The entire day's lessons had been conducted under the watchful presence of Dolores Umbridge, which left Jon deeply uncomfortable.
Still, things had gone relatively smoothly.
Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick were both exceptional teachers in their respective fields, making it difficult for Umbridge to find fault with them.
But tomorrow promised to be more interesting, Jon thought as he glanced at the class schedule.
Divination and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Trelawney didn't concern him much—he had already "foreseen" her situation—but the potential clash between Mad-Eye Moody and Umbridge? That was something he was eager to witness.
...
Tuesday morning, in the dim Divination classroom, Jon had just taken out his copy of Unfogging the Future when Avery nudged him with an elbow.
Jon turned—and saw the pink toad herself waddling into the classroom.
The chatter among the students died at once, and Professor Trelawney's expression instantly stiffened.
"Good morning, Professor Trelawney!" Umbridge said in that nauseatingly sweet tone. "I trust you received my notice? It stated the date and time of your inspection."
Professor Trelawney nodded curtly, looking none too pleased.
Umbridge drew her wand, pointed it at her pink handbag, and from it emerged a chair, which she dragged to within a foot of the lectern before plopping herself down.
Professor Trelawney's hands trembled slightly, and behind those oversized spectacles, her eyes gleamed with unmistakable fear.
"We shall continue with crystal-ball divination!" she said, her usual dreamy tone wavered with nervous strain.
Unfortunately, Umbridge's presence had clearly unsettled her. The dramatic cadence that usually impressed younger students was gone; fear had warped her voice into a fragile, stuttering mess.
...
"Excuse me!" Umbridge suddenly interrupted halfway through the lecture, her tone sharp. "How long have you held this position?"
Professor Trelawney's face flushed with anger at being cut off by this pink old bat. She tried to ignore the question, but her eyes betrayed her fear.
"S-sixteen years…" she stammered.
"Sixteen years, is it? Hee hee…" Umbridge covered her mouth with mock politeness and jotted a line on her parchment.
"So that means... Dumbledore hired you, then?"
"That's right," Trelawney said briskly.
Umbridge immediately made another set of notes.
"You're the great-granddaughter of the famous Seer, Cassandra Trelawney?"
"Yes," Professor Trelawney replied, lifting her chin slightly in pride.
Umbridge set her notebook aside and began to scrutinize the trembling professor.
"What I'm about to say may sound a bit forward… but tell me, are you certain you inherited Cassandra Trelawney's prophetic gift?"
"Of… of course," Professor Trelawney stammered. "The gift of prophecy typically skips a generation—or two—no, three generations!"
"How... original," Umbridge said with a smirk, jotting down a few more notes.
"Well then, perhaps you could make a little prophecy for me?" she asked, smiling pleasantly as she raised her head.
"P-prophecy…" Professor Trelawney whispered, visibly trembling as she nervously stroked her sleeve.
"I'm sorry," Umbridge shrugged mockingly. "Can't do it?"
She picked up her quill again, ready to resume writing.
"No... no... I can!" Trelawney blurted hastily.
She tried to adopt her usual mystical tone, but her shaking—born of fear or fury—completely ruined the effect.
"I see something black... something very dangerous... You are in grave peril!" she declared, summarizing her vision quickly.
Umbridge's smirk widened. She was clearly unimpressed.
"Well, if that's the best you can manage."
"W-what do you mean?" Professor Trelawney gasped, her voice trembling.
"Nothing at all. Do carry on with the lesson." Umbridge gave her a sickly sweet smile and gestured to continue. "Go on, please."
...
The remainder of the double-period Divination class was unbearable.
Professor Trelawney's nerves were completely shot, her usual eccentric theatrics falling apart entirely. It was, without question, the worst Divination lesson Jon had ever attended (and the previous ones had hardly been good).
Umbridge's pink toad-like form remained seated the entire time, her quill scratching constantly across the parchment.
When the bell rang at last, she was the first to totter down the silver staircase.
The trembling Divination professor followed soon after.
Then, almost every eye in the room turned toward Jon.
"Patrick?" Selwyn said in disbelief. "That prophecy you made before—"
Professor Trelawney herself might have forgotten the prophecy Jon had given her, but the other students clearly hadn't.
"The falcon... it meant Professor Trelawney would meet an enemy!"
That prediction seemed to fit today's events perfectly.
The Ravenclaw and Slytherin students—Astoria excluded—now looked at Jon with newfound respect... and a trace of fear.
Jon merely gave a calm, practiced smile and left the classroom without a word.
...
During the afternoon Transfiguration class, Jon saw no sign of Professor Umbridge.
However, Professor McGonagall's expression was grim, and her tone sharper than usual—clearly, she too had endured one of Umbridge's "inspections."
The final lesson of the day was Professor Alastor Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
When the Slytherin and Gryffindor students arrived at the Quidditch Pitch, both teachers were already waiting.
Umbridge's face twisted in disgust at the sight of the pitch, which had been transformed into a vast swamp. But when her eyes met Mad-Eye Moody's scarred and terrifying face, a flicker of fear crossed her expression.