A tangle of limbs was carrying her. Human hands disgustingly attached to animal bodies were grabbing at her. Poor imitations of human faces jeered at her evilly, laughing at her terror. Their harsh barbaric tongues and the horse-like sounds that escaped their mouths grazed at her ears. It was a nightmare; she could not get out of there. They were going to hurt her, those devilish faces twisted with evil. She could not escape, they had trampled upon her wand in evident jealousy of her magical abilities.
Dolores Jane Umbridge awoke from her nightmare with a bit of a start.
“Are you all right, Professor?” a kindly witch inquired.
“Quite alright,” Umbridge stuttered, “I’m quite fine.”
Stifled giggles could be faintly heard in the background. Umbridge forced herself to avoid looking in that direction. Where was she? The white plaster walls and the nurse helped her piece back her reality. The Hospital Wing. That was where she was, the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.
And those obnoxious giggles, those belonged to the wicked students at Hogwarts. The ones who had subjected her to near death. The deranged Potter who followed Dumbledore like a puppy and his friends. They enjoyed taunting her, one of them would make a little “clip-clop” noise with his tongue and she would find herself reliving the memories of that horrible night.
“I think I’ll go see Hagrid,” Potter said a bit loudly.
“Oh, alright,” replied one of his friends, unable to move due to his injuries. The sound of disappointment was apparent in his voice.
Umbridge watched him walk out of the room through the corner of her eye. His head was drooped and he was clearly unhappy. Good, Umbridge thought to herself, satisfied that he wasn’t getting away from his evildoings with a clean conscience, as his friends appeared to be.
“I think you should rest Professor Umbridge.” It was the nurse again, what was her name? Ah yes, Pomfrey. “How about I give you a sleeping potion?”
Umbridge nodded, and croaked, “Make it Dreamless, please.”
The nurse nodded and Dolores rubbed her throat unhappily. The results of her trauma still lingered with her in her distraction and her weak voice. Madam Pomfrey came back with the Dreamless Draught and Dolores swallowed it in one gulp.
Over the next few days, she improved greatly. Physically at least. Mentally, she was still scarred. She refused to read the newspapers. During her ordeal, her entire world had come crumbling down around her. The government she had worked in and whose beliefs she had strictly enforced and kept alive had turned it’s back on her. It was the ultimate betrayal.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back. As stubborn as she was, Dolores always felt shameful whenever she recalled how defiantly she had denied that. She did not like to admit defeat, so whenever those memories arose, she skillfully removed them to the back of her thoughts. It was a practice she had long learned to acquire since her rise in power.
Even as a child, Dolores had realized that life would not be easy for her. Her sister had absorbed all the looks in the gene pool and left Dolores with the true gifts of intelligence and persuasion. Thus, while her sister was downstairs as the center of attention in the family, Dolores had hidden upstairs in her room, with piles of books to comfort her.
It was when she arrived at Hogwarts that she realized that she had an excellent gift. Lacking greatly in self-confidence, she secretly clung to the belief that she was superior to the Muggle-borns because of her lineage. And it showed in her magical ability, she quickly rose to be the top of her class.
Once at the top, she first learned the meaning of power. The other students in her classes would always flock to her for help. Without her younger, lovely sister there, Dolores was the center of attention. If someone called her a name, she would simply refuse to help them. Or, she could curse them, and they would be unable to defend themselves because she had not taught them the shield charm.
However this power was shaky. When Dolores graduated from Hogwarts (with 12 N.E.W.T.s) she found herself once again the ugly, grouchy hag that no one talked to. Her former classmates no longer needed her to succeed in school and abandoned her. So she focused her sight on the Ministry.
With her excellent grades it had been easy to get in, she was given the job of secretary to an obscure office. She did not stay in that position long. With the attacks of Lord Voldemort, co-workers were falling left and right. It was a time of terror for Dolores. For though she disliked Muggle-borns, to eliminate them entirely would mean that some other wizards and witches would have to take their place on the bottom rung of the social ladder. And Dolores realized that she would be one of the witches to fill in that space.
Thus she worked diligently at both her original job and dozens of others that had been opened. She soon knew everyone in the Ministry. It was in this way that she met Cornelius Fudge.
He was an awkward looking wizard, rather short and pudgy. He had an annoying habit of wringing his hands incessantly and fiddling around with an ugly green bowler hat to which he had a fond attachment. Dolores had imagined that he would become another face at the Ministry, someone unimportant who might help her on her ascent to power.
But her friendship with Fudge had proved to be the best acquaintance she had ever made. For when You-Know-Who mysteriously disappeared, Fudge became a candidate in the next election. At first it seemed rather fool-hardy, he was running against Bartemius Crouch, a famous auror.
