" 𝓓𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓰 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓪𝓴𝓮? "
" 𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝔂 "
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
For as long as Charlie Densmore can remember her Father has always avoided taking her into Honeydukes. Her childhood protests going unheard as he would quickly drag her...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Picking Our Battles
When Charlie entered the classroom, she found Professor Umbridge already sitting at her desk, she looked around to see if there were any signs of Ainsley or the twins but she couldn't, she sighed before taking a seat hoping the others would hurry. As the classroom began to fill, Charlie couldn't help but eye the door worriedly, Ainsley was never late to classes especially when a new professor was going to take the class. Umbridge stood at the front of the classroom and was about to say something when the Twins and Ainsley walked into the classroom, Ainsley didn't make eye contact with anyone while George looked angry, Fred on the other hand looked visibly upset. Umbridge watched as they made their way towards Charlie, Fred took a seat beside her while George and Ainsley sat beside each other. The Professor gave them one last one before turning to the rest of the class, Charlie took the chance to look at Fred before raising a questioning eyebrow, Fred just shook his head before turning back to Umbridge.
"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the whole class had sat down.
A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.
"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Charlie shoved her wand back inside her bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her.
"The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum has unfortunately resulted in you being far below the standard we would expect to see in your N.E.W.T. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please." She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:
