Year 6 Okame
Mister Umbrus was a surprise package. It was Minerva's humble opinion that, if push came to shove, he'd always surprise those who expected him to fail at something. Still, when she saw the way the Beauxbatons students followed him around like eager, lost ducklings, she couldn't help but feel she had already seen that very same thing somewhere else.
Then, she remembered her times at Hogwarts, and to her embarrassment she also remembered when she left Hogwarts, and duckling-like followed the teachings of the Transfiguration masters that would, one day, treat her as an equal master of the craft. It was a strange thing. A normal person would believe Mister Umbrus to be oily, or like Slughorn perhaps interested in forging connections for a better tomorrow, but even a few minutes with the boy told a different story.
He was one of those thoughtful kids that even through hardships and trials kept their kindness and their smiles. The kind of kid that even when bullied, or hurt, never allowed the smile to falter from their faces.
When his name popped out of the Goblet of Fire, she was as reasonably incensed as everyone else.
Mister Umbrus anger, though the words may have been a bit excessive, were indeed in the right place. She'd have words with whatever prankster had put his name in the goblet, and while the Weasley twins were safe from her wrath since they had tried, and failed to do so, it didn't mean there wasn't someone out there that had somehow gotten a hold of one of Mister Umbrus' signed homework, ripped his name and surname from it, and then flung it in the Goblet of Fire.
She knew the goblet needed better charmwork on it, but had they listened to her? No, of course, being the Deputy-Headmistress merely meant that she had to grow incensed and yell in Scottish at whatever trouble arrived at Hogwarts, but clearly not try to prevent it.
Well, she'd show them.
There was no way she was going to let that sweet kid risk his life and neck in a silly Triwizard Tournament if she could avoid it.
-
Professor Flitwick had the utmost trust in his student. If it had been an older year, he might have been worried, but since it was Mister Umbrus and he had faced a basilisk and lived, then there was little he had to worry about. Still, having the utmost trust and at the same time not helping someone catch up to much needed charmwork was a different thing.
What kind of Head of the House would he be if he didn't teach the boy what he needed to further his education? Sure, he might have changed ever so slightly the curriculum once it became clear that Dragons were going to be the first trial, but that was to be expected.
There was no way he was going to let Mister Umbrus risk his life, and a good old charm would solve most of the Dragon's problems with relative ease, provided he kept his cool and faced it like Filius always faced his dueling rivals in the arena.
Calm, controlled decisions and wits; nothing else was needed for victory.
When he ended up using Gargoyles, of all things, Professor Flitwick was pleasantly surprised. He had gone further than last year with them; they were nice work, meant to distract the dragon, clearly, and not -what was that shadow and who turned off the sun- and then he couldn't help but clap so noisily and quickly that he barely held himself on his seat, jumping up and down with ecstatic glee.
"That's my Ravenclaw over there!" he hollered loud enough that even with the roaring of the largest Gargoyle he had ever seen, he was reasonably sure half the stadium had heard him. He'd go as far as put a Sonorus charm on his throat and repeat it. "Look at him! Look at him go! Strutting with music! Clearly learned from the best!"
"Filius, will you please calm down, you're making a scene," Professor McGonagall retorted, though judging by how his colleague was moving the Hogwarts flag right and left with speed, it was clear she was doing her best to maintain a modicum of decorum.
He didn't care.
His Ravenclaw was clearly the brightest and the bestest!
-
The second trial would be won by Mister Umbrus, without even bothering to question it. It wasn't like Pomona didn't have a soft spot for the boy, but then again the Hufflepuff matron had a soft spot for everyone, or she wouldn't have been named the Head of House Hufflepuff to begin with. She did have a vindictive streak, but she tried her best to keep it down.
Still, the remarks on where the aquatic Gillyweed could be found was, hopefully, not lost to the boy. It wasn't like he actually needed to head into the lake himself. He could just whistle and get the Giant Squid, poor animal normally so ignored and left alone, to fetch the lost student.
She had suggested Megan Jones, mostly because she wanted to root for the home team, and she considered herself a bit of a busybody nice aunt to every single Hufflepuff around her.
She wasn't afraid for the safety of her student. Deep down, she reckoned that just as much as Hogwarts was the safest place in the world for students, barring a couple of notable exceptions, then there was little harm that could happen to those who kept Mister Umbrus as their friend.
Well, provided they survived Miss Jones scrutiny and weeding out, because the Hufflepuff's protectiveness of her friend equally warmed her heart and worried her a bit.
