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"Dolores, welcome back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said warmly, as if her arrival was genuinely a cause for celebration. "Allow me to show you to your rooms… Ah, you can leave your luggage here. We'll have it sent up for you."
He descended a step and extended a courteous hand.
Umbridge's face was still stretched in that ugly, false smile. Her voice was high and shrill. "Marvelous, Headmaster. Thank you for the warm welcome. However, I'd prefer to keep my luggage with me."
She touched Dumbledore's hand briefly and withdrew her own. Her fingers were stubby, adorned with large rings.
"Of course, Dolores, if you wish," Dumbledore said, unfazed. "Do come in and warm up. Your chambers are prepared…"
"How thoughtful, Headmaster. You are too kind," Umbridge said, stepping up the final stair to stand beside him. Her trunk wobbled upward for a moment before thudding heavily onto the floor, nearly crushing Ron's foot.
The students stared at Umbridge, shuffling back to give her space. Professor McGonagall stood on Dumbledore's other side, jaw tight, exchanging a look with Professor Burbage.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear," Umbridge said to Ron. "My trunk isn't used to standing so close to people."
Ron said cautiously, "Er… it's fine." He took another step back, giving the trunk a wider berth.
The smile on Umbridge's face widened.
"You must be Arthur Weasley's child," she said softly. "Very good."
Ron's brow furrowed. He watched her warily. But Umbridge had already dismissed him, turning to Dumbledore with a satisfied air.
"Shall we, Headmaster?" she said. "Oh, I am so happy to be back at Hogwarts!"
Dumbledore's serene smile remained. "Indeed, Dolores. The journey from London must have been tiring."
…
Inside the Entrance Hall, Umbridge suddenly stopped. She turned to face the assembled professors and students. Everyone halted, confused. A few students who'd been discussing a game of wizard's chess in the common room stopped their chatter, staying to watch.
Umbridge just looked at Dumbledore, as if waiting.
Dumbledore glanced down at her. "Ah, of course!" he said to the bemused students. "This is Madam Dolores Umbridge. I am pleased to announce she will be joining us this year in the position of High Inquisitor."
"High Inquisitor?" Anthony heard someone mutter in the crowd. "Inquiring about what?"
"Ahem." Umbridge cleared her throat. Her girlish voice echoed under the high ceiling. "It is such a pleasure to see you all! It moves me deeply to see young witches and wizards so full of vitality, enjoying their studies in good health."
"You're welcome," a student said.
Umbridge's bulging, toad-like eyes swiveled toward the voice. When she spoke again, her tone was drier.
"To ensure your precious talents are not regrettably wasted, the Ministry is pleased to collaborate with Hogwarts to guarantee the younger generation of the magical world receives thorough and competent instruction. Priceless magical knowledge must be properly passed down, ensuring our culture and strength continue through the generations, contributing to the prosperity and harmony of our entire community. Those entrusted with the noble task of educating young witches and wizards—" she gave a slight nod toward the silent professors, "—should strive, toward this aim, to create a safe environment, ripe with opportunities for learning and growth. In accordance with the will of the wider wizarding community…"
Her voice was still piercing, drilling into their ears, but the students were visibly glazing over at the tedious content.
The two students in front of Anthony put their heads together, whispering complaints about their own curiosity. Ron was yawning, tilting his head to listen to Ginny. Fred and George started talking loudly about Quidditch, drawing the attention of nearby students; Professor McGonagall placed a hand on each of their shoulders, her fingers pressing so hard they turned white, silencing them.
Percy, however, was listening. He'd been nodding slightly at first, but as Umbridge droned on, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, as if he couldn't quite parse what he was hearing.
Right then, accompanied by the rhythmic tap-tap of wood on stone, Professor Kettleburn entered the castle.
"What are you all standing around for?" he asked the students, baffled yet authoritative, gently parting the crowd with his walking stick. "Off you go! It's Sunday. A holiday. You should be scampering about like colts."
"Yes, Professor Kettleburn," the students said hastily, scattering.
Umbridge gave a few more delicate coughs. No one paid any attention.
Professor McGonagall calmly released the Weasley twins, letting them escape. Dumbledore's face maintained its pleasant smile. He offered no comment on the students' departure.
Even Snape stepped aside for a young Hufflepuff trying to reach the dungeons. The student had been shooting panicked looks at his neighbor throughout the speech, desperate to swap places.
Professor Kettleburn finally noticed Umbridge.
"Oh. You," he said. "What are you doing here?"
Umbridge's pale face still bore that smile, as if fixed there with a Permanent Sticking Charm. Her eyes, however, held no mirth.
"Professor Kettleburn! Silvanus! So lovely to see you again!" Umbridge trilled. "Perhaps you haven't heard, but I've been appointed High Inquisitor, here to—"
Professor Kettleburn thumped his stick, cutting her off. "I know. The question was to tell you you're not welcome. Investigate whatever it is quickly, take your findings, and leave Hogwarts."
"Tut-tut, I wouldn't recommend that tone," Umbridge said in a singsong voice. "Given your… substantial record of violations regarding the keeping of your Chimera…"
"Those regulations are absurd!" Professor Kettleburn snapped. "I told you when I paid the last fine! They're absurd! Nifflers bite! Why can't a Chimera roar? Besides, it was yawning!"
