107 Year Five - Chapter Three

The fact of the matter was, when Professor Umbridge took the word, I tried my hardest to keep a calm face.

If she uses the quill we kill her and hide her body in the Forbidden Forest.

I was a calm, tranquil sea.

If she uses the quill on a first year we rip her limb from limb while we hear her scream in dying agony.

I was at peace; she would not use the quill, there was no reason for her to use the quill, and thus she wouldn't use the quill. Clearly, she wouldn't torture the students that badly.

If she uses the quill on one of our friends the Ministry will regret ever coming into existence.

I reckoned I could pulverize her. The thought, somehow, made me smile quietly. My fingers were tightly clasped together, to the point where my knuckles were turning white. I barely noticed Amanda giving me a concerned look. Some of the lower years even looked scared. The one in front of me was even holding his breath, as if his breathing was an offense to the likes of me.

I had to crack a smile, and exhale.

Finally, the pink professor sat down and some people made a show of clapping. My refusal, however, was seen and noticed by those near me. Strangely, in a touching show, all those who realized that didn't clap either. It wasn't that strange, since there were quite a few pockets of students not clapping at the professor, but I realized the woman's eyes, from the staff' table, were actually on me.

I refused to clap.

It is with a thunderous applause that the republic falls, after all.

I stood up at the end of the meal as we were dismissed, and cracked my neck ever so slightly to let the tension go. I smiled at the first years, "First years, with me," I said as a group of tiny boys and girls hesitantly neared me. Padma arrived shortly thereafter, a couple of strays behind her. "Now little eagles, we're going on the very best cardio routine any of you will ever do," I chuckled as I began to walk, "For Ravenclaw's dormitories are located atop the highest tower of this castle, which means stairs. It means a lot of stairs." I eyed some unsure students, "But don't worry! Some of the stairs actually move, so those are okay. But then some of the stairs are trapped and send you back down to the very start of the stairway."

I sighed. "And you cry in disbelief as you were nearly there, only to be prohibited the fruit of your hard labor. However don't worry, the trapped steps are number five, seven and two hundred fifty-seven on the first, second and third stairway respectively," I beamed them another smile. "Out of a total of four hundred and eighty steps, you may end up taking as little as three hundred and as many as eight hundred," my eyes took on a haunting expression, "Do not trust the portraits about shortcuts," I whispered. "They are evil."

One of the first years began to sniffle, only for Padma to actually giggle and shake her head. "Don't worry," she said. "Shade here is a bit of a joker, but if you need help with anything, just ask us Prefects. It's our job to help you."

I nodded in turn, even as we finally reached the Ravenclaw door. "Now smart little ones," I said. "I hope you enjoy riddles, because the only way inside the Ravenclaw Common Room is by solving a riddle the door presents you, and every single time the riddle changes."

As if to demonstrate the point, I touched the handle and the doorknob spoke.

"I am taken white as snow, pitched in black I suffer with you," the riddle-speaking door said, "What am I?"

"Notice," I said. "You can answer anything you feel is right, just as long as you reason it. In this particular circumstance, there are multiple correct answers," I glanced at the door knob. "It could be a wool cloth, for example, and dyed black for a funeral. Or it could be a quill, matted black with ink to suffer during exams," as I said that, the doorknob smiled.

"Well reasoned," it said, and propped the door open.

"If all else fails, know that you have two more options," I continued as I gestured for the first years to come inside. "The first is to knock loud enough that someone inside will open the door for you, and the second is to wait until someone else comes from outside and solves the riddle for you." I sighed. "The third, secret option is to learn the greatest spell of them all, Bombarda Maxima, and threaten the door with it, but I'm technically not supposed to tell you this, because it's a dangerous spell that makes things explode, destroy doors, and makes professor Flitwick mad at those students who use it."

Ah, watching the worried expressions on the students' faces made my heart warm. This was what I lived for; trolling little boys and girls and watching the older ones giggle or chuckle as they overheard me speak.

