013. I Must Respect My Superiors

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Part One / Chapter Thirteen

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Part One / Chapter Thirteen














Venus felt anxiousness wash over her after knocking on Umbridge's office door. It was a worse feeling than when Andromeda caught her stealing cauldron cakes past her bedtime, or when she'd accidentally filled Tonks' room with mockingjays that tweeted the lyrics to We Are The Champions. This was much worse than those fear-inducing circumstances, most likely not as horrifying as an upset Aunt Andromeda.

Umbridge said, "Come in," in a sugary voice. She entered cautiously, looking around.

The surfaces were all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. It was disgustingly pink, Venus' mouth set in a hard line. She and Harry stared at the kittens on the wall, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again. "Good evening, Mr. Potter, Ms. Rosario."

"Evening," Harry said stiffly.

"Good evening, Professor," said Venus as sweetly as she could, fighting the urge to hurt the woman.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing toward two small tables draped in lace beside which she had drawn up two straight-backed chairs.

"Er," said Harry, without moving. "Professor Umbridge? Er — before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a . . . a favor."

Her bulging eyes narrowed. "Oh yes?"

"Well I'm . . . I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was— was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it — do it another night . . . instead . . ."

Venus silently cringed, surely knowing that Umbridge wasn't going to let him off detention for Quidditch. She wouldn't let him off Detention if he he suddenly sprouted antennas.

"Oh no," said Umbridge predictably, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. "Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

Venus felt like a prisoner being coached to a dementor. Professor McGonagall was right about treading lightly around Dolores Umbridge. But Venus didn't care what she reported back to the Ministry. She cared about what was going through her sick, demented head.

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