Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

and think he’s just sad,
    But Peevesy knows better and says that he’s mad –’
     
    ‘SHUT UP!’
    A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.
    ‘What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?’ she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. ‘Why aren’t you in class?’
    ‘I’ve been sent to see you,’ said Harry stiffly.
    ‘Sent? What do you mean, sent ?’
    He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.
    ‘Come in here, Potter.’
    He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him.
    ‘Well?’ said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. ‘Is this true?’
    ‘Is what true?’ Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. ‘Professor?’ he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.
    ‘Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Harry.
    ‘You called her a liar?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, frowning at Harry. Then she said, ‘Have a biscuit, Potter.’
    ‘Have – what?’
    ‘Have a biscuit,’ she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. ‘And sit down.’
    There had been a previous occasion when Harry, expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, had instead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He sank into a chair opposite her and helped himself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footed as he had done on that occasion.
    Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge’s note and looked very seriously at Harry.
    ‘Potter, you need to be careful.’
    Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.
    ‘Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge’s class could cost you much more than house points and a detention.’
    ‘What do you –?’
    ‘Potter, use your common sense,’ snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. ‘You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting.’
    The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.
    ‘It says here she’s given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,’ Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge’s note again.
    ‘Every evening this week!’ Harry repeated, horrified. ‘But, Professor, couldn’t you –?’
    ‘No, I couldn’t,’ said Professor McGonagall flatly.
    ‘But –’
    ‘She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o’clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.’
    ‘But I was telling the truth!’ said Harry, outraged. ‘Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is –’
    ‘For heaven’s sake, Potter!’ said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort’s name). ‘Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It’s about keeping your head down and your temper under control!’
    She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.
    ‘Have another biscuit,’ she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.
    ‘No, thanks,’ said Harry coldly.
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped.
    He took one.
    ‘Thanks,’ he said grudgingly.
    ‘Didn’t you listen to Dolores Umbridge’s speech at the start-ofterm feast, Potter?’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah … she said … progress will be prohibited or … well, it meant that … that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.’
    Professor McGonagall eyed him for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.
    ‘Well, I’m glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,’ she said, pointing him out of her office.

 
     
— CHAPTER THIRTEEN —
     
Detention with Dolores
    Dinner in the Great Hall