Percy Jackson and the Department of Mysteries

140) Watered Down Milk

Happy Thanksgiving!!! <3

Fred and George had recommended we go to the Great Hall during lunch if we didn't want to be suspected of causing mayhem. I figured it was a good idea, both the causing of mayhem and the avoiding blame.

Of course, Filch had to show up before we could get there. He tapped my shoulder, and I turned around, and I didn't jump at all. Not at all. For anyone who is concerned, though, Filch is best viewed when there's more than a foot between you and him.

"The headmistress would like to see you and Potter," Filch said.

"I didn't do it," Harry scowled.

"I'd rather like to not see her," I grimaced. "Even a picture of her is enough to make me shudder."

"Guilty conscience, eh?" Fudge stared at us, blinking slowly. "Follow me..."

"Follow me," I said, and started walking. Filch rushed to catch up to me, but I would just walk faster and faster, so he'd always be one step behind me. Harry was probably pissed at me, rushing to catch up.

"Things are changing around here," Filch wheezed as we walked up some marble stairs.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," I said dryly.

"Yerse... I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all," Filch chuckled nastily, or maybe he sneezed. "You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stinkpellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now?"

"You did whip me with a belt once, and I still drop Stinkpellets," I pointed out.

Filch ignored me, "Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Twenty-nine comes in, I'll be allowed to do them things.... And she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves.... Oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge..."

"Oh, Filchy, if you wanted to string a student up by their ankles, you could've just asked!" I gasped dramatically. "Here, if you can figure out when to use those and when to use them in a sentence, I'll throw you an ankle-chaining party." It was pretty amusing, the lengths at which Umbridge had gone to get Filch on her side. Personally, I think he was less than useful. If you could move at a faster pace than a drunkard's speed-walk, then you'd be able to avoid him. The only notable thing he offered was his knowledge of the school's layout.

"Here we are," Filch sneered at us, rapping three times on Umbridge's door (the gargoyles hadn't let her into Dumbledore's office, much to her chagrin, so she was stuck in her old room, still), and pushing it open. "The Potter and Jackson boys here to see you, ma'am."

The office was the same as before. Ugly pink things everywhere, cat plates, and a blue flower that I'd charmed to stick to her desk. The first difference I could see was the large wooden block sitting smack in the middle of her desk, with the engraved word HEADMISTRESS. The second was the three brooms chained to her back wall, belonging to Harry, Fred, and George.

Umbridge looked up from her pale pink paper when we walked in, "Thank you, Argus."

"Not at all, ma'am, not at all," Filch bowed as low as his bad back would allow (so about a centimeter), and walked out.

"Sit," Umbridge pointed towards the chairs in front of her desk, and I did as told. I also brought my legs up and planted my feet firmly on the seat, knowing fully well they were covered in mud. She glared at me for a moment, I didn't move, then she just smiled at us, like she were about to catch a juicy fly. "What would you like to drink."