"I see,"Umbridge said with airy dismissal, scratching more notes across her parchment with the satisfaction of someone cataloging evidence for a prosecution.
"I—but wait!"Trelawney suddenly burst out, attempting to summon her usual ethereal tone. But her violent trembling shattered any mystical atmosphere, making her sound more like a frightened child than a conduit to the beyond.
"I believe I... yes, I sense I have glimpsed something concerning you... ah, the visions come... I perceive something about your future... something dark, something exceedingly perilous..."
Trelawney extended one shaking finger toward Umbridge like an accusatory wand, her bangles chiming with nervous energy.
"I fear... I fear you face terrible danger!"
Her "prophecy" concluded with all the dramatic impact of a damp firecracker. Silence stretched through the classroom like a held breath until one of Umbridge's eyebrows arched with theatrical skepticism.
"Indeed. Well, if that represents the pinnacle of your abilities..."
She murmured, scribbling with renewed vigor across her evaluation forms. Without another word, she swept from the classroom, leaving behind only the lingering scent of her sickly-sweet perfume and the echo of bureaucratic satisfaction.
Trelawney remained frozen in place, her chest rising and falling like a bellows, looking as though she'd just survived a particularly vicious duel. Harry, Orli, and Ron exchanged meaningful glances, each recognizing the same thought reflected in the others' eyes: while none of them harbored any particular affection for Trelawney, Umbridge was infinitely more despicable. In this contest of evils, they'd gladly champion the eccentric Divination professor—but when she immediately turned her frustrated wrath upon them, their loyalty evaporated faster than morning mist.
"What exactly are you staring at?"Trelawney suddenly materialized beside their table, jabbing one bony finger dangerously close to Harry's nose with uncharacteristic speed and precision, like a predator seeking the nearest available prey.
"Present your dream journal immediately! I want to examine your earliest entries!"
After she finished dissecting Harry's dreams at maximum volume—transforming even his most mundane nocturnal wanderings into harbingers of doom and early death—every trace of sympathy they'd felt for her disappeared completely.
Perhaps she should have chosen Arithmancy instead, Orli mused silently, at least then she could have kept Hermione company. Even Muggle Studies would have been preferable to this theatrical nightmare.
The following day brought the blessed relief of Transfiguration, though their anticipation dimmed considerably when they discovered Umbridge already installed in a corner like a pink gargoyle, clipboard poised for maximum bureaucratic damage.
"Marvelous,"Ron whispered as they navigated between the classroom desks. "Now we get to watch Umbridge meet her match."
Professor McGonagall strode into the room with her characteristic brisk authority, her expression suggesting complete obliviousness to the unwelcome pink presence lurking in the shadows.
"Right then," she announced, and the classroom fell into immediate, respectful silence—the kind of quiet that spoke to years of earned authority rather than imposed fear.
"Longbottom, distribute the homework assignments. Thomas, take charge of this box—one toad per student, if you please."
"Hem, hem—"Umbridge produced her signature artificial cough, the same theatrical throat-clearing she'd employed to interrupt Dumbledore during the welcome feast.
Professor McGonagall continued as though she'd heard nothing more significant than a mouse squeaking in the walls.
"Pay close attention, everyone—Finnigan, if you torment that amphibian again, you'll find yourself in detention! The toads are to remain silent and cooperative."
Orli ducked her head, fighting desperately against the laughter bubbling up in her chest, while Harry struggled with similar restraint. At the neighboring table, Ron's face was turning an alarming shade of crimson from suppressed mirth, despite Hermione's strategic pinching of his arm—though her own lips were pressed together in a barely-contained smile.
"Now then, most of you have successfully vanished your snails, and even those who left behind a few stubborn shells have grasped the fundamental principles of the spell. Today, we shall progress to—"
"Hem, hem—"Umbridge repeated her intrusive cough with increased volume and deliberate timing.
"Yes?!"Professor McGonagall finally turned toward the pink intruder, her voice carrying the dangerous edge of a blade being slowly drawn from its sheath. Both eyebrows had risen to heights that suggested volcanic eruption was imminent.
"I was merely wondering, Professor McGonagall, whether you received my memorandum regarding the scheduled date and time of your classroom inspection—"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as McGonagall's eyes narrowed to laser-sharp points of Scottish fury.
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