Chapter 276: Hogwart's High Inquisitor
No one was a match for Phineas. Was there anyone who dared to challenge him?
After scanning the room and confirming that no one intended to step forward, Phineas began.
"Very well. Then this year, Adrian Pucey will remain your prefect. I still want the privileges of the position. That's our deal, isn't it? Until one of you defeats me, you can only agree to this."
Phineas smirked disdainfully and turned back toward his dormitory. The Slytherin students in the common room clenched their teeth but remained silent.
Initially, they had agreed to this arrangement because they didn't want supporters of Sirius Black as their prefect. To preserve their unity, they sacrificed their own prefect rights. But even now, with time passed, none of them could defeat Phineas—so his arrangement continued.
As Phineas had anticipated, the start of the term brought interference from Umbridge, acting under her new title: High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.
The Ministry had recently issued an educational decree restricting Dumbledore's authority, particularly over professor appointments. Umbridge had been granted the power to inspect and evaluate Hogwarts staff.
She didn't follow any particular schedule or pattern in her inspections and wasn't limited to specific grades. Her first target was Professor Flitwick's Charms class—incidentally, the class for Phineas's year, shared with Gryffindor.
Fortunately, Umbridge did not directly interfere during the lesson. She sat in the corner scribbling notes on her clipboard, observing without interrupting.
It might have been due to Professor Flitwick's reputation. Though mild in manner, he treated Umbridge as an unimportant guest, exuding calm confidence. As one of Britain's most skilled duelists, he was not someone easily trifled with.
Many had once mocked Flitwick's goblin heritage. In his youth, he had developed his combat skills and silenced every critic through sheer ability. Now, no one dared insult him.
After that inspection, Umbridge moved on to Divination—the class for Harry's year, taught by Professor Trelawney.
Phineas decided to observe this one. With his Third Eye awakened, he was a legitimate seer himself, and no one questioned his attendance in Trelawney's class.
He settled quietly in a dark corner. Unless someone looked closely, they wouldn't notice a student out of place.
Class was about to begin when Umbridge climbed up from the trapdoor. Her presence immediately silenced the chatter among the students.
Professor Trelawney, in the middle of distributing The Dream Oracle, visibly stiffened at the sight of Umbridge.
"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Umbridge sweetly. "I trust you received my notice about the date and time of your inspection?"
Trelawney nodded stiffly and turned away without replying. She continued handing out the textbooks.
Unbothered, Umbridge dragged a chair to the front of the room, sat down primly, and pulled out her clipboard, ready to observe.
What she thought was graceful and composed struck the students as painfully artificial.
Trelawney adjusted her shawl and peered through her large spectacles, her hands trembling slightly.
"Today, we will continue studying prophetic dreams," she announced, her voice louder but more nervous than usual. "Please pair up and share your recent dreams using The Dream Oracle."
Phineas paid little attention to the lesson content. Having already mastered basic divination and being a true seer, he focused entirely on Umbridge, observing her closely.
After assigning the task, Trelawney tried to return to her seat, but upon noticing Umbridge nearby, she veered toward Parvati and the others instead.
Eventually, Umbridge began circulating the room alongside Trelawney, scribbling ceaselessly on her board.
Then came the question that signaled the beginning of the end.
"So," said Umbridge, "how long have you held this position?"
Trelawney crossed her arms and hunched defensively. After a pause, she answered stiffly, "Nearly sixteen years."
"Ah. Hired by Professor Dumbledore, I presume?"
"Yes."
"And you are the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney?"
"I am," said Trelawney proudly, lifting her chin.
"But as I understand, you're the first seer in your family since Cassandra?"
"Sight often skips generations. It can reappear every few generations," she replied, defensive now.
Umbridge smiled, falsely sweet. "Would you be willing to do something for me, Professor?"
Phineas could feel Trelawney tense.
"I—I don't understand?"
"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," Umbridge said with feigned innocence.
