectly, Mr. Malfoy,” she said. “May I see your hand? Not that one, the left one... Ah, hiding it, are we?..”

Indeed, he had instinctively hidden his hand behind his back, looking at Marina Nikolaevna with open fear.

“Don’t be so alarmed, Mr. Malfoy,” she said. “I’m not planning to expose you in front of the entire Great Hall, though perhaps I should, given your astounding foolishness... Sit down and listen to me.”

Marina Nikolaevna sealed the door more securely, stood before the boy who now looked up at her, and said:

“Do you realize you have been given an impossible task?”

“How do you...”

“Do not interrupt! Do you understand or not?”

“No!” he snapped angrily, clearly convinced she was one of Voldemort’s supporters too. “I will do whatever it takes, I will carry out his will, and I will be exalted above all!”

“That’s a tale as old as time,” she sighed, recalling Snape’s sayings. “Let me share a little secret, Mr. Malfoy: this task was not given to you so that you would succeed. Think about it: why would the Dark Lord entrust such an important mission to a youth not even of age?”

“It’s not our place to question his plans,” Malfoy said, swallowing. “He must believe I am capable, and it... it’s an honor for me!”

Marina Nikolaevna rubbed her temples, then asked:

“Mr. Malfoy, are you truly an idiot, or just pretending? I thought your intelligence was higher than that of an amoeba.”

“A what?!” he gaped.

“Never mind...” she sat down across from him. “Draco... may I be so informal? Now, Draco, don’t you think that if the Dark Lord truly wanted the headmaster dead, he would have entrusted this critical, perilous task to someone far more experienced? Someone Dumbledore trusts and from whom he would accept a poisoned drink without suspecting foul play. Do you know who I mean?”

He nodded silently but repeated stubbornly:

“It’s not our place to judge the master’s decisions!”

“Yes, I see reason is not just dormant but dead within you...” Marina Nikolaevna paused, then continued: “I won’t ask if you have a plan. I suspect you don’t, or if you do, it’s foolish and doomed, because against a man whom the Dark Lord himself avoids confronting face-to-face, you, Draco, are insignificant. And he knows it well.”

“What are you talking about?” Malfoy scowled.

“That you will spend the whole year trying to fulfill this command. By the way, you don’t have any real helpers, do you? And don’t tell me it’s Crabbe and Goyle—those assistants would be worse than no help at all!”

“It’s none of your business!” he snapped. “And besides... you seem to know too much, and I’ve never seen you... never heard about you from the older ones! I mean, I have, but for different reasons...”

“First of all, Draco,” said Marina Nikolaevna, “there is such a thing as an undercover agent. I think you understand who I’m referring to...? Good. And then there are deep-cover agents: they live ordinary lives, build careers, make connections, and pass on valuable information. Understandably, there was no one to report to until recently, so I had to become a sleeper agent, but one day an order came, and then...”

“A-a-ah...” Malfoy was clearly struggling to process what he had heard.

“And no one around should ever suspect anything,” Marina Nikolaevna added, wondering if she had mixed up any terms (her knowledge was purely from spy novels and movies). However, Malfoy likely didn’t know any better, so no harm done even if she was mistaken. “And yes, Draco, I know quite a lot. And I’ll tell you again: your mission is not an honor at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well, think about it, you’re a clever young man! I’ve already mentioned your plans... or the lack thereof, your ‘assistants’ who seem more like hindrance and spies. Remember, there will be Aurors patrolling the school this year... I don’t consider the Order of the Phoenix a formidable foe,” she added, “but they can still cause trouble and chaos. Plus, you’ll need to carry out your prefect duties, study—if your grades drop to failing, it’ll be noticed... And all of this without external help, likely without even corresponding with your parents—you can’t write anything; letters could be intercepted—without confiding in anyone... So, anything come to mind?”

“Yes,” Malfoy finally muttered after a long pause, shrinking into himself. “It’s torture. It’s a cruel joke.”

“Thank heavens, it’s finally clicked!” Marina Nikolaevna said with relief, recalling Snape’s words. “Yes, Draco, it is torture. Slow and agonizing, and not just for you but...”

He nodded repeatedly and buried his face in his hands.

“The Dark Lord is furious with my father over the prophecy, I know... I thought if I succeeded, he’d forgive him...”

“And if you don’t succeed? If you die?” Marina Nikolaevna asked softly. “You’re their only son, aren’t you? Even if you survive but fail, Draco, you’ll be punished. I’m sure you know how.”

