Upon hearing these words, Umbridge's face instantly lost all colour.
It seemed that no matter how cruel or ruthless a person's heart might be, when facing death, their soul would still tremble with fear.
"No, that's impossible!" she murmured, her voice filled with terror. "I have no money, no power—I'm just an ordinary witch..."
But she quickly recalled the charges that had stripped her of all positions—precisely what Voldemort despised most:
Forbidding students from using magic, spreading Muggle ideas!
This left her ashen-faced, teeth chattering, her upper and lower teeth clicking together with a rattling sound!
Yet when confronted with life and death, Umbridge seemed to abandon all dignity. She chose to be flexible, completely forgetting her earlier abuse.
She performed a lightning-fast change of face, fully deploying the sycophantic skills she'd honed during her Ministry years, her expression becoming sickeningly obsequious:
"You wouldn't let them kill me, would you, Headmaster Dumbledore? You're the kindest, most merciful person—you wouldn't, would you?"
Dumbledore said nothing, his face grave, looking at her as if she were a dirty rag on the floor.
But Umbridge shamelessly ordered her father to boil water, then began personally brewing tea and serving refreshments for them.
Jane didn't accept her tea, and Dumbledore pushed away her refreshments, rejecting all her false courtesies.
"It was all a misunderstanding," Umbridge laughed awkwardly whilst wringing her hands. "I was deceived by Fudge—without his pressure, how could I have thought to drive away someone who once taught me and students I'd taught? Since you've come to help me despite past grievances, naturally I'll stand with you..."
She continued her rambling pleas, hoping the two would protect her safety.
When no one responded, she chose to display the highest magical artistry of her life.
Muttering a Transfiguration spell, she attempted to transform herself into an armchair half a person's height, decorated with cat patterns. The armchair hopped about, trying to wedge itself into a small corner of the room, but got stuck due to being too fat.
—Unfortunately, perhaps having grown too comfortable at the Ministry, her magical skills were clearly very rusty.
The cat's face still revealed her slightly open scarlet mouth, the four paws replaced by her fat, stubby fingers and toes, the four wooden legs of varying lengths, the armchair's edges ringed with irregular red patches, and even sprouting the lace trim from her clothing.
If this were a N.E.W.T. examination, even the most lenient examiner from the Wizarding Examinations Authority could only award a P.
Jane frowned deeply, whilst Dumbledore—a master of Transfiguration and Headmaster of Hogwarts—looked ready to gouge out his own eyes.
"Who was the Transfiguration professor when she was at school...?" Jane heard him mutter very quietly. "Surely... it wasn't me..."
Whilst it was heartbreaking to see a student go astray, seeing such appalling magical technique was even more embarrassing.
Dumbledore began reminiscing, trying to deduce which professor had taught Umbridge back then.
"1956... I was no longer teaching Transfiguration... but even if it was Minerva... I was already Headmaster... responsible for the quality of student education..."
Realising he might well have taught such a notorious and utterly useless student, Dumbledore fell into an odd silence.
He watched with a stiff expression as the armchair twisted in a circle, lost its balance, and crashed to the floor.
But that wasn't the end—former graduate Dolores Umbridge continued demonstrating her world-renowned Transfiguration artistry to them both.
She began correcting her botched transformation: first struggling to make the chair's toes disappear, but exposing even more of her fingers; when she desperately tried to eliminate the lace trim, the original irregular pink shapes spread across the entire chair; whilst straining to lengthen the right leg, the left wooden leg retracted into the chair.
The entire process was a case of robbing Peter to pay Paul—losing something here, gaining something there.
"Perhaps it's not entirely our fault," Jane heard Dumbledore reflect with practised skill. "Probably the Wizarding Examinations Authority made an error... who passed her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s...? Perhaps I should have a word with Marchbanks... was the grading really so lax back then? I've always said wizard examinations should implement a three-examiner system... the probability of one examiner showing favouritism is quite high..."
But Umbridge was still attempting to salvage herself with her inadequate Transfiguration. The spell expired during her struggles, causing the pink armchair to revert to the form of a sweating, pink-clad witch.
Worse still, she retained some characteristics of the chair and cat—her two arms had become bizarre wooden planks, cat whiskers were painted on her face, making her appear utterly terrifying.
