The Siren's Call (A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

78. Those Who Fight and Those Who Don't

"Wands away," Umbridge commanded. Dioleh and Hermione shared looks. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk." 

"Or think," Draco muttered irritably to Blaise. 

"Right?" he replied with a low scoff. 

Dioleh began to flip to the page before noticing that Hermione had her hand raised again. Umbridge got up and approached. In a low, quiet whisper, she said, "What is it this time, Ms Granger?" 

"I've already read chapter two," she said in normal tones, catching the rest of the class' attention. 

Still speaking in a whisper, she replied, "Well then, proceed to chapter three." 

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book," Hermione countered. 

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen," Umbridge challenged. 

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named," Hermione said without hesitation. "He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable." Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Dioleh had to quickly move her hand to her mouth to cover her smirk as pride for her sister surged within her. "But I disagree." 

"You disagree?" Umbridge repeated. 

"Yes, I do," Hermione affirmed. "Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be useful when used defensively." 

"Oh, you do, do you?" Umbridge replied, finally giving up on whispering. The entire class was watching with attentive and fascinated eyes. Some even had admiration for Hermione's will to fight against the robbery of their education shining in their eyes. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Ms Granger." 

"But-" Hermione began. 

"That is enough," Umbridge snapped. Stepping before the entire class, she added, "Ms Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House." 

"What for?" Harry said angrily. 

"Harry," Dioleh warned. 

"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered, fear shining in her eyes. 

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruption," Umbridge explained. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them - with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects - would have passed a Ministry inspection-" 

Dioleh's heart sank as more and more words came out of her mouth. A violent struggle waged inside of her. The vicious urge to say something, to fight against the ignorance spewing from this woman's mouth, and, somehow even stronger, the knowledge that nothing she said would make a difference. The overwhelming sense of hopelessness was so severe she felt her eyes well up with tears. 

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," Harry said obnoxiously. "There was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head." Dioleh's head slammed down on her desk. Otherwise, there was a dead silence. 

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," Umbridge said after a long pause. Dioleh could have sobbed right there in the middle of the classroom. Thankfully, before she could lose control of herself, the bell rang. As quickly as possible, she dashed from the room with Imani. 

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Dioleh stood facing Umbridge's door with a pale, and almost greenish, completion. She had been cornered by Filch earlier in the afternoon and told that Umbridge wanted her and Draco to come and oversee Harry's detention. She hadn't even opened the door and she already felt sick. Just when she was about to dash away, Draco stepped by her side and asked, "Are you all right?" 

"No," she said. Her voice was weak and gave away how sick she felt. "She's torturing him, Dray. I can't watch this." 

"If it gets to be too much, you can say you forgot you need to talk to Snape about something," Draco suggested. Dioleh drew in a deep breath, shutting her eyes briefly before opening them again, slightly calmer than before. She knocked. 

"Come in," Umbridge said. Harry was already sitting with the cursed quill in his grip. Blood dotted the parchment, but he didn't allow a single cry to leave his lips. Dioleh had stopped in her tracks, her eyes fixed on the deep gashes growing deeper and deeper on his skin as more and more blood pooled on the back of his hand before sliding along the infinitesimal cracks and pores to fall with a resounding drip drip drip on the parchment. No matter how much the sight horrified her, she couldn't move her gaze. Her eyes wouldn't move. Her mind was frozen in place. Her heart pounded in her chest. 

Finally, Draco grabbed her hand and stepped between her and Harry so she couldn't see the blood anymore. Lowering his head to her ear, he said softly, "Go to Snape." She nodded. 

Staying behind Draco, Dioleh said in a quiet voice, "Professor, I just remembered I forgot to turn something into Professor Snape. I'm terribly sorry." 

"It's no matter," she said in her falsely sweet voice. "There is always tomorrow." Making sure not to look, she left the room, shutting the door behind her. Turning around, Draco glanced at Umbridge with an unreadable expression. She was watching him curiously, her eyes glittering. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son, aren't you?" 

"Yes," Draco said, failing to keep out the faintest edge to his tone. 

"He does quite a lot for the Ministry," Umbridge remarked. 

"Yes, I suppose so," Draco replied. 

"He must have so much support from his family," Umbridge said. "Just you and your mother, I believe?" 

"Yes," Draco said again. He was now wishing he had been able to leave with Dioleh. 

"He was a very avid supporter of my being hired," Umbridge revealed. Draco clenched his jaw briefly before releasing it as he looked away from her. Unfortunately, his gaze landed on Harry's hand, stained red with blood and irritation. 

"Yes, I know," Draco admitted finally, tearing his eyes away to look instead at one of the dried flowers in a vase. "He told me." 

"I should like to repay him," Umbridge said. 

"How?" 

"Oh, there are many, many ways," she said with a wide, sick smile on her face. Draco swallowed, a deep-seated discomfort growing in his chest.