He nodded again, clutching his head more tightly, fingers digging into his hair.

“You might claim you’re strong and can endure,” she added, “but even those older and stronger than you have broken under torture. Think of the Longbottoms—have you heard of them? Surely, you must have.”

Malfoy remained silent. “And don’t forget that this will happen in front of your parents, because the punishment is meant primarily for them,” Marina Nikolaevna said seriously. “You are nothing yet. Just... a larva of a Death Eater: you might hatch into an adult, or you might perish without glory. Your death means something only to your family, not to the Dark Lord... though he might be disappointed – such a waste of pure blood!”

“What should I do?” he whispered. “Either way... But if I at least try, maybe…”

“Draco, I repeat, the Dark Lord is giving you a chance to try, but he does not expect you to succeed. There are others who can do it without you.”

“Him, specifically?..” He raised his head. “The experienced one?”

“Yes. And not just on the command of the master.”

“What else, then?”

“They must have removed your brain over the summer,” Marina Nikolaevna muttered aside. “Because he’s known you since you were a baby and cares about you, you young fool! And because your mother knelt before him and begged him to save your life! Even without that, do you think he would abandon you in trouble?”

“What?..” Malfoy, already pale, turned a sickly green.

“You heard me. And don’t you dare reject any help, understand? You can always come to your Head of House or to me, and we’ll figure something out,” she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “The main thing is not to do anything foolish, and we’ll deal with the rest.”

“Hiding behind others’ backs, right?..”

“You’re not a Gryffindor to throw yourself at the enemy, are you?” Marina Nikolaevna narrowed her eyes. “Strategy, planning – ever heard of those? Don’t rush. The whole school year lies ahead. And who knows, maybe the master’s wrath will subside if certain things fall into place... which you don’t need to know about.”

“But he’ll be expecting... action,” Malfoy mumbled. “I can’t just sit and do nothing; they’ll report it to him!”

“Draco, there’s an old joke,” she said. “An eighty-year-old man goes to the doctor and says, ‘You know, my neighbor is ninety, and he says he can satisfy five young women in one night... um...’ And the doctor replies, ‘Well, you can say that too...’”

“What do you mean?” he didn’t understand.

“Create the appearance of intense activity,” Marina Nikolaevna explained. “Talk to your companions about the importance of the mission. Make things unclear. Sit in the library surrounded by books, claiming you’re looking for a way... it doesn’t matter for what. Talk about some kind of plan... they don’t need details. Give them silly tasks, like standing guard somewhere while you’re busy with something ‘secret.’ Do you know a place where you can be alone for a long time?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Good. And also,” Marina Nikolaevna added, “don’t forget that you’re a prefect. And that you need to study at least at an ‘exceeds expectations’ level. Make it through this year, and you’ll earn praise.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll think of something,” she replied. “And, Draco, don’t assume that adults don’t understand anything and meddle in your affairs to take your glory. Not at all. Imagine – they might just care about you.”

“You too?” he tried to sound defiant, but it came off weak.

“Yes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking to you. Now, Draco, wipe your nose, pull yourself together, give me your vow of silence, and go patrol the train with Miss Parkinson,” said Marina Nikolaevna. “And no scuffles with Gryffindor until we arrive, got it? Or else it won’t be me separating you, but the Aurors, who aren’t exactly delicate.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Malfoy answered quietly.

“And remember,” she added seriously, recalling another old joke, “even if you get swallowed, you have at least two ways out!”

“You know how to lift spirits, ma’am!” he replied earnestly, then thought for a moment and added, “Three.”

“Three what?”

“Three ways out. You could cut your way out from the inside.”

“And did you miss the word ‘at least’?” she asked. “Now give me your vow, Mr. Malfoy. And put on your usual arrogant expression, or the Gryffindors won’t recognize you!”

When he left, nose held high as usual, Marina Nikolaevna exhaled in relief. The boy was smart but seemed to have convinced himself – or allowed himself to be convinced – that he had a rare chance to prove himself and rise in favor! Yet he couldn’t or wouldn’t think through what truly lay behind the task: afraid, perhaps, to admit it, knowing that a sixteen-year-old boy could not resist Voldemort’s Legilimency. And who could guess what the Dark Lord would do if he discovered the true thoughts of a young Death Eater?

