Chapter 12

A few days later Olwyna was soaring above the forest, nearing the end of another journey to Surrey and back, bearing yet another letter from the unemployed wordsmith, Rita Skeeter. It was early in October, and the day a glorious sudden return to the warmth of the summer just passed. Olwyna was not more than an hour from her perch in the Hogwarts owlery, but she was very hungry, and had to break her journey for a quick snack. Dropping to tree level, she kept a close watch on a clearing directly in her path. Effortlessly she picked up the tell-tale signs of a rodent rustling under the autumn leaves, and immediately she honed in on the source of the noise.

The mouse's hearing wasn't bad either, and it detected the very faint wing sounds of the approaching predator. It froze - perhaps the owl would not know its exact location. A fatal error as it turned out, for the hungry barn owl knew exactly where the mouse had paused under the leaves. In no time her talons enveloped the poor creature, and Olwyna ended its suffering with a quick squeeze, her sharp claws very efficient. After swallowing the mouse whole, Olwyna resumed her journey, feeling much more cheerful.

But owls have predators, too, and as Imogen's bird made her way over the Forbidden Forest on her final approach to the castle, she was being closely observed by a hawk circling several hundred feet above her. Olwyna usually hunted by sound, but the hawk hunted by sight, and his keen vision had located Olwyna long before. The hawk did not know why he had been instructed to watch for a returning barn owl, nor did he care, and as his prey headed for the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he began his deep vertical stoop, preparing to take Olwyna just after she passed the small lake.

But luck was with Olwyna, for she spotted the hawk's shadow beneath her, throwing up her wings and breaking at the last instant as the hawk shot passed her, feeling a shock of pain in her wing - a very near miss indeed. Quickly Olwyna rushed for the security of the forest before the hawk could recover and resume the attack. Safely in a tree, she waited until dark, correctly judging that even the hawk's superior vision would not be able to spot her as she made a mad dash for the owlery in the darkness of night. Once inside, she went high into the rafters to be comforted by her owl friends. But hardly had she settled in when a human entered - the filthy one who smelled of cat.

"Olwynaaaa... " Flitch called softly, doing his best to sound endearing. He was even dirtier than usual, his wrinkled clothes a mess. Priot to the owl's arrival, he had been in his dungeon quarters, wondering for the thousandth time why he had been so foolish as to remain in the wizarding world, when as a squib, he could not take part in it except in a most diminished way. Most squibs chose to live as muggles, and at least in that world they could get some respect. The last few days had been bad for him - he had hoped that under Umbridge, his status would be elevated. And indeed it had. But the cheer he got from this was short-lived, and the old feelings of inferiority had returned. If only he had followed the path of his older brother, also a squib, but with a successful career as a "software developer" - whatever that was. Filch had just begun a bout of heavy drinking when he got the word of Olwyna's return, and he had standing orders from Umbridge to snatch any letter Olwyna was carrying before Imogen could get it. He'd put the bottle aside and made his way quickly but unsteadily to the owlery.

"Come down girl - I've got a nice treat for you..."

Olwyna answered to the call, moving to a beam just over the man's head.

"That's a girl," said Filtch, reaching up for her. "Come with me now for your treat."

Olwyna responded by releasing a large load of droppings on the man, much of it landing on his outstretched hands, but a good-sized portion smacking him in the face. Satisfied, Olwyna flew up to the peak of the owlery, where she could enjoy the man's sounds of disgust, safely out of reach. To Filtch, the screeching sound Olwyna made sounded very much like "Squiiiiiiib".

The next day in Defence against the Dark Arts, Umbridge sat at her desk, quill in hand, the students all reading their text books. She'd been 'teaching' them for a month now, and they'd learned nothing, their wands never out, their books always open, and usually their mouths shut. Umbridge's classes were time she used not for lessons, but instead for working on administrative and other matters. At present she was composing a letter to the Ministry, explaining that she was soon to place Professor Trelwaney on probation, as a prelude to sacking her. But Umbridge was deprived of the pleasure she would normally associate with writing such a letter, and put her quill down. She surveyed the class, and her eyes naturally fell on the source of the disquiet within her: Imogen.

Umbridge had had reports of Imogen's owl coming and going at intervals, and the Ministry had been keen to know with whom the strange girl was corresponding. Umbridge wondered whether Imogen's new friends were using her owl as a way of communicating with the fugitive Sirius Black, who had been spotted at King's Cross station in his animagus form at the start of term. The hawk attack the previous evening on Imogen's owl had been a failure, and so Umbridge was unenlightened.

Imogen was a most suspicious character, for her parentage was unknown, and her explanation for her late arrival at the school unlikely in the extreme. The Ministry had investigated the other wizarding schools, thinking that perhaps Imogen had been recruited from Beauxbatons or some other place by Dumbledore to join Hogwarts. That this suspicion made no sense at all never occurred to Umbridge, or anyone else at the Ministry, but it served to keep a minor department busy, satisfying the small minds of many of those in Fudge's service that they were doing their part to keep the Ministry safe from encroachment.

Umbridge was interrupted from her reverie when she observed a note being passed. With a quick, silent wave of her wand, she summoned the parchment to her, and had the pleasure of viewing a rather unkind cariciture of herself. At her age she should be long past feeling the pain associated with childhood taunts, but it hurt just as much now as it did years before to be compared to a toad.

"Dean," she said, holding up the drawing, "Did you draw this?"

"Yes," he replied at once. "I did my best."

"I think you're trying to show your contempt for me!"

"No, professor," he replied. "I'm trying to hide it." The class admired his wit in silence.

"Detention, Mr. Thomas. I will see you at my office one hour after dinner." Dean nodded resignedly. By now the students knew what detention with Delores Umbridge meant. Many of them had encountered the quill, Dean several times and now past caring. During his most recent confinement in Umbridge's office, he had taken advantage of her want of attention, and had etched into his hand the words, "Umbridge is a git." He'd returned in triumph to the common room to display his scarred hand.

Imogen continued to read the third year Defence text in silence, struggling not to laugh at the exchange she had just heard. Umbridge was so thick - it was impossible for her to get into a battle of words with a student without being bested. After her first class with Umbridge, Imogen had been very careful not to provoke her - her mission would be a complete failure were she to be expelled, and Umbridge in her role of High Inquisitor was assuming more and more power.

The class finally came to an end, and the students were dismissed, the Gryffindors waiting until they were all in the hallway and the classroom door closed to praise Dean for his remark.

"Dean, that was really rather good!" said Hermione.

"Yeah," said Ron enthusiastically. "Maybe it's even worth another evening with her stupid quill."

"I'm not sure about that," said Dean. "My hand still hurts from the last time." Hermione invited Dean to come to the common room immediately - she had prepared an anaesthetic potion to give the next person assigned detention with Umbridge. Dean accepted gratefully.