Chapter 5
Off the Record
No one can see the wind, but you know it exists, because you can see the leaves moving. In much the same way, this was how the staff of The Fourth Estate knew that students were reading their paper. Every time they would check the places they had hidden their copies of the paper, they would be gone. And every now and then, one of the Ravenclaws would hear someone whisper about an article or an exposé in their most recent edition. Also, they would occasionally see members of the Inquisitorial Squad with singed fingertips.
The earth certainly hadn’t been shaken by their little paper, but the paper most certainly had created a stir.
Observing Umbridge’s reactions from the date of their first printing proved to be quite entertaining as well. At first, she just appeared slightly more observant and paranoid of students whispering in the corridors. Lisa herself had observed on numerous occasions the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher prying conversing students apart, demanding to know the subject of their conversations. Lisa actually knew the day that Umbridge first saw The Fourth Estate for herself. She had come to Ravenclaw Defense Against the Dark Arts class with her hands wrapped in bandages stinking of burn ointment. Of course, this prompted a whole new round of the Question Game from the all too curious Ravenclaws.
“What happened?”
“Did you burn yourself? What degree?”
“Have you been keeping the wound dry? How often have you been applying ointment to it?”
“Is it really gross?”
“Did you get it fighting some sort of Dark Art? Is that what today’s lessons will be about?”
“Can we see it?”
Umbridge put a swift end to the game, however, by taking away fifteen points from Ravenclaw for nosiness.
“Little children who ask too many questions often find themselves in more trouble than they ever intended,” she told them in a voice that might have sounded sweet to anyone else, but now just made everyone’s skin crawl.
Lisa, Mandy, and Morag could all sense the veiled reference to their newspaper, and, of course, trust Morag to take it one step too far.
“But little children who don’t ask questions don’t learn anything, and isn’t that the whole point of school?” she asked, peering over the black rims of her glasses. “If we’re done learning, can I go back to bed?”
A breath of air popped out of Umbridge in a little puff, as though she still weren’t used to the audacity of teenagers. “Twenty additional points from Ravenclaw, Miss MacDogal,” Umbridge said in a dangerous, yet sugary tone, “and I will see you in detention tonight.”
Mandy looked back from her seat beside Padma Patil with a worried expression on her face. The Quickslitter Quill had become Umbridge’s consistent means of discipline, and as Mandy had actually written an article detailing every aspect of the torture device that Morag would be subjected to tonight, she had a better idea than anyone of what her fellow staff member was about to face.
But Morag simply reclined back in her chair, appearing as calm and content as could be.
“It was worth it,” she whispered to Lisa once Umbridge had settled into the day’s mindless drivel.
After supper, in the fifth-year dormitories, Lisa went back and forth between revising a Transfiguation essay and pasting together various notes from an article listing off the books that had disappeared from the Hogwarts library since the beginning of the school year. It wasn’t working very well, though, because her attention kept shifting to the doorway, waiting for Morag. Mandy appeared to be having the same problem over by her own nest of schoolbooks and parchments.
Although Lisa had never been subjected to the torture of the of the Quickslitter Quill herself, she had seen plenty of students humbled by the instrument, And although Mandy had included nothing about it in her article, there was a rumor that if someone was forced to write with the quill for long enough, it would eventually cut down to the point where you could actually see bone. Lisa looked down at the watch she was keeping beside her books, It had been exactly three hours, seventeen minutes, and twenty-three seconds since Morag had left the Ravenclaw common room for her detention with Umbridge.
Lisa wished she had some sort of mathematical formula that could be used to calculate how much time Morag had before she cut through to her bones.
All the obsessing with the door turned out to do little good, as Morag burst through the door when Lisa was mid-sentence on her essay on her essay, the surprise leading to a large ink blot right in the middle of the parchment.
Morag didn’t appear overly pained or distressed, although there was a thick wrapping of red-stained gauze around her right hand. In fact, she waltzed right over to her bed, dropped to the floor, and pulled out a shoe box containing all her news notes.