-
They were all dunderheads. Professor Snape had no doubt that, if given the right ingredients for a simple enough Antidote to Common Poisons, they would murder themselves in new, interesting ways if left unattended. All of them were dunderheads. All of them were stupid, moronic, inferior beings that perhaps would have been better suited working as lab rats for the Ministry Potions' Experiments Department.
Now, Mister Umbrus was a dunderhead, but at least he remained pleasant to tolerate most of the time. It was the sharpness of the words he could deliver that made him feel barely acceptable as a waste of cauldron space. The fact he never strayed far from a Bezoar, and at least knew what to do in case of a mishap, made him a relaxing presence to have in the classroom.
He could just shove Longbottom by his side and watch the Gryffindor be cowed into submission, or tongue-lashed into absolute, stunned silence.
Yes, he understood Albus' words of warning about the boy being strange, and terrifying, and perhaps even not at all normal. Unfortunately, he also saw the same thing that Dumbledore saw in the boy, which while it did warm the Headmaster's heart, it also sickened Severus' own.
There was worry and kindness deep down into the student's heart. It was the kind of foolish kindness that made one take an Avada Kedavra for a despicable spawn's existence; the kind of silly, stupid, dunderhead-like quality that made people flock to the hero, the would-be martyr. It was the kind of notion that actually quite angered him.
If anything, the merciless attitude Mister Umbrus reserved for his enemies gave him a hint of triumph.
Not at all unlike the Headmaster in his prime, though the man might have forgotten just how much fear he drove in the heart of the Death Eaters during the Wizarding War, but also a bit deeper, a bit darker.
It was enough to set his heart at ease. The Dark Arts were dangerous, and unpredictable. Only someone willing to learn and use them would ever stand a chance, a real chance, at defeating them.
It was wishful thinking, but as he used to glance more often than not into Lily's eyes, standing within the sockets of that man's despicable spawn, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, out of everyone, he was the one holding on to the most wishful thought of them all.
-
Hagrid didn't really have anything against the lad. He was a good kid, he even went as far as help him get his dad's recipe right for the first time in decades. Sure, the rock cakes were now a bit soft for his tastes, but Harry and his friends liked the new version loads better, and whenever he came by to bring Fang around, it was clear just how much the boy loved animals.
He had been told in no uncertain terms by Dumbledore that no, he couldn't gift the boy a Baby Cerberus, but he knew that Mathilda and good old Benjamin were awaiting another litter deep in the forest.
There was also Mister Whiskers, purring happily and suffering from a bad case of bad breath. Perfume didn't really work, but a good old piece of cloth wrapped around his mouth did the trick.
Aragog's spawn was a bit unruly, but a firm hand would solve the trick.
Really, the boy even helped during his lessons. It was a pity the Skrewts ended up dead like that, but on such short notice, he had no choice but to grab a manticore from its perch. He hoped they wouldn't hurt the poor little thing too badly; they were quite sweet and sang nice tunes whenever you rubbed their bellies or scratched behind their ears.
Maybe they liked some playful biting, but it was never something hard enough to draw blood, at least not on him.
He wondered why the Seventh Years were praying to Umbrus, though. Just because he dropped the number of manticores down to a measly one rather than a pride of them, it was no reason to pray for salvation from the Ravenclaw.
Though the boy had convinced him that moving an entire pride of manticores might unsettle the crooning creatures.
Ah, the lad really liked animals, didn't he?
Maybe he'd get a Manticore puppy. They were so cute when they were little!
-
The boy would not die.
It was troubling, but not the end of the world.
He'd need another plan, and he knew just the pawn to send.
-
"Killing a manticore and a sphinx without breaking a sweat, Minister Fudge," Miss Umbridge spoke with her sweet voice, "That's quite alarming, isn't it?"
Minister Fudge blinked, ever so slightly. He lifted his head from a letter he was in the process of reading.
"Dolores," he said, awkwardly. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Well, Minister, what if this boy has been taught wrongly? There was a werewolf teaching the classes just the year before, and I shudder to think what dark thoughts it might have instilled in its students," Dolores' voice remained sweet. "The poor children may need a stricter, and healthier education. Many a mother is worried, Minister, that their loving children may, once more, be taught by half-breeds or monsters in human flesh in the upcoming year."
Minister Fudge stared, briefly, at his Undersecretary. "I see," he said in the end. "Then, it would garner consensus to do something about it."
Miss Umbridge smiled, a beady, toad-like smile that didn't look even the slightest bit charming.
"If you'll allow me, sir," she continued, "I'll do a most excellent job. It's always been my secret dream to teach the hopeful future of the Wizarding world at Hogwarts."
Cornelius didn't see anything wrong with it.
He was doing Dumbledore a favor, the way he saw it.
What was the worst that could happen, anyway?