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Professor Umbridge made another note.

“And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?”

“Yes,” said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.

Another note on the clipboard.

“But I think—correct me if I am mistaken—that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?”

“These things often skip—er—three generations,” said Professor Trelawney.

Professor Umbridge’s toadlike smile widened.

“Of course,” she said sweetly, making yet another note. “Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?” And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.

Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. “I don’t understand you,” she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

“I’d like you to make a prediction for me,” said Professor Umbridge very clearly.

Harry and Ron were not the only people now watching and listening sneakily from behind their books. Most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking.

“The Inner Eye does not See upon command!” she said in scandalised tones.

“I see,” said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard.

“I—but—but… wait!” said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. “I… I think I do see something… something that concerns you… why, I sense something… something dark… some grave peril…”

Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.

“I am afraid… I am afraid that you are in grave danger!” Professor Trelawney finished dramatically.

There was a pause. Professor Umbridge surveyed Professor Trelawney.

“Right,” she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. “Well, if that’s really the best you can do…”

She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Harry caught Ron’s eye and knew that Ron was thinking exactly the same as he was: they both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney’s side—until she swooped down on them a few seconds later, that is.

“Well?” she said, snapping her long fingers under Harry’s nose, uncharacteristically brisk. “Let me see the start you’ve made on your dream diary, please.”

And by the time she had interpreted Harry’s dreams at the top of her voice (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death), he was feeling much less sympathetic towards her. All the while, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first and was waiting for them all when they reached their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.

She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Harry and Ron told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell.

“Wands away,” she instructed them all with a smile, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out, sadly returned them to their bags. “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.”

Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Harry wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep them reading through all this year’s lessons and was on the point of checking the contents page when he noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again.

Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, “What is it this time, Miss Granger?”

“I’ve already read Chapter Two,” said Hermione.

“Well then, proceed to Chapter Three.”

“I’ve read that too. I’ve read the whole book.”

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2. A second, very small parcel contained a note.
3. A. Before you listen, say when you visit another city, what do you enjoy/not enjoy doing?
4. After glancing once at this portrait, Professor McGonagall made an odd movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at Harry, her face taut and lined.
5. And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. To his surprise, neither of the others looked shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.
6. Another goblin came scurrying around the counter.
7. Another pause, more protracted, and then—
8. ANOTHER REPETITIVE DRILL
9. At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
10. At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh in which a hiccough was barely hidden.
11. Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall’s face.
12. But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically.

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