“Alright!” Morag pushed Lisa’s school things aside. “I have my notes for the profiles of the members of the Inquisitorial Squad. I’m pretty sure if we combine everything the five of us have, we can make it into a full page feature. You know what else we should do? We should start doing a crossword. This week, let’s have all the answers be names of members of the Inquisitorial Squad. It would be funny, and it would help students remember who to watch out for.”
Morag chattered on and on, waving her left hand as she spoke, but keeping her right folded in her lap. Lisa couldn’t help but stare down at the bandages and the blood seeping through, as though it might actually form the letters Morag had been forced to write.
“Stewart’s become something of our staff shutterbug lately; maybe he can snap a few candid pictures of the Squad members. We can crop them down into profiles later…”
Morag’s voice trailed off when she noticed Lisa staring at her. When Lisa finally noticed this, she jerked away, embarrassed. She wasn’t quite convinced of the proper etiquette when it came to war wounds. But Morag just smirked in the manner of someone who was, by no means, beaten or broken.
“Want to see it?” she asked, unwrapping the gauze before Lisa could even answer.
Beneath the bandages, Morag’s hand was smeared with dry blood, but her skin was still angry red without it. The area around the writing was still heavily inflamed and the words were cut deep: Asking too many question often has unpleasant consequences. Thankfully, though, Lisa could see no white fragments in the wound.
“Isn’t it wicked?” Morag asked, sounding slightly too excited for the occasion. “Do you think you’ll be able to still read it once the scar forms? I am so going to be one of those cool grannies!”
Lisa nodded, but it was in a grim sort of manner. “You should really take it to Madam Pomfrey.” It was clear that absolutely nothing had been done to treat the wound.
Morag snatched her hand away as though she were afraid that Lisa might break it off at the wrist and take it to Madam Pomfrey by itself. “Are you kidding? Not before I get a picture of it! I want documentation just in case the scar doesn’t retain its shape!”
Then, Morag’s hand went up in a ‘Eureka’ sort of gesture. “Oh! This should be our photo feature for our next edition! We could add a notice to this week’s asking people to send us photos of the lines they were asked to write. I’m not sure where we would have them sent or how we would pull it off, but we have to figure it out tonight! Can you imagine the scandal it would create if one of those copies were accidently-on-purpose leaked out into the public? All that Ministry support would dry up in an instant!”
Morag carried on and on, and Lisa couldn’t believe it. If it had been her hand that had been sliced open like that, she doubted she would be so chatty and open. And she certainly wouldn’t be so ecstatic about the idea of have such a large scar for the rest of her life.
“I wonder if Madam Pomfrey actually takes photos of the injuries that come into her,” Morag mused aloud. She seems like the sort who would. She has been extremely vocal about the use of the Quickslitter and keeping photographs of the results would be the best way to put an end to this.”
In a sudden burst of emotion that Lisa couldn’t even begin to understand, Lisa nearly tackled Morag over with a crushing hug. Morag screeched as though she were being mauled by a wild animal, and it was enough to get Mandy to look up from her own work.
As said, none of the girls had been especially close before this year. They had all been sorted into the same House, they all slept in the same room, and they certainly spent a certain amount of time talking to one another. They certainly knew more about one another than they knew about any of their other school acquaintances, and yet they never became any closer than to say good-night to one another just before going to bed.
The Fourth Estate had changed all that. It had given these three girls a sense of solidarity that went deeper than mere schoolgirl friendships. They were like brothers…sisters…brothers and sisters in arms. Eventually, even Mandy joined them on Lisa’s bed, though there was no hugging on her part.
The nightly ritual was complete with Padma Patil stumbling into the room just barely making curfew. Every night, the girl would go to bed more and more drain, and getting closer and closer to breaking the rules she was supposed o be enforcing. Some example of a prefect!
“Hi, Padma,” they all said in unison.
Padma groaned a noncommittal sound as she strolled zombie-like over to her bed, just before dropping facedown onto the covers, not bothering to crawl under them. None of the other girls had the heart to move her, and as prefect, it was possible she would take away house points for disturbing the girl’s sleep.
