[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 29

Time flew by quickly: February passed (Marina Nikolaevna successfully escaped to the Ministry for a private party, and to keep Filch from getting too upset, she anonymously sent him a large heart-shaped box of chocolates), and March arrived. The snow slowly began to melt under the sun, and Ingebjorg took her students outside, showing them how to read signs on the ground and ice of the lake.

First-year students, those who hadn’t studied divination yet, followed the stern northern witch with open mouths, listening to ancient sagas (though Ingebjorg wisely omitted most of the bloody details). When the seeress was busy, they shadowed Marina Nikolaevna and pestered her with questions – when would they be allowed to start practical lessons?

Nothing else happened, no one attempted to break into the Department of Mysteries, and judging by appearances, Potter’s visions had either diminished or he had learned to hide them… He hadn’t tried to contact Black, of that Marina Nikolaevna was sure. And he himself confirmed it…

Consultations for fifth-year students were ongoing: they needed to choose subjects for further study, and Marina Nikolaevna attended some of these meetings.

Harry Potter, of course, was late to his consultation with McGonagall, clearly remembering only at the last moment, but still managed to rush in, apologize, and sit down, trying to catch his breath from running.

"So, Potter, we’re here to discuss your career prospects and help you decide which subjects to continue studying in your sixth and seventh years," McGonagall said. "Do you have any ideas about what you want to do after Hogwarts?"

He muttered something and then squeezed out: "Well, I was thinking, maybe I could become an Auror…"

"That requires top marks," McGonagall said, pulling a small dark brochure from the pile of papers on her desk. "As you see: they require at least five O.W.L.s with scores of ‘Exceeds Expectations’ or higher. Plus, you’ll need to pass a series of mandatory tests for psychological resilience and professional suitability. It’s very difficult, Potter; they only take the best. In fact, they haven’t had any new recruits for three years."

Marina Nikolaevna couldn’t help but smirk: Potter didn’t stand a chance of passing those tests, judging by what Orford had said.

"You probably want to know which subjects you should choose?" McGonagall continued.

"Yes," said Harry. "Obviously, Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Of course. I would also recommend taking Transfiguration, as Aurors often need it in their work. By the way, Potter, I must warn you that I only accept senior students into my group if they earn an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ or higher on their O.W.L.s. At the moment, you’re only performing at an ‘Acceptable’ level, so you’ll need to work hard before exams if you want to continue studying with me. Then, you’ll need Charms and Potions. Yes, Potter, Potions," McGonagall repeated, with a faint smile. "Every Auror must be familiar with poisons and antidotes. And keep in mind that Professor Snape refuses to accept students who score anything less than ‘Outstanding’ on their O.W.L.s, so…"

Potter remained silent, subdued.

"If you’re serious," McGonagall said, "I’d advise you to deepen your knowledge in Transfiguration and Potions. I see that in the past two years, Professor Flitwick has been giving you mostly ‘Acceptable’ and ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ so your Charms work is relatively decent. As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, your average grades have been fairly high…"

Marina Nikolaevna barely held back.

"Ma’am, what tests does the Ministry require if an applicant has sufficiently high O.W.L. scores?" asked Potter.

"Well, you'll need to prove that you can handle pressure and so on, demonstrate endurance and persistence, as Auror training takes another three years, plus you’ll need to have very strong practical defense skills. This means working hard even outside of school, so if you're not prepared to take more exams after finishing Hogwarts, it really would be better to consider another career."

"I'll think about it, ma'am," he said and left.

McGonagall looked at Marina Nikolaevna.

"They won't take him into the Aurors, even if you personally train him," she correctly interpreted the expression on the face of the Head of Gryffindor House. "He may get 'Outstanding' in every subject, but he won’t pass the psychological tests. The Auror Department has significantly tightened the selection criteria in the past couple of years."

“Well, the boy should at least have a glimmer of hope,” McGonagall muttered.

“Yes, yes, hope is what nourishes the young…” Marina Nikolaevna stood up. “He can aim for any other position in the Ministry, but not the Auror Corps. Minerva… they’re elite fighters. An unstable young man with serious psychological issues has no place in the Auror Corps. Just accept it as fact... Of course, he can try, but I doubt he’ll manage to not only raise his school grades to an acceptable level but also pass the entrance exams to the corps. There won’t be Miss Granger there to whisper answers, nor Mister Weasley to give moral support, so…”

“I understand, Dolores,” she sighed heavily. “But perhaps such a goal might at least push Potter to work harder?”