And she pitied him, as she pitied all who found themselves caught in this storm! And his parents: she knew Draco’s father only as a member of the school board, an aristocratic dandy (though the local ‘high society’ was laughable), but she clearly remembered that evening at Snape’s house, Narcissa’s panicked fear... 

Marina Nikolaevna had no children of her own, but she could imagine that mother’s feelings. As for the responsibility for her students... a girl she studied with in university had died long ago—in what could be seen as either the distant future or the past—during the siege of a school by militants, shielding the fleeing children with her own body. Just like another dozen and a half teachers who perished trying to save at least someone... And how was what was happening here and now different from those terrible days? Except that the terrorists were armed not with rifles but with magic wands, and the hostages weren’t tortured by the thirst, but the essence remained unchanged...

Lost in these grim thoughts, Marina Nikolaevna stepped into the corridor and someone immediately collided with her.

“Abercrombie!” she recognized him. “Why are you running through the train?”

“I wasn’t running; I was looking for you Madam, and Mr. Finnegan said you went to the prefects’ compartment!” he blurted out. Over the summer, the boy had grown noticeably.

“And why do you need me?”

“Well...” Abercrombie lowered his head and began scuffing the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I... Madam Umbridge, over the summer I...”

“Speak up!”

“Over the summer, I used magic, and I got a warning from the Ministry,” he said gloomily, holding out a crumpled piece of paper that he had been hiding behind his back.

“You knew you weren’t allowed to,” Marina Nikolaevna said with a sigh, scanning the standard notice. “What, practicing second-year spells? Or showing off to someone...”

“No, no, ma’am!” he shook his head. “I didn’t show anyone or say anything, and I only read the new textbooks!”

“Then how did it happen?”

“Judy – she’s my neighbor – has a rabbit. A little one,” Abercrombie showed with his hands, “lop-eared. She loves him a lot. She went on a week-long school trip and left Nosey with me because her parents didn’t have time to look after him. She asked me to put his cage outside and... pick some grass for him, all that…”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” he sniffed. “The neighbor’s dog. She’s friendly, just noisy and silly. Always digging holes and running off because she’s a hunting dog... So she ran to our yard and found Nosey... He was in the cage, but she lunged... I chased her off and saw that Nosey was lying like this,” the boy crossed his arms over his chest like folded paws and rolled his eyes, “and he wasn’t breathing. And I...”

"Now, Abercrombie, no crying," Marina Nikolaevna ordered. "What did you do?"

"I ran inside with him; I didn't have my wand on me... And I remembered reading about a spell like that... to revive..."

"Enervate?"

"Yeah... I didn't even think I'd get punished," Abercrombie admitted, smearing tears across his cheeks. "I just thought about how Judy would come back, and Nosey would be gone... She knew rabbits don't live long, but he was only a year old! I mean, her mom would probably buy one just like him so Judy wouldn’t know... But I'd remember that I hadn't watched him properly! And that silly dog... it didn’t mean to, it’s just a dog! Judy always plays with her..."

"And did it work?" Marina Nikolaevna asked calmly.

"It worked... probably on the fifth try or more... Nosey suddenly started breathing, sat up normally, and began nibbling grass like nothing had happened... And then an owl came. Madam Umbridge, am I going to be expelled now?" he suddenly blurted out.

"Oh dear, of course not!" She thought for a moment and tore up the notice. "Forget about it."

"Then I asked my grandmother later," Abercrombie sniffled, "and she said that rabbits sometimes faint from fright, pretending to be dead so nothing will touch them... Maybe that’s what happened? And Nosey would’ve woken up on his own? But what if he hadn’t?"

"Abercrombie," Marina Nikolaevna said seriously, "if an owl came with a warning, that means the spell was successful. Whether the rabbit would have survived without your intervention or not, we’ll never know, but... It's better to act and regret than not act and regret, understand?"

"I don’t really regret it," he replied, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Am I really not going to be expelled, ma’am?"

"Really. Now go wash your face and return to your compartment. But from now on, don’t touch your wand during vacations unless someone is in danger!"

"I won’t, ma’am, really, really!" Abercrombie said and ran off.

Marina Nikolaevna watched him leave.

Seventy-four gunshot wounds... They removed Olga – what was left of her – from the windowsill: she had covered the window opening, preventing anyone from aiming at the fleeing students. She would have joked, probably: that’s where the extra weight came in handy...

Here, one Avada was enough.

But it changes absolutely nothing.