“Good-night, Padma.”
“Girls, girls!” Stewart raced up the stairs and practically threw himself through the bedroom door. “I have the most amazing thing for our new feature photo section!”
Morag took the first guess. “Madam Pomfrey actually does keep photos of the Quickslitter injuries?”
“No.” Stewart shook his head, but the wide smile still remained on his face. “I found a way to make our pictures move even after they’ve been printed on the Muggle printing press!”
Lisa offered the boy a soft smile and took the scrap of paper Stewart had been waving around. They had come to learn that even if a photograph could move in the original printing, once they had been put through the Muggle printing press, they remained frozen in place exactly where they had been found. True, she could have thought of about a half-dozen things that would have made for better news for the paper, but with their high anticipations for the Quickslitter feature, these really needed these pictures to pop. Especially since they still didn’t have that many pictures to show.
“He said we would need a fine mister for the potion,” the boy continued on, “but they have plenty of those in the Potions classroom.”
This last sentence disturbed Lisa, especially when she began to recognize the fine, spidery script that the potion recipe was written in.
“Stewart,” she asked cautiously, “who is ‘he’ exactly, and where did you get this recipe?”
Stewart must have noticed Lisa’s new tone and the change in the room’s atmosphere as Mandy and Morag stared at him, anxious to here the answer as well. The second-year’s posture became notably more slumped and his voice was barely a whisper as he attempted to confess a name.
“Who was it, Stewart?” Morag pressed, much more stern and forceful than Lisa had been.
Finally, the boy offered up his source, although there was not a soul in the room that didn’t wish he hadn’t. “Professor Snape.”
Poor Stewart probably learned seven new words from the collective swearing spells of the three older girls. It was even enough to bring little Orla up running from the common room as well.
“What happened?” she gasped as soon as she reached the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?”
Morag answered the younger girl with her usual eloquence. “Doxy dust-for-brains just let Professor Snape in on out expulsion-worthy little secret!”
That’s not necessarily true,” Mandy tried to defend Stewart. “All Professor Snape really knows is that Stewart needs the potion for something. He doesn’t necessarily know what that ‘something’ is.”
“Of course not,” Morag responded sarcastically. “But naturally, you can understand my concern that he might notice that the photographs of The Fourth Estate went from still to moving just after Stewart asked for the recipe to such an odd potion.”
“We don’t even know if he has seen The Fourth Estate! Copies combust when a teacher lays their hands on them. He never would have been able to get a good enough look to tell what the pictures were doing!”
Lisa hadn’t said a word, because, as of this morning, she was hardly one to talk on the subject. Her only consolation was that Mandy and Morag had not seen it, even though they had been in the same room when it had happened.
Writing articles in class was extremely risky. They had all said it enough times, but there was not a member of the staff that didn’t do it. Not if they wanted to publish a weekly paper with only five people working on it. Besides, once the teachers launched into their lecture for the day, their eyes simply skimmed over the students scribbling with quills. It didn’t matter what they were writing. And Lisa felt oddly safe doing her writing in Potions. Padma Patil was her Potions partner, so Lisa didn’t have to worry about the other girls panicking over the fact that she was working on what was supposed to be a secret document. And Padma wasn’t going to tell on her. In fact, Lisa was certain she had seen a corner of The Fourth Estate poking out of the prefect’s book bag.
Lisa had become so engrossed in her writing that she didn’t even notice the Potions professor creep up beside her in that sneaky way of his. She didn’t notice anything was amiss until her parchment was yanked rudely out from underneath her quill.
“What is this?” he stated loudly enough so that the entire class had heard him.
Ordinarily, Professor Snape would have proceeded to out loud the note he had confiscated, because ‘ it was just so important, it couldn’t wait until after class.’ Lisa, however, was saved by what could only be called an act of God. Zacharias Smith’s sleeve caught fire from an ignored cauldron burner, and when he had seen it, he panicked, falling backward into Hannah Abbott’s and Susan Bones’ table, which had caused both girls to launch into a screaming fit, as though they had caught fire themselves. It took less than five seconds for the classroom to erupt into chaos, and in the midst of it all, Lisa’s article disappeared into the folds of Professor Snape’s robes as he struggled to get his students under control, sparing Lisa from a horrible fate.