“I very much doubt it!” Marina Nikolaevna replied sincerely.

________________________________________

It was already nearing April, spring was in the air, and the stadium had to be properly dried out, as running through wet mud was a less-than-pleasant experience. Soon, the ice on the lake should thaw as well, as the pool was getting a bit dull; the enchanted ceiling was just not the same as the real sky!

With these thoughts in mind, one lovely warm evening Marina Nikolaevna was climbing to her room and had just set her foot on the upper landing when she suddenly realized she was losing her balance, toppling backward, and...

She tried to grab the railing, but her fingers only grasped air... and something else, weightless and slippery...

Then darkness came.

... “Umbridge!” a familiar voice called out in the dark. “Umbridge! Come on, wake up... Dolores! Can you hear me?”

“Have you tried testing reflexes?” she mumbled, and right then, someone lifted her eyelid, and a beam of light struck her eye. “Ow... that hurts…”

“She’s alive,” Snape confirmed with a sigh of relief – it was indeed him. “Does your head hurt a lot?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Can you open your eyes? It’s dim here, as you remember, so don’t worry.”

Marina Nikolaevna managed to barely lift her eyelids. Everything was blurry.

“How many fingers do you see?” Snape asked seriously, holding up his hand in front of her face.

“Six,” she replied honestly.

“Got it, dose was too small,” he nodded, brought a glass to her lips, and made her swallow a generous portion of a potion, bitter enough to instantly clear her head. “And now?”

“Two,” Marina Nikolaevna grabbed his hand and pushed his fingers away from her nose. “What happened?”

“I should be asking you that! And no, don’t try to get up, lie still. Not all of it has kicked in yet, and I gave you a couple of good pints.”

“I somehow fell from the stairs,” Marina Nikolaevna recalled after a moment’s thought. Her head throbbed, but it was subsiding, and she was starting to think more clearly. “Can I have more of that poison?”

“No, that’s enough; you’re already on the brink of overdose,” Snape replied. “How did you manage to fall? Did you trip?”

“No. Definitely not. There’s a vanishing step, but it’s much lower, and it’s marked; I stepped over it. And besides, if I had tripped, I’d have likely fallen forward, not backward… I was almost on the landing when suddenly…”

Marina Nikolaevna paused, then said:

“Someone pushed me.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“That’s the thing – no… It’s unlikely to be Peeves; he doesn’t bother professors, right?”

“Right. I mean, he might cause trouble in class, do small mischiefs, throw water or toss something, but something like this… no, definitely not him. Think, Dolores. Could it be that you just slipped? Maybe your heel slid on the edge of a step?”

“First, I wasn’t in heels; I was coming from the pool, wearing sneakers with a ribbed sole,” Marina Nikolaevna replied, thinking back. “I told you – I had my foot on the top step but hadn’t shifted my weight onto it yet when something pushed me in the shoulder, hard enough to spin me around... I even tried to grab something, but it slipped through my fingers… Then I must have hit my head and remember nothing more.”

“You fell quite spectacularly,” Snape muttered grimly. “It’s almost better that you hit your head and blacked out immediately – a relaxed body often suffers less.”

“And… um… what exactly are my injuries?” she asked cautiously, tuning into her body. She didn’t seem to feel any pain.

“I counted five broken ribs, a double fracture in your arm, and a couple of cracks in your thigh. Plus bruises and scrapes. And your skull is tough; only a cut down to the bone, no fractures. But we’ve already healed that.”

“But I suppose I have a concussion…”

“Yes, and a strong one. It will pass soon, too.”

“And who is this ‘we’? And how did I end up here?” Marina Nikolaevna asked warily, trying to sit up. Not a good idea: her vision darkened, and her stomach did a flip, rising to her throat.

“Want a basin?” Snape asked kindly. “I told you to lie still!”

“No need…” she took a few deep breaths. “So will you answer?”

