Percy Jackson and the Department of Mysteries

129) I Am Percy - Hope You've Figured That Out Five Books In

Umbridge, sadly, wasn't humbled by the Azkaban disaster. Instead, she seemed more determined than ever to make Hogwarts into her own little Hell. She was doing pretty good, if that was her goal. We figured she wanted to fire someone before long, but we couldn't figure out if it was going to be Hagrid or Trelawney.

Umbridge was present for every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures class, observing and neglecting her DADA duties. I heard she asked difficult questions in Divination, like asking Trelawney to predict students answers. Ron, apparently, got annoyed and predicted what Umbridge was going to do by making her little hem, hem sound then glaring at her. Umbridge, apparently, was so shocked that she didn't ask questions for a whole three minutes. I passed Trelawney a few times in the hallways (which was odd, she almost never left her tower), and she seemed pretty stressed, muttering and gesticulating wildly.

Hagrid wasn't faring well, either. He'd followed Hermione's advice of no frightening creatures (unless you considered a crup to be scary), but had lost his nerve. He was jumpy and lost thread of what he'd been teaching. He answered every question wrong, even the ones he knew, and had nervously forbade us from visiting him after dark.

"If she catches yeh, it'll be all of our necks on the line," Hagrid told us blandly, and we decided we weren't gonna risk his job, so we didn't see him much.

Life was a lot less fun with Umbridge around. The only real enjoyment we had was DA. Everyone was working harder with the news of the Azkaban escapees, but none harder than Neville. He was almost completely silent throughout our meetings, only uttering spells. He improved greatly, more able than most of the class.

The Occulemency lessons were generally going pretty well. I was able to push Snape out of my head pretty regularly — I couldn't get him out for the more minute thoughts, but the bigger ones, the ones that kept me awake, I was able to stop him from seeing. My thoughts are generally so jumbled that a few will slip in, and every time I left the classroom Snape would stare at me weirdly.

Harry was not having a good time. He seemed to have worsened at Occulemency, his scar bothering him constantly, and I'd catch him smiling in Binns' class or even, gods forbid, Umbridge's.

"Maybe it's like an illness," Hermione said, looking worried once Harry told us about how he'd been dreaming every night of the Department of Mysteries. "A fever or something. It has to get worse before it gets better."

I could understand that. It seemed like I was having demigod dreams more often than usual — not really big ones, but it was a drastic change. I hadn't had one since the quest, I think.

"It's lessons with Snape that are making it worse," Harry frowned. "I'm getting sick of my scar hurting, and I'm getting bored walking down that corridor every night." He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I just wish the door would open, I'm sick of standing staring at it —"

"I'd rather not have Voldemort succeed in getting into the door, personally," I gave a half shrug.

"Percy's right," Hermione said sharply. "Dumbledore doesn't want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn't have asked Snape to teach you Occulemency. You're just going to have to work a bit harder at your lessons."

Harry bristled, "I am working! You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it's not a bundle of laughs, you know!"

"Actually, that one time I made myself think of how the Stolls pranked him was a bundle of laughs," I snorted. "He was ginger for a month."

"This is serious Percy," Harry scowled.

"Sirius isn't here, Harry," I said, grinning.

Harry glared at me, and my smile faltered. I hoped he was having one of Voldemort's angry flashes, but I wasn't sure.