But just because she had been spared from that sort of exposure did not mean she was off the hook entirely. After the initial pandemonium had been dispersed, it was still clear that no real work was going to get done, so Professor Snape dismissed the class early. Although, he had still not forgotten what had been occupying his attention just before the Hufflepuff boy burst into flame.
“Miss Turpin, please stay after class.”
The moment Lisa had heard that, she could have sworn she felt her heart jump up into her throat. She turned around slowly to see the Potions Master take a seat behind his desk and was staring menacingly up at her. Every animal instinct she had was telling Lisa to run, but her feet betrayed her, leading her to stand before judgment in front of the desk.
“Miss Turpin,” Professor Snape began in a low tone, extracting Lisa’s parchment from his robes, “what is this exactly?”
The tone demanded an answer, but Lisa remained silent. What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t very well come right out with the truth, not if she wanted to remain a Hogwarts students long enough to take her O.W.L.s; but it always took a certain amount of time to come up with a convincing lie for Professor Snape. And unfortunately, it was time that a student usually didn’t have.
“This here does not have anything to do with the subject of Potions, does it, Miss Turpin?” he remarked smoothly.
Lisa could only shake her head no. All she could think about was how long it would take for the wrath of Umbridge to come crashing down upon her head.
“Miss Turpin, Potions class is not for scribbling notes in. Your classes this year are especially important; and I believe you have said that you wish to take Potions as a N.E.W.T. student. You do remember that I only accept students who score an Outstanding?”
Lisa nodded, but could only force herself to pay half-attention. The whole time, her eyes remained on the piece of parchment in Professor Snape’s grip. Her emotional side was telling her to just grab the parchment and run, but her logical side told her that if she did, she would most likely be dead before she made it to the door.
Professor Snape folded his hand over the pavement. “Well, since you didn’t find it within your power to devote your attention to Potion in class today, you can devote attention to it on your own time. Five hundred lines: Potions class is for studying Potions; on my desk by next class. I have to tell you, Miss Turpin, I would have expected this sort of disrespect from a first-year or a Gryffindor, but certainly not from you.”
Professor Snape snarled and pushed Lisa’s article away, as though its mere existence disgusted him. “You are dismissed!”
The Potions professor’s attention then turned to a stack of sloppily-written essays and Lisa’s parchment went ignored. For a long moment, Lisa remained at a loss for what to do. Would taking back the parchment insight a whole new wave of wrath from her bitter teacher? Had he even hexed the parchment to do something horrible to her the moment she touched it, just to further teach her a lesson? It did seem like she had been let off especially easy, especially for Professor Snape.
Eventually, the professor looked up and realized that Lisa was still standing before him. “Miss Turpin. When I said ‘Dismissed’ and stopped talking, it means you can leave.”
Lisa desperately wanted to obey, but she desperately wanted her article back as well. “But, sir, what about my parchment?”
Professor Snape pushed the essays aside and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lisa knew she had set the man up to say something awful to her, and Lisa wondered to herself if a teacher could even get away with saying what she was imagining.
“Frankly, Miss Turpin, I could care less about what you choose to do that piece of parchment,” he told her, “but I also imagine that your friends would be quite upset if you showed up to your next meeting without that article.”
Lisa felt the blood drain from her face. She should have just run.
At the very least, Professor Snape seemed to be thoroughly amused by the whole scenario. “I gather from your reaction that I wasn’t supposed to know what this was written for? A certain Fourth Estate?”
Lisa tried to speak, defend herself, do anything, but her voice kept getting caught in her throat, and all she could manage were a few stammering, “U-um…Umbah…”
“Don’t worry, Professor Umbridge does not know who is responsible for the paper,” he assured her. “In fact, I think I am the only member of the staff who has had the pleasure of sharing company with one of the Mister Vowels.”