“One thing at a time: I was actually preparing to go to bed when your house-elf burst in, in tears, wailing that Madam Umbridge was dying. As you can imagine, that wiped any sleepiness away.”

“Letty? But how did she…” Marina Nikolaevna only now noticed he was dressed in just a shirt, haphazardly tucked into his trousers.

“You still haven’t figured it out?” Snape was surprised. “I expected more observation from you!”

“And what was I supposed to observe? We agreed that I would call her if I needed help, and that’s all!”

“Yes. And ever since then, she’s been following you around, waiting for orders. She… hmm… as I understand from her wailing, she wants to be your house-elf, but until you officially summon her, she can’t leave her duties at Hogwarts. Technically, she can – no one’s forced to stay – but if she does, she’ll have nowhere to go.”

“It just gets better and better…” Marina Nikolaevna muttered. “And she couldn’t just say so directly?”

"No. And don’t get distracted; you can deal with her later!" Snape paused, then continued: "So, I rushed after her. And, let me tell you, if you'd lain there until morning, or even until Filch happened upon you, things could have ended very badly. As it is... you'll be up in half an hour."

"You know how to heal?" she asked, for some reason.

"Out of necessity," he replied. "Plus, Letty helped. But still, go see Madam Pomfrey. I’m more inclined to quickly patch up someone and send them back into the fray. House-elves have their own tricks... but for the finer details, you need a specialist."

"Fine, I'll go in the morning... I’ll say I tripped," Marina Nikolaevna sighed. "How did you even manage to get me here..."

"Letty transferred you, of course. I wasn’t about to carry you myself," Snape scoffed. "Mobilicorpus would have taken too long... So, Dolores, you’re saying you didn’t see anyone? Letty didn’t either, but she thought she heard footsteps. Granted, she was so frightened for you, I’m not sure how much to trust her. But you also said you tried to grab onto something, and that it slipped between your fingers?"

"Yes."

"Then I know who pushed you down the stairs."

"Don’t tell me it was Potter..."

"Dolores, in case you weren’t aware, he has an invisibility cloak," Snape informed her. "He inherited it from his father. And the little scamp uses it freely with the headmaster's complete approval... Besides, I have another piece of evidence."

He showed her a rolled-up piece of parchment, completely blank.

"It was lying right next to you. Apparently, you managed to grab something, or perhaps Potter dropped it in surprise and didn’t dare come back for it."

"And what is it?" Marina Nikolaevna managed to prop herself up on her elbow.

"This is another little trinket Potter inherited from his father and godfather. The Marauder’s Map, as they called themselves. And I assure you, Dolores, if Potter is sneaking around under his cloak with the map in hand after curfew, he’s up to no good again..."

"So why are you just sitting here?" She tried to jump up, but the room spun before her eyes, and with a groan, Marina Nikolaevna lay back down. "We need to find him and... and..."

"And catch him," Snape finished. "Don’t rush. The castle isn’t easy to get out of, you have placed security charms at every corner, and they haven’t triggered yet. Besides, it’s only been half an hour, and Potter’s probably spent most of that time hiding around corners in shock over what he did. If it turns out someone pushed you intentionally, I’ll personally ask you to sign a permission slip for Filch to use the birch rods."

"Better ask Ingebjorg; she knows how to handle things without rods..." Marina Nikolaevna muttered.

"Furthermore," Snape continued, "he’s unlikely to have gone alone. Most likely Weasley went with him, maybe someone else too. But hiding and moving around under one invisibility cloak, even a large one, is tricky for two or three people. Although, the Marauders somehow managed it as a foursome... And additionally," he held up the parchment again, "without this, they’ll have to be extra careful."

"They don’t know the castle?"

"They do. But this isn’t just any map. Look..." Snape took his wand and touched the parchment, saying, "Professor Severus Snape commands you to reveal all the information within!"

Suddenly, words began to flow across the smooth surface of the parchment, as if written by an invisible hand.

"Mr. Moony greets Professor Snape and humbly asks him to mind his own business. Mr. Prongs joins Mr. Moony in expressing that Professor Snape is both an ugly and idiotic git. Mr. Padfoot is shocked that such a fool became a professor. Mr. Wormtail bows to Professor Snape and advises him to wash his filthy hair at last."

