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The class bell rang.
At the command of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the students began jogging through the muddy marshland.
"Physical endurance is vital if you want to survive a duel with a Dark wizard!" Professor Alastor Moody's raspy voice echoed from behind them. "Otherwise, your scrawny bodies might not even last through a single duel!"
"...Pick up the pace, Avery!"
"...Don't stop, Creevey!"
As he barked out orders, Mad-Eye Moody completely ignored the Senior Inspector standing off to the side.
"Ahem!" Dolores Umbridge could only force out a fake cough—the same ridiculous little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term.
But Moody acted as though he hadn't heard her. He raised his wand and roared,
"Patrick, focus on running! Don't get distracted!"
"Ahem, ahem." Professor Umbridge coughed again, louder and more deliberately this time.
"What is it, Dolores?" Moody turned around, his missing eyebrow furrowing into a single long, intimidating line. "You look like you need a Pepperup Potion."
"Well, Alastor..." Umbridge glanced nervously at Moody's magical eye, which was fixed squarely on her, before speaking. "Professor, I only wanted to ask if you received my memo about the date of the inspection into your teaching and—"
"Obviously, I did." Moody's hoarse voice was cold and sharp. "Otherwise, I might've thought you were some foolish Death Eater in disguise and stunned you on the spot."
"Is that so? Hehehe..." Umbridge let out a forced giggle, covering her mouth with a hand.
But when she looked up again, Moody had already jogged off, catching up to the students.
Umbridge froze, then glared venomously. Lifting the hem of her pink skirt with one hand and clutching her handbag with the other, she hurried after them.
Many students—especially the Gryffindors—witnessed the embarrassing sight. They exchanged glances, their faces lighting up with glee.
...
"No resting! Dark wizards won't wait for you to catch your breath before attacking!" Moody barked coldly at the group. "Keep running! I can tell if anyone's faking exhaustion."
"So don't even think about making excuses!"
"Alastor... Alastor..." Umbridge wheezed as she struggled to keep up.
"Dolores, are you planning to join my class now?" Moody shot her a sidelong glance. "If I remember right, you graduated from Hogwarts decades ago!"
"No... I'm just curious about your teaching methods..." Umbridge panted out between breaths.
"I'm simply holding them to Auror standards," Moody replied, not even looking at her as he jogged on. "This is only the most basic part of Auror training."
Umbridge had to quicken her pace again to keep up with him.
"Not everyone can become an Auror... Aurors are the elite among wizards!" she gasped heavily. "Alastor, you can't really think the students will be attacked during class... They don't need to train like Aurors. They're just fourth and fifth years..."
"Are you the Ministry's certified Defense Against the Dark Arts expert, Miss Umbridge?" Moody asked coldly.
Umbridge's face flushed bright red.
"Have you ever fought against dark magic, Dark Wizards, or dark magical creatures?" Moody continued without mercy. "Or perhaps you've got ties to someone in Azkaban?"
"If not," Moody said, his expression hardening, "then keep your mouth shut. In my class, people don't speak without permission."
"Fine... Very well!"
Professor Umbridge looked as if she'd been slapped. She didn't reply but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously, her embarrassment curdled swiftly into fury.
...
During the rest of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Umbridge didn't wander about the classroom as she had during Herbology, Charms, or Divination. Clearly, she had realized that Mad-Eye Moody would never allow it.
As before, she pulled a tiny folding chair from her pink handbag, sat primly upon it, and began taking notes. Her movements were so rough that Jon suspected she might poke right through the parchment.
Every so often, Umbridge lifted her head to glance around the class.
When the bell rang and Professor Moody finally dismissed them, she stood up, her face stiff and cold, radiating irritation.
As the students packed up and left, she strode toward Moody.
Jon pretended he'd left something behind in the marsh, lingering nearby while keeping his ears open.
"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked stiffly.
"One year and ten days," Moody answered evenly, not looking at her.
He pulled a goblet from his pocket, tapped it lightly with his wand—and it filled instantly with water.
Then, to Jon's mild horror, he plucked out his magical eye, dropped it into the cup, and prodded it with his finger, making it bob up and down. The eye swiveled wildly, glaring at everyone in sight.
"Bloody counterfeit junk," Moody growled under his breath.
Umbridge recoiled several steps, watching with disgust.
Moody retrieved the eye from the water and popped it back into place.
"And you're quite familiar with Albus Dumbledore?" Umbridge continued.
"Yes," Moody said flatly. "We've been friends for fifty years."
Professor Umbridge jotted down a few more notes.
"Very well," she said crisply. "You'll receive the results of your inspection within ten days."
"Excellent. I can hardly wait," Professor Alastor Moody replied, his tone ice-cold.
The two professors turned and walked off in opposite directions, parting ways without another word.