Chapter 274: Dumbledore's Speech
Phineas shook his head and said,
"Forget about her. Let's eat. Dumbledore might have something to say next."
Sure enough, once the students had eaten and drunk their fill, Dumbledore rose to his feet.
The previously noisy hall fell silent at once as all eyes turned to him.
"Well, now that we are digesting another extremely rich meal," Dumbledore began, his calm and reassuring voice echoing through the hall, "I ask everyone to quiet down and listen to the usual announcements for the new term."
"First-year students should be aware that the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds is strictly off-limits to all students. That applies to some of our older students as well," he added, giving Fred and George Weasley a pointed look, just as he had every year.
"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you—this being the four hundred and twenty-third time—that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes. A full list of rules, most of which you will likely never read, is posted on his office door."
"This year, we have two changes in our teaching staff. We are pleased to welcome Professor Sirius Black as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. And we also welcome Ms. Dolores Umbridge as Hogwarts' High Inquisitor."
A buzz of whispers broke out across the hall. The title "High Inquisitor" was unfamiliar, and its implications were clear—it was a position imposed by the Ministry of Magic. Was the Ministry trying to interfere in Hogwarts' affairs?
As several students exchanged uneasy glances, Dumbledore continued,
"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on—"
He abruptly stopped and turned to Ms. Umbridge beside him with a questioning look.
Umbridge's height made it difficult to tell whether she was standing or sitting. In fact, if one looked closely, she seemed even shorter than before. This uncertainty left everyone puzzled about Dumbledore's sudden silence.
At that moment, Umbridge cleared her throat.
Dumbledore showed only a flicker of surprise before sitting down gracefully, turning his gaze toward Umbridge with measured anticipation.
The other professors, however, looked far less composed. After all, the start-of-term speech was the Headmaster's time. In Ministry protocol, it was equivalent to the Minister's address—interrupting it was not only unusual but deeply impolite.
Phineas frowned. Dolores Umbridge was not known for overstepping without calculation. For someone with no notable lineage, a less-than-pleasant appearance, and yet a high position in the Ministry, she had always relied on strategy, not brashness. It was hard to believe she would do something like this without a reason. Then again, Dumbledore was never one to be rattled by such behavior.
A shrill, girlish voice rang out,
"Thank you, Headmaster."
Thank you? As Phineas had suspected, Umbridge's interruption was intentional, a subtle attempt to undermine Dumbledore's authority.
Still wearing that nauseatingly sweet smile, Umbridge continued,
"Thank you for your warm welcome."
Her voice was high-pitched, deliberately soft, with a breathy lilt meant to imitate a much younger girl's. When paired with her frilly pink outfit, it was nothing short of unbearable.
"Well, I must say, it's lovely to be back at Hogwarts, and to see so many happy little faces. I'm sure we'll all get along famously…"
"Ugh."
The sound escaped Phineas before he could stop it. He gagged—audibly.
He made no effort to hide his disgust. Umbridge turned to glare at him, her expression twitching with restrained fury. She clearly wanted to scold him but hesitated, recognizing his identity. Her face turned blotchy with anger, and she froze awkwardly in place.
It was a humiliation Umbridge could barely tolerate. She had disavowed her own father in pursuit of false reputation, and being made a fool of now, in front of the entire school, stung deeply.
After drawing a few shaky breaths, Umbridge continued,
"The Ministry of Magic has always believed that the education of young witches and wizards is a matter of great importance. If your innate magical gifts are not nurtured with proper care, they may yield no fruit. The ancient arts of magic must be passed down with diligence, or they risk being lost forever."
"The precious magical heritage of our ancestors is a treasure trove. Those fortunate enough to be educators must protect, refine, and preserve it."
She paused to bow toward the staff table, but none of the professors acknowledged her.
Phineas had to admit, she was formidable. Despite his earlier mockery, she regained her composure quickly and launched into another lengthy speech with gusto.
"Each headmaster of Hogwarts has introduced certain reforms while bearing the weight of managing this great institution. This is natural. Without change, there is stagnation. However—progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Our traditions have stood the test of time and rarely require foolish revision. What we must seek is balance…"
She went on. And on.
Phineas could barely keep his eyes open. The other students were whispering and fidgeting; the contrast with the quiet, respectful attention given to Dumbledore earlier was stark.
Astoria smiled as she quietly placed another bit of food onto Phineas's plate. He glanced down and realized his dish was full again—steak, chicken legs, mashed potatoes, winter melon soup…
"Leah, I'm full…" he muttered, exasperated.
In previous years, the food on the tables vanished when Dumbledore spoke. But now, Phineas and Astoria's plates remained untouched. Even the empty plates had been replaced.
Astoria giggled softly.
"I know. But I'm not done. I was going to take the rest back to the dorm."
Phineas sighed. So he'd become her mule.
The food supply system in the Great Hall had a small loophole: house-elves would only remove a plate if it was completely empty and unchanged. Astoria, by adding small bits of food periodically, had effectively frozen the clean-up timer.
Looking at the petite girl taking exaggeratedly long to chew a single piece of steak, Phineas shook his head. There was no way she'd finish soon.
Astoria noticed his look and blushed slightly.
"Well, didn't you say Professor Dumbledore gives long speeches? I thought I'd just eat slowly so I wouldn't get bored."
At the staff table, Umbridge was still talking—oblivious to the growing noise around her. She could probably keep talking through a firestorm.
Phineas scanned the staff. Most were doing their best to look attentive.
Well, not all.
Professor Flitwick had actually fallen asleep. Yes, he was fully asleep, chin to chest.
Snape stared in Umbridge's direction but seemed completely absorbed in some internal calculation. McGonagall's face was serious, but her arched brows suggested she was resisting the urge to interrupt—though her sense of propriety held her back.
Phineas sighed again, then turned to Astoria.
"By the way, Leah, didn't you stay in a room near the Headmaster's office last term?"
Astoria wiped foie gras from her mouth and nodded.
"Yes. I needed Fawkes's phoenix fire to suppress the curse. My magic was growing too fast and weakening my body before school started, so I had to stay close to him."
Phineas nodded. Hogwarts Castle had many hidden bedrooms left over from its origins as the Slytherin family's fortress. Before it became a school, it had housed a massive household. Even now, many old rooms remained—some converted into dormitories, others used as staff quarters or emergency lodging, like Astoria's.
"You've heard about the shadow prefect rule in Slytherin, right?"
Astoria nodded again.
"My father told me. Why?"
She wasn't surprised. Most Slytherin parents had once been Slytherin students themselves, and the tradition passed down easily. It was one reason Slytherin House remained so dominant in competitions like the House Cup. Aside from Snape's favoritism or Quidditch cheating, most Slytherins arrived with magical training. Ravenclaw might have had the most geniuses, but Slytherin had the most well-prepared.
Was it fair? Not really. But then again, what in the world ever is?
The Greengrass family had its own legacy. Every child for generations had been in Slytherin. No exceptions.
Phineas smiled.
"I figured you'd always lived alone and might not like a crowded dormitory. One of the shadow prefect perks is a private room. You could try for it. If you fail, you can have mine. I barely stay in the dorm anyway."
Astoria hesitated, then said,
"Let's try. I don't think any of the other new students can beat me."
Phineas glanced at the first-years at the Slytherin table. There were few, and only one came from a well-known family—the Averys. The rest were mixed-blood or from minor families.
Compared to the little princess of the Greengrass family, the difference was obvious.
Phineas smiled and let the matter drop.