The Turning of the Tables

"Let me show you to the staff room... I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey," Dolores beckons the other examiners and me away from the Great Hall and into the empty staff room. A group of students-obviously Slytherin, from their uniform-follow us meekly. A few of my colleagues turn around to face them.

"Don't you dears have to go to eat back in the Great Hall?" Gwendolyn Spitznogle, the Arithmancy expert, asks them.

"Oh no," Dolores smiles as she hovers over to them. "These are the members of my Inquisitorial Squad. They will help me ensure that your stay is as comfortable as possible."

I smile back, amused. Heaton Tofty, standing beside me, makes a noise but straightens his face when I look at him. I have a feeling he is fighting a laugh as well when hearing the name designated to her little helpers. There is an awkward silence as we enter the staff room. My colleagues quickly make themselves comfortable, helping themselves to the crumpets and pastries that appear on the table. I enter last and find that the only available seat left is the one right next to Dolores herself. I sigh softly and seat myself next to her.

I may be a bit hard-hearing, but I don't really need ears to judge the horrible lack of administrative qualities in Dolores Umbridge. Ordering her little posse of "Outstanding"-hopefuls to help me to my chair, take my coat, and pour my tea, she looks frantic and even a bit furious. It must have been my little praise of Dumbledore that's making her gnash her teeth secretly at me. I've seen students do the same when I ask them a particularly difficult question. No doubt, Dolores wants to scream something with the word "senile old lady" at me. I can't help but smile. She can scream at her subordinates and those trembling students who make up her ridiculous "Inquisitorial Squad" (I wonder how many brain cells it took the Hogwarts Inquisitor to make up that "creative" title), but Dolores can't yell at me now, can she?

Ah, this is where the wonderful irony lies. I had been censured by both the Daily Prophet and many of my former fellow Wizengamot members for being disloyal towards the Ministry, which is fickle in itself for being headed by the capricious Cornelius Fudge. But now, who is in power? As the head of the Wizarding Examination Authority, I have the power to remove the keystone from Dolores's little Hogwartian empire here. By judging the knowledge of her students, I get to determine whether Headmistress Umbridge truly possesses that competence that is expected of the administrator of such a fine and upstanding institution. For dear Dolores, who has barely treaded the waters of managing a school, this is her rite of passage. The students may fret and worry about their tests, but Dolores shall be the one who will bite her nails and loiter about nervously. I smile and sip my tea.

"So how are you doing, Professor Marchbanks?" Dolores asks, her hands just dying to wring themselves.

"Oh, I'm quite fine."

"I imagine you have much more free time on your hands as of late."

Touché. Perhaps Dolores, even in the predicament that she's in, can't help but dig at the fact that I am no longer part of the Wizengamot. She widens that mouth of hers into a smug smirk. I hold back a grimace, add another lump to my tea, and watch brown froth form as I swirl my cup.

"You imagine correctly," I reply, keeping my tone as even as I can. I feel a rant bubbling in my throat, but choke it back down. This is not the time for theatrics. I prefer to be the calm, controlled one as Dolores seethes.

"And how is your family?"

"They are just fine. My first great-great-granddaughter was born this March."

"Congratulations," Dolores offers in an almost flat tone.

"And you, Dolores? How is your life?" I look up at her and raise an eyebrow. I wonder exactly what she will say in response.

"I'm fine as well," she responds mechanically.

"How do you find your job?"

Was that a scowl that had momentarily flitted across her face? Dolores seems to be attempting to find the words to describe her new career. From her face, I can tell that she does not exactly find being Headmistress very peachy.

"It's a wonderful experience," she finally replies with a saccharine smile. "I really love Hogwarts. The students are so nice and well-behaved and the staff is so understanding and cooperative."

Well-behaved. Cooperative. These aren't exactly surprising words to come out of Dolores's mouth. This woman has single-handedly revived the human superiority movement, proposing rash and appalling gestures involving the control and discrimination of non-human entities. Her ruthlessness towards "half-breeds" is alarming and exceedingly prejudiced. I can imagine her parading about Hogwarts with that nauseating smile of superiority and that absolutely odious pink costume. I immensely pity all the students and staff members who have had to see this disturbed woman on a regular basis.

"And how are your classes? Should I anticipate them to be on par with the expectations of the Wizarding Examinations Authority?" I glance at the other side of the able where I see one of the Slytherin students accidentally spill hot tea on Heaton's bald head while attending to his tea cup.

"Of course," she smiles back in a strained manner. I look forward to assessing her affirmative statement. I had been told that the Ministry had limited the instruction of practical aspects of core subjects. I simply hope that the students present in this very staff room do not represent the epitome of the students.

"How about the proficiency of your peers? Should I expect the same?" Dolores's smile wavers slightly.

"Naturally," she responds, sipping her tea. "After all, I have worked tirelessly this year to evaluate each teacher and ensure that quality education is being administered at this institution."

"My expectations are high for this batch of students," I say, and then look out the door of the staff room. "Where is Minerva?" I hope to receive a more genuine account of the students and their capabilities from Minerva McGonagall, whom I can trust to be frank and open with me.

Whatever remnants of a smile existing on Dolores's synthetic face-I can clearly see the excessive make-up powder shake loose and fall as her facial muscles moves- vanishes instantly. "She must be busy with work."

"But she surely could afford to join us for some tea? It is dinnertime, after all."

