Oleandra Flies Under the Radar

"Wands away," Professor Umbridge announced upon walking into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence, 'Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

The class audibly groaned, as if they had still somehow held onto the faint hope that they would be performing actual magic in class, as opposed to only reading from a book. What else had they thought would happen? Expecting Umbridge to actually teach was like expecting Hermione to not raise her hand in class— it just wouldn't happen.

And speak of the devil; Hermione had her hand up in the air again, visibly having not understood her lesson. Didn't she understand that by provoking Umbridge, she was only prompting Harry to contradict her statements?

This time, however, instead of making a spectacle out of answering her question, Umbridge walked over to Hermione's seat and leaned down to her level, before whispering something in her ear— Oleandra couldn't quite make out what they were talking about, since she had chosen to sit as far away from Harry; to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, when sparks would inevitably fly.

The back-and-forth of their whispered debate continued on, but after a while, it appeared that Umbridge had clearly had enough of entertaining the bushy-haired girl's questions, because she walked back to the front of the class and loudly announced that she was docking five points from Gryffindor.

"But—" Hermione protested.

"What for?" said Harry angrily, and Hermione urgently whispered something in his ear.

"For interrupting my class with pointless disruptions," said Umbridge. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-developed method that does not include students giving their opinions on subjects they clearly have not mastered."

She continued:

"Your previous teachers may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them— with the possible exceptions of Professors Quirrell and Lockhart, who restricted themselves to age-appropriate subjects— would have passed a Ministry inspection—"

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," Harry said loudly. "There was just the minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

The silence was deafening. Harry took the opportunity to add something to his shocking statement, though it was pure speculation on his and Dumbledore's part. If it hadn't been for Professor Dumbledore telling him Voldemort's true name last year, he would never have made the link between the diary of Tom M. Riddle and the Heir of Slytherin.

"And yeah, Professor Lockhart might have been the most incompetent teacher we ever had, but he had real skill," Harry continued loudly, "In the end, he proved himself to be the best teacher we ever had by giving his own life to stop the Basilisk that Lord Voldemort set loose in the school."

People began whispering and giving Mafalda less-than-discreet glances; they'd been told that she'd been behind the attacks, but now it was You-Know-Who? What on earth was going on?

"I think another week's detention would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge calmly.

================================================================

"I'm proud of you," said Tracey in a motherly way as the trio walked out of the classroom. "You managed to restrain yourself!"

"Good girl," said Daphne, standing on tiptoes to pat Oleandra on the head.

Oleandra swatted her sister's hand away.

"What kind of person do you think I am?" she said irritably. "I can keep my tongue and my temper under control, unlike a certain boy we all know. You know, I think it was really unfair the way Umbridge gave me detention last time. That look on her face when I ended my story by saying I completely believed Harry…"

"It's just…" Tracey said hesitatingly, "from what you've told us, you were only supposed to have one evening of detention with Professor Umbridge. You could have completely avoided detention by telling her what she wanted to know, instead of enduring an entire week of torture for no reason."

Tracey's face reddened.

"I mean, I think it's fine if you're into that sort of thing, but I don't think I could get into that sort of play…"

Oleandra shot her a dark look, so Tracey looked at Daphne for help.

"We just thought you'd be angrier at her, that's all," said Daphne calmly. "And I've known you to be fairly… spontaneous, but even that doesn't begin to explain why you would willingly subject yourself to that."

Oleandra laughed.

"Oh, I am angry at her," she said with a dark smile. "She wouldn't believe me when I told her the truth, that Dumbledore hadn't given me any secret orders during the time I went unaccounted for, so I had to come up with something to convince her."

"Speaking of which," said Daphne, frowning slightly, "according to what little you've told us, there's an at least two-week gap between the time you woke up from your coffin and the time we boarded the Hogwarts Express. Where were you during this time?"

Of course, Oleandra had prepared an alibi in the eventuality that someone would ask her this question; just not a very good one.

"Here and there," she said vaguely. "I had to find a new wand, you know. It came to me in a dream…"

Tracey was instantly convinced, but Daphne still seemed sceptical.

"Here and there," she said incredulously. "Care to elaborate? Your explanations couldn't be more obscure even if you tried."

Luckily for Oleandra, Tracey came to her rescue.

"You shouldn't have given up on Divination, Daphne," she said very seriously. "Don't you know Oleandra is a True Seer? She can see the future, so there must be a good reason why she does all these things. Professor Trelawney said fate works in mysterious ways…"

"I get it," Daphne snapped. "She doesn't want to tell us what she's been up to."

"I do," said Oleandra dolefully. "It's just that…"

"You can't tell us?" Daphne said cynically. "Yeah, I kind of got that already. You know, I thought we were past all of this nonsense after everything we went through last year, but it seems I was wrong. Well, fine! Keep your secrets, for all I care."