With the announcement of the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, the Great Hall once again filled with a low buzz of chatter.
Especially at the Slytherin table, where several of Jon's "new classmates" had gathered close together.
"She's one of Fudge's people," Draco Malfoy whispered, leaning in. "Dolores Umbridge—she's Fudge's most trusted ally."
"I remember that name," Pansy Parkinson said quietly. "Wasn't she the daughter of Orford Umbridge—the old Squib janitor at the Ministry—and a Muggle woman?"
"That's right," Malfoy sneered. "She always denies it, claiming instead that she's a Selwyn by blood."
"I can't say I've ever seen a Selwyn that ugly," said Tiffany Selwyn, sitting beside Astoria Greengrass. She gave a disdainful glance toward the staff table before lowering her head again.
"But my father says it's best to stay on her good side this term," Malfoy continued in a cautious tone, glancing around before lowering his voice. "The Ministry's planning to interfere with Hogwarts soon. Her arrival is the first sign of it..."
"Does that mean the Dark—" Sean Avery began, then hesitated, casting a wary look at Jon.
"Chris's from Durmstrang," Malfoy said, nodding toward him. "He's a trustworthy friend."
Jon felt both surprised and awkwardly flattered, nodding quickly in agreement.
Young Avery still looked doubtful but said nothing more.
Jon mused silently to himself, "Does this count as infiltrating enemy territory?"
It seemed that this small circle of second-generation Death Eaters—and a few like-minded Slytherins—had formed their own little group.
What reassured him somewhat was that the Greengrass sisters weren't part of it. They hadn't even bothered to glance their way.
...
At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore continued, "The House Quidditch team tryouts will be held—"
A fit of sharp coughing suddenly cut him off.
Dumbledore paused and turned toward Professor Umbridge, eyebrows raised questioningly.
The pink toad cleared her throat delicately.
"May I say a few words, Headmaster?"
Her voice was high and girlish—though only in sound. The sound itself was shrill and unpleasant.
A flicker of surprise crossed Dumbledore's face, but he quickly composed himself, sitting back down and gazing at her with apparent interest, as if eager to hear her out.
The other teachers didn't look nearly as amused. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had almost vanished into her fluffy hair, Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line, and Professor Snape's face had gone dark as he stared down at the table.
No one had ever dared interrupt the Headmaster before; this newcomer clearly didn't understand how things worked at Hogwarts.
"Thank you, Headmaster!" Umbridge said sweetly, still wearing that saccharine smile. "Well, I must say, it's truly wonderful to return to Hogwarts as a teacher. Seeing all these happy little faces looking up at me—it's just delightful! I so look forward to getting to know each of you better. I'm sure we'll become the very best of friends."
She let out a tinkling laugh—like a tiny bell—revealing sharp, pointed teeth beneath her smile.
But then her voice abruptly shifted. The girlish tone vanished, replaced by the harsh, authoritative bark of a matron.
"The Ministry of Magic has always believed that the education of young witches and wizards is of utmost importance..."
"The ancient arts unique to our magical world must be preserved through the generations, lest they fade away entirely..."
"Progress for its own sake should never be pursued. Our traditions have stood the test of time and need no crude revisions..."
"We must steadfastly uphold what should be preserved, perfect what needs refinement, and cast away what ought to be forbidden."
The speech dragged on for a full ten minutes—and it was excruciatingly dull.
Most students had tuned out long ago. Some were whispering to each other, some were sneaking glances at newspapers and magazines, and others tried—poorly—to look as if they were paying attention.
Jon, however, really was listening, though he made sure to look as though his mind was elsewhere.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few interesting reactions at the staff table: Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout exchanged a knowing look; Professor Moody's magical eye spun restlessly, following Umbridge's every movement; and Dumbledore, seizing the distraction, slipped a spoonful of chocolate pudding into his mouth.
When Umbridge finally finished, Dumbledore was the first to start clapping. The rest of the teachers and students joined in hesitantly, their applause scattered and unenthusiastic.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore said graciously. "That was most enlightening." He inclined his head slightly toward her before continuing, "As I was saying—the Quidditch team tryouts will take place..."
...
Jon had no interest in when the tryouts were scheduled; it had nothing to do with him.
When Dumbledore dismissed everyone, the sound of scraping chairs filled the hall as students began rising from their seats.
Jon lingered for a moment, pretending to be lost in thought. No ghost or portrait appeared to summon him to Dumbledore's office, so he finally relaxed, stood up, and followed the crowd toward the doors.
"This way, first-years..." Draco Malfoy was directing the newcomers alongside Pansy Parkinson. He gave Jon a brief nod before turning back to the others.
Jon looked around for Crabbe and Goyle, hoping they could escort him to the Slytherin common room—after all, he didn't know the password yet.
But the two oafs were already gone, probably having bolted the moment Dumbledore dismissed the crowd, unable to stomach another word of Umbridge's speech.
Just then, a girl approached him.
"You're the exchange student, right?" she asked softly.
Jon blinked, his mouth twitching slightly before he nodded.
"You probably don't know where our common room is yet," said the girl, who looked a little older than him. "Follow me."
Then, glancing back over her shoulder, she added, "My name is Greengrass—Daphne Greengrass."