Determined not to give Snape an excuse to fail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of the instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione’s but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville’s, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape’s desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.
“Well, that wasn’t as bad as last week, was it?” said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the entrance hall toward lunch. “And the homework didn’t go too badly either, did it?”
When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, “I mean, all right, I didn’t expect the top grade, not if he’s marking to O.W.L. standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn’t you say?”
Harry made a noncommittal noise in his throat.
“Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we’ve got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we’re getting now are a sort of baseline, aren’t they? Something we can build on . . .”
They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.
“Obviously, I’d have been thrilled if I’d gotten an O —”
“Hermione,” said Ron sharply, “if you want to know what grades we got, ask.”
“I don’t — I didn’t mean — well, if you want to tell me —”
“I got a P,” said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. “Happy?”
“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry’s right. “Nothing wrong with a good healthy P.”
“But,” said Hermione, “doesn’t P stand for . . .”
“‘Poor,’ yeah,” said Lee Jordan. “Still, better than D, isn’t it? ‘Dreadful’?”
Harry felt his face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over his roll. When he emerged from this he was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about O.W.L. grades.
“So top grade’s O for ‘Outstanding,’” she was saying, “and then there’s A —”
“No, E,” George corrected her, “E for ‘Exceeds Expectations.’ And I’ve always thought Fred and I should’ve got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams.”
They all laughed except Hermione, who plowed on, “So after E, it’s A for ‘Acceptable,’ and that’s the last pass grade, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth, and swallowing it whole.
“Then you get P for ‘Poor’” — Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration — “and D for ‘Dreadful.’”
“And then T,” George reminded him.
“T?” asked Hermione, looking appalled. “Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?”
“‘Troll,’” said George promptly.
Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking. He imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that he had received T’s in all his O.W.L.s and immediately resolved to work harder from now on.
“You lot had an inspected lesson yet?” Fred asked them.
“No,” said Hermione at once, “have you?”
“Just now, before lunch,” said George. “Charms.”
“What was it like?” Harry and Hermione asked together.
Fred shrugged.
“Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick’s like, he treated her like a guest, didn’t seem to bother him at all. She didn’t say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it.”
“I can’t see old Flitwick getting marked down,” said George, “he usually gets everyone through their exams all right.”
“Who’ve you got this afternoon?” Fred asked Harry.
“Trelawney —”
“A T if ever I saw one —”
“— and Umbridge herself.”
“Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today,” said George. “Angelina’ll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices.”
But Harry did not have to wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts to meet Professor Umbridge. He was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Ron elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out Dream Oracles, look round.
“Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney,” said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. “You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?”
Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney’s seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag, and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.
Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses. “We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today,” she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. “Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other’s latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle.”
She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left toward Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati’s most recent dream.
Harry opened his copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly. She was making notes on her clipboard now. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney’s wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. Harry bent his head hurriedly over his book.
“Think of a dream, quick,” he told Ron, “in case the old toad comes our way.”