Phineas frowned. This was a trap—Trelawney was the first target.
"T-the Inner Eye does not perform on command," Trelawney stammered.
"I see," Umbridge said, unaffected, scribbling away.
"I—wait—wait! I do see something—yes…" Trelawney trembled, pointing at Umbridge.
"I see danger… blackness… something terrible coming for you."
The smile faded from Umbridge's face.
"I fear—yes—I fear something dreadful lies in your path."
Umbridge made another note. "Is that all?" she said coolly, before turning and leaving.
Trelawney stood frozen, visibly shaking.
Phineas sighed. Trelawney's reputation among students was poor, but her classes were always full.
Her fate was already sealed. There was no alternative. Professor Trelawney would become the Ministry of Magic's sacrificial offering to establish Umbridge's authority—the proverbial "chicken killed to scare the monkeys."
When the bell rang, Umbridge, who had been standing beside the trapdoor, was the first to descend the silver ladder and leave the classroom.
Phineas sighed as he watched her retreat. Trelawney could be sacrificed to secure authority, but Sirius Black was a different matter—he would be a necessary target.
As tensions between Phineas and the Ministry grew, Sirius's open support for Dumbledore placed him directly in Umbridge's crosshairs. His position at Hogwarts was viewed by the Ministry as evidence of Dumbledore's lingering control. If the Ministry wanted complete dominance over the school, Sirius had to be removed.
Phineas just didn't yet know when or how Umbridge would act. Despite its decline, the Black family still wielded considerable influence. Even a weakened giant is more formidable than an upstart wearing borrowed power—and Umbridge was exactly that.
Umbridge's inspections didn't stop with Trelawney. They continued unabated.
But her next target wasn't the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Instead, she appeared in the Transfiguration classroom.
When Phineas arrived, he saw her already seated stiffly in the corner, clipboard in hand.
Professor McGonagall didn't seem surprised. Umbridge had, after all, sent advance notice—she wouldn't risk being accused of improper procedure.
"Alright," Professor McGonagall said sharply to quiet the classroom. "Today we will continue our study of the fundamental principles of human transfiguration and its counter-charms."
Umbridge gave a dainty cough, clearly intending to interrupt.
McGonagall ignored her completely.
Umbridge coughed again, louder this time, seeking attention.
Phineas could practically feel her frustration boiling—being ignored touched a nerve rooted deep in her insecurity and vanity.
"What is it?" McGonagall snapped, her tone sharp, her eyebrows drawn together.
"Professor," Umbridge said with forced sweetness, "I would like to confirm you received my notification regarding today's inspection—"
"If I hadn't," McGonagall cut in coldly, "I wouldn't have let you into my classroom."
She turned her back on Umbridge without another word.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Umbridge's expression twisted. She coughed again—more a demand than a symptom.
"I do not understand!" she said shrilly.
McGonagall turned back to her, eyes flashing. "If you keep interrupting, how can you possibly understand my teaching methods? I never permit interruptions when I am speaking."
Umbridge stood frozen, as though slapped. Her face turned an ugly shade of red as she furiously scratched notes onto her clipboard.
But no one cared—not the students, not McGonagall. She wasn't just another professor—she was the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. If Dumbledore were to leave or be removed, the castle itself would recognize her as its rightful leader.
McGonagall resumed the lesson without another glance at Umbridge.
"As I said, the Restoration Charm is closely linked with the Vanishing Spell we studied earlier…"
Umbridge did not interrupt again. She had quickly realized that McGonagall was different from the other professors. She would not tolerate nonsense, regardless of Ministry titles or borrowed power. Especially not in her classroom.
When the bell rang and class ended, Umbridge rose and approached.
"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked curtly, her face pale with restrained fury.
"This December will mark thirty-nine years," McGonagall replied coolly.
"Very well. You will receive the results of your inspection within ten days."
"I look forward to it."
McGonagall's icy tone was more scathing than any insult.