The Siren's Call (A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

72. Frustrated and Infuriated

"Well good afternoon!" Umbridge interrupted as the bell rang.

"Good afternoon," a few voices mumbled.

"Tut, tut," Umbridge tsked. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time. Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class chanted, not without a few eye rolls.

"There now," Umbridge cooed in her poisoned honey tone. Instantly, the same sick feeling rushed through Dioleh, causing her to pale slightly as she moved the ring faster over and around her finger. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." Dioleh glanced at Hermione, who seemed to be liking Umbridge even less than she was. After grabbing her quill, ink, and parchment, she filled her quill and waited, the tip hovering over the parchment.

Suddenly, there was a frightful snapping sound. Umbridge had hit the board with her wand. Dioleh bit her lip, her grip flying to fiddling with her ring again. From behind her, she detected the faint shuffle of Zabini's parchment. Her heart rate spiked. Harry irritably tapped his quill against the desk. Dioleh had to suppress a shudder. She nearly screamed when Hermione gently grabbed onto her shaking hands, just catching the black-gold ring before it clattered on the desk.

She opened her mouth to ask if Dioleh was all right, but before a word could escape her mouth, the door burst open and Imani rushed inside. Umbridge rounded on her, her expression taut with sweetness and foreboding. "You're late," she said in her high, girlish voice.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Imani said quickly. She was out of breath and her dark cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were also rimmed with red and her voice was more feeble than usual. Dioleh frowned, instantly noticing that something was wrong. "I was just-"

"I didn't ask for an explanation," Umbridge interrupted. Every students' eyes moved from Umbridge's entirely serious and unjoking expression to Imani's flustered and perplexed one.

Glancing between the two quickly, Draco said, "Professor, she was just-" 

"Students must raise their hands if they wish to speak in my class," Professor Umbridge interrupted viciously. "Detention, Ms?"

"Kanumba," Imani said, failing to keep the faint ire out of her tone even as it cracked halfway through. 

When she saw Imani had not moved, Umbridge said tartly, "Sit." Her gaze never softening or moving from Umbridge, Imani lowered into the seat next to Dioleh whose hands were shaking so terribly it was all she could do to grip them together to stop their shaking.

"Well now," Umbridge resumed. "Your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now being rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She slammed her wand with a loud snap again. Dioleh flinched. She couldn't bring herself to write out the words now sprawled across the blackboard. However, once everyone else had finished, Umbridge said, "Had everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Again there was only a collective mutter. "I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.'" 

"No, Professor Umbridge," Blaise muttered snappishly. Draco snorted, his lips curling into an involuntary smile. 

Umbridge had remained completely oblivious to the remark. "So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"