"Quite the pranksters," Snape commented with a sort of grim satisfaction.

"And... who’s who?" Marina Nikolaevna asked for some reason.

"Padfoot is Black. Prongs is Potter. Moony..."

"Lupin?"

"Yes. And Wormtail is Pettigrew. That traitor..." Snape clenched the map so tightly that he nearly tore it, but then he quickly regained control. "So, I can’t open it. But the map doesn’t know you, so you could try. Here’s your wand..."

"And how?"

"I heard you have to say ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’... I couldn’t resist peeking when I had Potter in detention," he explained. "I’ve been wanting to get my hands on this map for a long time, though it doesn’t respond to me."

"Well... I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Marina Nikolaevna said, touching the map with her wand, feeling thoroughly silly.

Immediately, at the spot where she had touched, thin lines of ink began to appear, spreading out like spiderwebs to the edges of the parchment, and soon the words bloomed in green ink at the top: "Messrs. Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present... the Marauder’s Map!"

The map showed every corner of the castle and the surrounding grounds for miles. But, most remarkably, tiny ink dots moved across it, each one labeled. In the upper left corner, Professor Dumbledore paced his office; Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, prowled on the first floor; Peeves the poltergeist was zipping around the Trophy Room...

"Amazing!" Marina Nikolaevna exclaimed, finding herself and Snape in the dungeons on the map. "So, where are those scoundrels?"

"Now... Look, Granger, Finnegan, and Thomas are in the Gryffindor common room," Snape frowned. "And they haven’t moved."

"And here’s Potter," she pointed out. "With him are Weasley, Longbottom... and Ginny Weasley."

"Apparently, the prefects tried to detain them," he said quietly. "There was an incident like this in first year, except that time it was Longbottom trying to stop them. But are they insane?! Where could they be going in that lineup?"

"To the Ministry, of course," Marina Nikolaevna sighed, "to the Department of Mysteries. But why now, of all times? Hmm, Severus, where are they now?"

"Hmm... there’s an old hunchbacked witch statue on this floor, if I remember correctly, and Potter often lurked around there. If I’m not mistaken, this marks a passageway... Yes, that’s the one leading to the Whomping Willow! So, not all the passages have been sealed after all; I didn’t know that."

"It leads straight to Hogsmeade!" Marina Nikolaevna realized. "And from there they can take the Knight Bus or use a fireplace... they can’t apparate yet, can they? There’s no time to lose... Letty!"

"Yes, madam!" The elf appeared, flung herself at her feet, and started banging her head against the edge of the couch. "Letty is to blame! Letty failed!.."

"Stop wailing and listen to my orders," Marina Nikolaevna cut off her sobs. "Take another house-elf with you. On the fourth floor, near the hunchbacked witch statue, there are four students. They’re under the invisibility cloak, but they’re definitely there. Immobilize them all and bring them to my office! If there’s anyone else, do the same with them. Clear?"

"Yes, madam! Letty can do it alone!"

"No, it’s better to be cautious. Call Trinky, and get on with it..."

"You’re still too weak to stand," Snape warned.

"I was hoping you’d help me reach my office. But I can always call Letty again..." Marina Nikolaevna sat up straight and looked at herself. Her clothes were... somewhat disheveled.

"Nothing personal!" Snape quickly said.

"Did I say anything?" she smirked, buttoning her blouse and robe.

And she thought: her aunt had been right when she said – whatever happens, always wear decent underwear! Otherwise, you might end up getting hit by a tram, taken to the hospital, undressed – and there you are in faded underwear or with a mended bra strap... What a shame!

"Go wash up," he said, "over there. Your face is bloody, and your hair is a mess."

"Thank you," Marina Nikolaevna said sincerely, and, holding onto the wall and furniture, made her way to the bathroom. In the mirror, she saw such a sight that she involuntarily thought of the little house-elf Kuzya and began tidying herself up.

"Not bad," the mirror suddenly commented once she fixed her hair. "No worse than usual."

"You’re not confusing me with someone else, are you?" Marina Nikolaevna asked.

"Er... just a slip-up from being half-asleep," it admitted. "But I’ll stick to my opinion: I’ve seen worse..."

‘Even Snape’s mirror suits him,’ Marina Nikolaevna sighed and walked out.