However, the fortune changed in Fudge’s favor when a startling revelation was made. Crouch’s son turned out to be a Death Eater and died in Azkaban.
Crouch did his best to keep the revelation secret, but Fudge, proving to be more ambitious than Dolores could have fathomed, did his best to exploit his rival.
Years ago…(good ol’ January 1981)at the Leaky Cauldron
“Dolores! How good it is to see you again!” Fudge rose from his small table in the corner to shake her hand enthusiastically.
“The same to you, Cornelius,” Dolores replied, letting a lopsided smile spread across her face. “May I inquire as to the occasion? You’ve been such a busy man lately, with the election and all, I scarcely get to see you.”
She let a high-pitched girly giggle escape her lips after that statement. Cornelius smiled at her knowingly.
“Well, I’ve come for some help,” he admitted sheepishly. “Ever since I got nominated I’ve been swamped with work.”
“I’d love to help you, Cornelius,” Dolores simpered to him. She was more eager to gain his favor now that he had proved influential enough to get nominated. However, she was still wary. Being a candidate opposing such a popular figure, he could easily fall out of favor.
All of a sudden, a slim, blonde witch approached the table. Umbridge felt her lip curl instantly in dislike, as it did for anyone she felt was more attractive than her.
“Hello, my name is Rita Skeeter,” the woman announced in a confident voice. “I work for the Daily Prophent.”
“Oh, most excellent!” Cornelius exclaimed. “I have a lot to tell. The Prophet may sell fast after you interview me.”
“Mmm-hmm,” this Skeeter woman didn’t seem very intrigued by his proposition. “Do tell.”
She pulled out a spare bit of parchment and an ugly quill the same color as Fudge’s bowler hat and waited for him to start speaking.
“Oh, yes, ahem,” Cornelius coughed nervously. “Well my manager and I…”
Manager? Dolores though apprehensively, He sure can’t mean me, can he? I hope he doesn’t! But it became quite clear that he did. As Fudge rambled on about his campaign, Dolores glanced nervously at the quill that seemed to be writing upon it’s own accord.
“Mr. Fudge,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, looking bored. “What are your opinions about you opposition, Mr. Crouch?”
“Oh, well, he’s a nice man, but there’s his family…” Fudge began, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“What about his family?” Rita leaned forward in spite of herself and Dolores shot Fudge a puzzled look. She had known Fudge for a while and she knew that his shock was feigned. He had meant to say that.
“Well…” Fudge poured out the entire story, and the reporter’s quill appeared to be having seizures of delight as it relished in the troubles of Mr. Crouch. All of a sudden, Dolores felt delighted that he had called her his manager. With all this dirt on Crouch, people could not look the other way. He really has a chance at this, Dolores realized.
Rita Skeeter appeared to think so as well. After the interview was done she treated both him and Umbridge with considerable more respect. Fudge thanked her and they watched her leave the Leaky Cauldron.
“Now,” Fudge turned to her, “About our campaign…”
Those had been her golden days. Fudge had been her dearest friend and she was eager to help him in the Wizarding World. Though she began to notice he had an annoying habit of referring to Dumbledore for advice. Slowly, under her skillful manipulation, she managed to break those ties.
Fudge grew to depend more on her opinion than Dumbledore’s. And so he put her in place at his school. Dolores had thought that after controlling the Ministry, a children’s school would be easy to handle. She was wrong, and that was the mistake that cost her a terrible price: her pride.
She had planned to sneak out of Hogwarts to avoid everyone noticing her. Madam Pomfrey had helped her pack her carpet bag up. While almost everyone was down at the Great Feast, Umbridge carefully tiptoed out of the Hospital Wing.
She had a few close scares, almost running into Potter and some other blonde Ravenclaw, but at long last she made it to the door. She was going to leave the school that had been a nightmare for her. A virtual hell. Bravely, she put her hand on the doorknob.
“PFFFFFFFFFFFFT!”
A large wet raspberry had been blown in her left ear. She turned to see the disgusting poltergeist, Peeves, grinning maliciously at her.
“No Peeves, not now,” she pleaded. He paid her no heed and hit her with a sock full of chalk instead. She felt around for her wand, but then realized in dismay that it had been stamped on.
Clonk!
Peeves had procured a cane from somewhere. Umbridge felt her temper foul.
“Off with you!” she cried.
Clonk. Clonk.
She couldn’t turn back now. Not with her exit so close.
Clonk. Clonk.
Bravely, she turned the door knob and ran out as fast as she could go. Unfortunately, this was about as fast as a snail, and Peeves followed her the entire way.
She could only hope the school had been so intent on it’s feast that they hadn’t noticed her leave…