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There's still nothing in the papers, but we're hearing rumours that Dolores Umbridge is dead. There are a few who are saying she's dead at Harry's hands, though others are insisting she was killed by someone else and Harry permitted to take credit or blame, it's not entirely clear which.
Minerva, surely you've heard SOMETHING.
Sprout, Poppy, any updates on Cedric Diggory? The rumours sounded rather grim, where Diggory was concerned.
Minerva, surely you've heard SOMETHING.
Sprout, Poppy, any updates on Cedric Diggory? The rumours sounded rather grim, where Diggory was concerned.
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I had not been expecting it but mid-way through tea with some of my more hen-like friends (they are very good at keeping off the more predatory element of New London, simply because men are utterly uninterested in their conversation) an owl summoned me to Buckingham. Of course one cannot put such invitations off.
At first it seemed that He had forgotten that he had ever sent for me. He ignored my presence entirely, working on a diagram of some sort. The room was so dim I could not see what it was; his eyes have changed, perhaps, with whatever he has been doing to himself. Or he might have cast some localised charm upon himself to improve his sight. In any case, he worked quietly at it for awhile as I pretended not to be present.
Finally he looked up and said, 'the boy did his duty, in the end, Headmistress.' I did not at first understand what he meant. 'You never thought he could, did you? But I knew better. I always know better.'
He went on like that for some time before dismissing me. It was not a very enlightening interview; but from it I am given to understand that he intends to give me Hogwarts back (whatever the Board of Governors might say) and that he considers young Harry to have killed Madam Umbridge and to deserve accolades for the deed. And that my Occlumency, for the nonce, continues as strong as ever.
The truth is that Harry did not kill the woman, according to Miss Granger; she has apparently been turned into a toad and imprisoned in one of those horrible little kitten plates which used to decorate her office. The kittens in the plates have been freed and are happily wreaking havoc on the castle. Cedric Diggory, it seems, was a casualty of the mêlèe. A mystery man who showed up via Floo comes into it somehow—how, no one has seen fit to inform me—but as to his identity, I know nothing.
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I imagine Dolores's looks are much improved. Not to mention her personality.
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It was dead satisfying to do it, too.
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I'm afraid I can add little to what the Weasley twins shared with us in the journals: that there was an intruder in Madam Umbridge's office, that there were curses thrown, that Diggory was hit.
I would say that the curse used against Diggory was not the sort of thing I'd expect Dolores Umbridge to have cast on a student, though I can hardly guess what she might attempt against an intruder. With students, however, her inclination was to cause pain that could be aggravated or escalated with repeated application. In short, she far preferred sustained torture to lethal measures. The Sanguis Predonis curse straightforwardly intends to kill, but without any of the agony that she revelled in. Mr Diggory quietly fainted, and it was mere luck that Dolohov arrived on the scene to recognise the nature of his condition.
As for Madam Umbridge, I thought I understood Fred and George Weasley were claiming she's been transfigured into a toad and made into a decorative plate. Did you not see their exchange with Alice and Pomona?
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I'd missed it last night (and then again today, as I was going through the journals of likely suspects hoping to get caught up).
One advantage of swearing in the Institute: more people to hound for details when things happen at Hogwarts.
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At any rate, Dolohov calculated that if I had possessed only one dose of so precious a substance, I would not have spent it for him. Fortunately, I was not tested in that way. And I have now used my only remaining phial of Cinnabaris on Mr Diggory, about which I am not in any way sorry. Such situations, which are unfortunately not as rare as one could wish, are exactly why I have pressed without ceasing for a change of policy in the control of dragon's blood. It's ludicrous that healing institutions should not have access to a reasonable supply for this purpose.
Speaking of which, I am more deeply embroiled with Dolohov than ever as a result of this: when we transferred Mr Diggory to St Mungo's, he led them to believe that he had taken charge of the boy's care within minutes of the cursing. A lie. It was perhaps three-quarters of an hour before Dolohov discovered the situation, and at that remove, Cinnabaris was, indeed, the only hope he had. As any curse specialist at St Mungo's would know immediately. So Dolohov lied to protect me, and it succeeded, though his account was met with raised eyebrows and a dry remark that the Potions NEWTs must just have been brewing luck draughts because clearly Diggory had been sustained by some strong felicity to have been spared.
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For that matter, I don't know that anyone would begrudge Cedric Diggory two vials of Cinnabaris.
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