Two students who had been leaving stopped and turned back, staring in shock. Anthony quickly shooed them away with a wave.
Dumbledore took a smooth step forward, inserting himself between Umbridge and the fuming professor. He looked as cheerful as ever, as if he hadn't heard a word. "Silvanus, allow me to introduce Madam Dolores Umbridge, our High Inquisitor. Dolores, this is Professor Kettleburn, who teaches Care of Magical Creatures. Now, let me show you to your future office in the castle."
He levitated Umbridge's trunk before she could object.
"Hmm—" Umbridge emitted a delicate, thoughtful hum. "Well, that sounds lovely. Thank you so much, Headmaster."
She turned as if Professor Kettleburn didn't exist and headed for the stairs. Professor Burbage pursed her lips at Professor Sprout, giving Umbridge a sidelong glance. Professor Sprout shook her head with a wry smile and gave Professor Kettleburn a comforting pat—the old professor's chest was heaving as if he might summon his Chimera for a 'surprise' visit any second.
"Are you alright, Professor Kettleburn?" Anthony asked quietly as he passed.
"No. It's terrible," Professor Kettleburn said stiffly.
Professor Flitwick said, "But… didn't we know she was coming?"
"Yes. That didn't make it any better," Professor Kettleburn glowered. "What good did the foreknowledge do us? Did we set traps on her way here? Plant a snare in her rooms?" He shook his head sharply. "No. I have only two states. The annoying thing isn't here, all is well. She is here, and things are terrible."
He turned on his heel and stomped back out toward the grounds.
…
Led by Dumbledore, the professors made their way slowly up the stairs.
"Where is her office?" Anthony whispered to Professor Sprout.
"Third floor," Professor Sprout replied. "Don't worry, not directly above you. We'd considered putting her near Filch, but the corridor on the right side of the third floor has been empty. Might as well use it."
"Was everything… cleared out?" Anthony asked. "The three-headed dog, trapdoor, Devil's Snare and such?"
Professor Burbage looked back. "No. That's why Minerva decided to give her that room."
Professor Sprout said, "Cleared out ages ago. A few students went exploring there this term already. Found nothing."
"Lost twenty points, though," Professor Flitwick chimed in.
"Twenty-five," Professor Sprout corrected. "You forgot Mr. Davies, whom Severus caught last."
Snape glanced at them, seeming poised to comment on that particular adventure. But at that moment, a buoyant, well-known voice rang out from above them.
"What a crowd!" Gilderoy Lockhart said cheerfully. "What's the occasion?"
Dumbledore said, "Madam Dolores Umbridge—"
"Ah, Dolores!" Lockhart exclaimed. "Splendid to see you again!"
He stood by the stair rail, resplendent in lime-green robes, a matching hat perched jauntily on his head. Next to him, Umbridge at the foot of the stairs looked even shorter.
Umbridge's eyes narrowed to slits. "Mr. Lockhart. No, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Of course, I remember you. You teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts now, correct?"
"Precisely!" Lockhart chuckled, descending a step. "I recall telling you my aim would always be to fight the dark arts… Ah, that was at the Merlin Awards ceremony, wasn't it? My memory serves?" He tapped his temple, shaking his head with affectionate self-deprecation. "You know me, Dolores. I don't pay much mind to honors, medals… all rather hollow… Besides, I attend so many ceremonies, I sometimes get them mixed up."
"Very good, very good," Umbridge said. "But what—" She stopped, turning to Dumbledore. "The Ministry has indeed noted the… unusual frequency of turnover for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and is quite concerned. Hogwarts must have considered many factors when deciding to appoint Professor Lockhart?"
"Ah, well," Dumbledore said. "Gilderoy seemed a fine fit, didn't he? An adventurer who battles dark magic. And so terribly talkative—not afraid to face a classroom."
"You can absolutely trust me, Headmaster," Lockhart said. "I remember four years ago, adventuring in Venezuela. The locals couldn't even manage basic wandwork. But they were so enthusiastic—a wonderful people—so while I was staying there, I offered a few pointers… Just the occasional little trick I'd discovered, as I was mostly there for the adventure… Anyway, by the time I left, they claimed to be quite the duelists… I wrote about it in Magical Me, just as a memento…"
Umbridge's gaze shifted assessingly between Dumbledore and Lockhart.
Dumbledore was leaning forward slightly, looking at Lockhart with rapt interest, as if he'd been dying to hear about the village boy who'd drawn pictures in the dirt with his wand.
Umbridge turned to scrutinize the other professors. Anthony quickly arranged his face into an expression of attentive listening.
"What happened then, Gilderoy?" Professor Sprout asked.
"Then I simply had to tell him my name!" Lockhart beamed. "I said, 'I am Gilderoy Lockhart.' He gasped. Stared at me. 'It cannot be. You cannot be…' I begged him to clarify, otherwise I wouldn't know who he thought I couldn't be. 'You are the Gilderoy Lockhart,' he whispered. 'The adventurer Lockhart.' Oh, the tears that rolled down his cheeks! I took his hand and said, 'For now, I am just your friend Gilderoy.' I'll never forget the look on his face. It's the very reason I adventure…"
A flicker of impatience finally broke through the plaster of Umbridge's smile.
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