"Well, we don't want to disturb her, do we?" Dolores looks keen on not bringing Minerva here.

"Oh pshh! She will certainly come here if she's told that Griselda Marchbanks is asking for her!" I summon one of the Inquisitorial Squad members-a haughty boy with a pointed face and a lazy scowl to match.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Draco Malfoy," he drawls as if he hopes the name will have an effect on me. I recognize him from those unpleasant dinners at Wiltshire with Lucius Malfoy. Somehow that man had come up with the idea that the more he invites me to his house, the higher I would score his stick of a son. Perhaps Lucius needed nepotism to save his son's marks, but I will play no part in it.

"Go find Professor McGonagall and invite her to have tea with us, Mr. Malfoy," I instruct him. He gives me an irritated how-dare-you-order-me glare but I remain unfazed (after all, he isn't the first Malfoy I've dealt with in my career). He defeatedly saunters into the hallway in what I hope is the direction of Minerva's office.

"Well, Professor Marchbanks, could you excuse me?"

Suddenly, Dolores looked very uneasy, fidgeting as she crossed her legs and leaning at the edge of her seat.

"Is something wrong, Dolores?" I ask, quirking my eyebrow at her once again.

"Er, I must go-it's very urgent. Please stay here. I'll be right back," she says and quickly runs out the door. Call of nature, I think to myself. Dolores is not as exclusive to basic needs as she thinks she is. Perhaps there's hope of finding a remnant of human life within this woman after all.

"Professor Marchbanks, did you call me?" A head peaks through the door. I grin at the familiar face. Many of the other examiners greet and wave to Minerva McGonagall as she enters.

"Hello, Minerva. How are you?"

She gives out a sigh of relief (due to the absence of Dolores) and walks in to sink herself into the chair next to me.

"I'm well, I suppose. How are you, Professor?"

"Spiffing as always, dear. I had asked Dolores how her job is faring and she seemed rather unsure of how to answer. Could I get a more definitive answer from you?"

Minerva looks over the students attending to us and then leans in to my ear and whisper in my ear. "Oh Professor, you don't know half of what's happened in this school. Every day, that woman pushes forth a dozen more Educational Decrees that prevent us from teaching anything at all. She had even forbidden the formation of student organizations and teams, all because Potter and his friend wanted to learn practical Defense techniques outside of class. Have you heard anything like this before?"

"Potter?"

"Yes, Harry Potter and his friends wanted to practice and learn practical magic outside of class since Dolores wasn't teaching practical Defense against the Dark Arts in class, which is a stupid idea to begin with. Have you ever heard of an Auror fighting Dark wizards with theory? And it's faulty theory at that because the textbook by Wilbert Slinkhard-"

"-Slinkhard? That little fool? I remember him. He could barely Disarm without fainting during his practical, said he didn't believe in jinxes-"

"-yes, and it's been made so much worse because she forced Professor Dumbledore to leave."

"She did seem very sore when I mentioned his name. I suppose he's well?"

"Yes, I don't contact him often, but he's safe. But I'm worried more about my students now. They're smart and capable, but they still haven't been taught all the things that we should have taught them-she's leaving them with some disadvantage. Very few of us here even like her, beside Argus Filch and the members of that Inquisitorial Squad," Minerva nearly spits out the last two words with a look of disgust on her face. "She's teaching all the children that the Ministry is capable and friendly and looking out for them when I really beg to differ. She's limited our ability to talk to students outside of class and is just commandeering over our classes and our Career Advice sessions. The Gryffindor Quidditch team barely won the Cup this year because three of my best players received a lifetime Quidditch ban from Dolores. Everything that made my occupation worthwhile has been sucked out. She has literally made our lives hell."

"You poor dears... Do Filius and Pomona feel the same?"

"Yes, they're as frustrated as ever."

"I think some changes need to be mad-"

"Hem hem." We both look up to see Dolores. She tries to subdue the anger in the face as she sees us stop whispering to each other. She probably is suspicious of us but I have

"Really, Dolores, must you be so impolite?" I ask her, swirling my tea with a spoon. "Surely you could manage an 'Excuse me?' rather than coming up in the middle of a conversation and making annoying noises? You've been doing this for a while and I must say that it is quite grating. There is such a thing as waiting your turn to speak and I'm sorry to say that you've failed to comprehend this. I am sure that you could tell that Minerva and I were in the middle of a conversation, so you, as a gracious host, should have known better than to barge in. I see that common courtesy has failed to make its mark on you as you've ascended to the Headmistress position of this school."

I notice, as I finish my semi-rant, that the room becomes very quiet. The Inquisitorial Squad looks rather uncomfortable. I see Heaton Tofty give me a sly wink while Minerva bites back a few laughs. Dolores, on the other hand, is speechless.

"Now, Dolores, did you have something to say?" I ask innocently.

"I-I... well, I... er...," responded Dolores incoherently, looking genuinely flabbergasted. I roll my eyes and turn to Minerva.

"Well, Minerva, I'm sorry to take your leave but we are all quite tired after our journey and would like a nice lie-in before tomorrow. I daresay you need rest as well. I shall see you tomorrow morning."

I give a dismissive nod to Dolores as I motion my fellow examiners out the door and towards the sleeping quarters designed for us. Before I follow them, I turn back to see a stricken Dolores. I hide a satisfied smile. I have a feeling that a few changes will occur in this castle that will prove less than beneficial to the new Headmistress.