This embarrassing scene made the already quiet house even more silent.
Dumbledore's lips moved beneath his white beard.
If it weren't rather impolite, he suddenly wanted to ask Umbridge her age, to calculate her year of entry and determine whether the Transfiguration professor at the time had indeed been himself.
"I've only seen such scenes in first sixth-year lessons... unfortunately I cannot split myself in two to attend to every student... there's nothing to be done about it, but such disgraceful magical technique is truly pitiful. No wonder she later turned Defence Against the Dark Arts into reading lessons—she'd forgotten how to cast spells..."
Jane rubbed her ears—she couldn't be certain whether Dumbledore was criticising some of Umbridge's teaching methods.
But she truly couldn't bear watching such appalling human Transfiguration any longer.
Was this really the true magical level of a former Hogwarts graduate and former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister?
It truly lowered Hogwarts' standards, turning a first-class school into a third-rate one.
Not only her—Dumbledore's gaze seemed to become considerably more vigilant, deeply concerned whether such a dreadful demonstration might corrupt another future flower of the wizarding world.
He decided to provide correction.
"Jane, I must tell you—the key to human Transfiguration lies in matching body parts with the object requiring transformation. The mind must clearly visualise the object's appearance; the legs should first transform into the armchair's four wooden legs..."
Following Dumbledore's guidance, Jane began learning and demonstrating before Umbridge how to properly transform into an armchair.
She moved through each step slowly: first her legs became wooden stick shapes, forming four wooden legs; then her lower body became the seat cushion, her upper body the chair back, her arms the armrests, and finally she tucked her head into the backrest.
Although this was sixth- or seventh-year Transfiguration content, the transformation wasn't difficult for her.
She switched back and forth several times, looking encouragingly at Umbridge, hoping she might join in learning and make progress in Transfiguration—not continuing to drag down Hogwarts' average standards, and certainly not embarrassing herself before Death Eaters.
Unfortunately, the other party wasn't grateful.
"You—you—!"
Umbridge trembled her wooden arms, pointing at her, her face full of exasperation, eyes bulging like bronze bells.
Jane's behaviour was like a heavy slap across her face, reminding her just how appalling her Transfiguration was—she couldn't even match a fifth-year child she'd once expelled and looked down upon.
This made her face burn, with anger, shame, and hatred intertwining, leaving her speechless.
"Alas—" Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "The headmaster leads you through the door, but learning depends on the individual... even after leaving Hogwarts, learning never ends—one should study throughout life... as Jane once said in a very philosophical statement: 'When three people walk together, there must be one who can be my teacher'... not being ashamed to ask questions is a lesson you need to master, Dolores. Although you've graduated, as your former headmaster, I must still offer you some advice..."
Umbridge rolled her eyes, so furious that she choked on her breath and couldn't catch it for ages.
This sense of oppression from a superior that the headmaster brought constantly reminded her of her complete and utter failure during both her student career and teaching career at Hogwarts, making her red-faced and thick-necked with rage, nearly suffering a heart attack.
Seeing her stubborn as a stone in a privy, Dumbledore shook his head.
Realising this Hogwarts graduate was not only morally irredeemable but also utterly hopeless in magical technique, he decisively abandoned his helpful impulses and chose to respect her fate.
—Turning instead to target the other promising, excellent student present.
"Excellently done, Jane—you've mastered the essence of human Transfiguration!" he praised happily. "Of course, if I were Minerva, I'd teach you the next step of adding beautiful patterns and trim to yourself, like this—"
An exquisite armchair appeared beside Jane, with Dumbledore leading by example, transforming himself whilst adding numerous star and moon patterns he favoured.
"Come, follow my lead—"
One dared to teach, one dared to learn—the scene was quite heartwarming, a perfect example of teacher-student harmony.
This successful lesson seemed to put Dumbledore at ease. Recognising that his traditional teaching skills hadn't grown rusty, but that student quality varied greatly, he finally ceased his self-reflection.
But this harmonious scene undoubtedly stabbed Umbridge's heart cruelly, slapping her swollen face painfully, prompting her to roar:
"You! You! Get out of my house!"
Before her words finished, loud, raucous mocking laughter came from the doorway!
"At death's door, who exactly are you telling to get out?"
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