All the Wrong Things

Chapter 12

Thursday, June 13, 1996

My neck is getting sore from all the agreeable nodding.

Umbridge found me sneaking off to the kitchens, so I convinced her that I was just on my way to find her to discuss some of my suspicions. Primarily Gryffindor suspicions.

She's been preaching ever since. I nod my head again, humming in agreement.

"Quite right," I say. "And I'd wager that my father would be in full support of that decree."

She turns her small eyes on me, gleaming, and a clopping down the corridor pulls our focus.

Filch, running with his knees to his chest like always, comes darting by us.

"The poltergeist is messing with the school telescopes. Smearin' ink!" Filch's eyes bulge out of his head. "I'm on it, Headmistress!"

"High Inquisitor," she corrects. She giggles.

"High Inquisitor!" He salutes and prances away. Once he's out of sight around the stairs that lead to the Astronomy Tower, I turn back to her.

"Like I was saying." I push my hair back and she clears her throat. "My father is very impressed with all the work you've done here this year, ma'am. And once the school year is over, I do hope you can come by the Manor to meet him."

Umbridge's eyes sparkle, like I've just offered her the finest cut of meat.

"Umbridge! Er, Headmistress!" Weasley comes to a skidding halt in front of us.

"High Inquisitor," she says.

"Yes, High Inquisitor, or... yeah..."

He casts his eyes to me before returning to the Headmistr— High Inquisitor.

"Mr. Weasley?" Her prim voice lances through my ears.

"It's Peeves!" He points. "In the Transfiguration Department – mucking up everything!"

Umbridge doesn't move. "Peeves, you say?"

"Yeah! We gotta get a move on!" Weasley starts to track back toward the Transfiguration corridor.

I narrow my eyes at him. He glances at me.

"Mr. Weasley." Her voice is thin. "How is it that you know Peeves is in the Transfiguration corridor, when you yourself have just come from the opposite direction?"

Weasley blinks. Idiot.

"Well, mischief travels so fast here," he tries.

Umbridge glowers at him.

Suddenly, the sound of a dozen mewling cats. I jump, lifting my feet high like avoiding mice. There are no cats here. Weasley is doing the same, but Umbridge simply looks down at her wand, where the noise is coming from. Face paling. She turns a glare on Weasley.

"Expelliarmus!"

Weasley's wand flies from his pocket into Umbridge's tiny fist. Ropes explode from the tip of her wand to wrap around his middle, his freckly face wide and scared.

I watch with rapt attention as she advances on him.

"Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge says, handing me Weasley's wand. "Please fetch the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad and meet me at my office."

She grabs Weasley by his hair, forcing him to follow her down the hallway.

This... is the best day of my life.

I dash to the Great Hall, whistle for Crabbe and Goyle, and seconds later I have the pack of them, moving with me down the hall and begging for the story.