I was about to head to sleep when Amanda stopped me, actually looking worried. "Shade," she said, "Are you feeling well?"

I blinked at that. "Yeah," I said. "It's about earlier, I take it?"

She awkwardly nodded. "You looked like, really mad."

I exhaled, softly. "Amanda, I have few pet peeves. I am a bastion of sanity in a world of madness, a good person at heart, and I'm extremely sympathetic to a lot of things. I do my best to look at others, and see the good in them, but..." I looked away, towards the window, "if someone touches one of my buttons, one of my very few, very precious buttons, then I do not go softly into the night, but I rage, rage against the dying light," I chuckled. "And let's just say this Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is the kind of person I absolutely abhor. So, do me a favor," I looked at her with a small smile, "Don't get in trouble with her."

Amanda's face seemed to brighten up a bit, and she giggled the next instant. "Aw, you worrywart," she rubbed her knuckles against my sides, making me yelp. "I promise I'll be good. Wouldn't want you to give me detention," she continued. "You'd probably find something extremely boring to make me do and I'd go mad because of it."

"I can actually prohibit someone from watching the Quidditch matches," I said offhandedly, and witnessed Amanda literally jump away from me, both hands raised in front of her protectively.

"S-Shade! We are friends, and friends don't do evil things like that," she whimpered, and I simply laughed, shaking my head in disbelief.

"I promise I will use my powers responsibly, Amanda," I said, sounding quite earnest.

The next morning, with Double Defense Against the Dark Arts as first thing in the morning, I felt my word had been given quite hastily.

Professor Umbridge had a black velvet bow on top of her head, and the classroom looked relatively normal, for a certain definition of normality. At least, that was my hope. She remained quiet until we all took our seats, at which point she spoke with a chipper, saccharine, and hidden venomous tone, "Well, good morning class!"

Some mumbled, but then she repeated until we all spoke those lines with a fake cheer.

The wand away instructions was followed by everyone, but then again my own wand rested in my holster, so I merely didn't take it out. I pulled out a clean parchment, grabbed my quill, and feigned reading the very boring chapter without as much as a word coming out of my mouth. Half an hour later, a hand rose, and I dreaded it belonging to any of my friends. It didn't, thankfully. The courageous Ravenclaw would receive a medal if he survived the ordeal.

"Yes, Mister?"

"Boot, Professor Umbridge," the boy said, "I was wondering which parts we should focus on for our OWLs."

Ah, interesting question, Boot. You are actually going at it in a roundabout way, I presume.

"Mister Boot, we will be focusing on the theoretical aspects and theories behind spell defense and the ways they can be properly used in delicate, dangerous situations. It is imperative that one understand their limits, accept that only trained professional should handle delicate cases, and that there is no need to intervene when the Ministry is already more than capable of solving the problems to the Wizarding population," as she spoke sweetly, I remained silent.

"Thank you for your answer, Professor Umbridge," Boot answered quite politely, and then resumed his scribbling.

"Five points to Ravenclaw for your politeness, Mister Boot," Umbridge said, amenably enough.

"Professor Umbridge," Padma Patil lifted her hand, and I began to dread.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Miss Patil, Professor," Padma said, "Isn't there also a practical part to the OWLs?"

"If you study your theory hard enough, you will most certainly be able to practice under carefully controlled circumstances the spells required," Professor Umbridge answered, and I knew hell was about to break loose as some students muttered, and the Professor coughed politely to recover the silence in the classroom. "Resume your assigned readings, students."

And that we all did. We weren't hot-blooded morons like the Gryffindors.

We wouldn't be earning detentions, we wouldn't be docked points, and everything would go just fine.

If everything kept being low-key like this, then it wouldn't be a horrible year, all things considered, just as long as I practiced in secret, and without busybody coming to interrupt.

Everything would work out just fine.

As long as I kept repeating that, was I really any different from the Ministry Goons, though?