Finally, Lisa regained her ability to form tangible sentences. “The staff?”
Professor Snape smiled; the first time Lisa had seen him do so in the five years that he had been her teacher. “Yes. I must say, you have quite a following among the school’s staff. I can assure you, though, we are quite careful that Dolores Umbridge does not see us.”
Lisa was still confused by the entire scenario. “Teachers…aren’t supposed to be able to read it.”
“Your little Combustion Charm?” he asked. “Cute, and good for a few stinging fingertips, but I would think you would know that a Hogwarts professor is more than capable of lifting such a childish hex.”
Lisa spoke up before she even took an opportunity to consider her words. “Professor Umbridge hasn’t.”
That was a mistake.
“Miss Turpin!” Professor Snape shouted, slamming his quill against the desktop with his palm. “You consider Professor Umbridge even a half-competent witch? Do you need five hundred lines to correct that notion as well?”
Lisa shook her head slowly, but it was an answer that seemed to satisfy Professor Snape, who moved to pick up his quill. Still, there was one thing that remained on her mind.
“Are you going to tell?” she managed to whisper.
The Potions professor’s face took on a slightly more thoughtful expression. “Because my Slytherins have all joined up on Professor Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad?”
“I suppose…” Lisa confessed. “Also, Umbridge was very clear about student organizations being run without her permission. Aren’t you sort of obligated to tell her now that you know who is responsible?”
Professor Snape set his quill down for good, giving up on correcting papers while Lisa was still in his classroom. “Miss Turpin, Slytherins and Ravenclaws have a great deal in common. You are both clever, resourceful, and you both know how to put what resources you have to your best use.”
Lisa nodded, unsure of whether to take the words as a compliment or not.
“But Slytherins will take any chance that comes their way if it offers them an opportunity of advancement, no matter how idiotic it might be.” The professor’s tone shifted slightly. “Ravenclaws seem to have more dignity than that. It’s your House’s one redeeming quality, in my opinion.”
“So…” Lisa asked, her voice trailing, “is that a yes or a no?”
The professor snorted at the Ravenclaw’s inability to piece together his cryptic words. “No, Miss Turpin. I’m not going to ‘tell’. I personally believe that the Ministry currently has more important things to worry about than what one fifth-year chooses to scribble in her parchment margins. And that Professor Umbridge is simply drunk with power, and it will run itself out eventually.”
Professor Snape then offered a piece of advice to the girl. “Just make sure you don’t get caught before then.”
Lisa smiled a relieved sort of smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And so you know, Miss Turpin,” Professor Snape confided in her, “the crossword puzzle was highly amusing, although I’m not sure I wish to know how you found out Gregory Goyle still wets the bed.”
“As a journalist, I can’t ethically reveal my sources,” she told him smugly.
“Yes, yes, Miss Turpin,” the professor said, picking up his quill to resume his correcting.
Lisa had left the Potions classroom feeling so very relieved, a feeling that ended at this moment in the dormitory. She had a feeling that Professor Snape had given Stewart the potion in the first place in order to help them. If it had been any other student, he would have just snapped at them and told them to look it up themselves. She couldn’t figure out why the bitter man had chosen to help them, but all the same, she was not going to turn away help that was offered to her.
The staff of The Fourth Estate always saved five copies of each edition to keep for themselves, all secretly hoping the paper wouldn’t stay in circulation for too long, lest their homes be filled with towers of newspapers when they were old. This week, however, Lisa made sure to save one extra copy of the paper, which she tucking in between the pages of her Potions textbook. And once her roommates were all asleep, she set to work making a special crossword-only edition of The Fourth Estate.
“Stewart,” Lisa stomped her foot beside her bed, “how are the pictures coming?”
Mandy had lost the game of odds-evens, and so underneath her bed became the dark room for The Fourth Estate. Mandy would always be the last to bed, because Stewart would stay up so late into the night working on his photographs, and any sudden unconscious movement could splash dangerous chemicals into his eyes and leave him blind. And how would they go about explaining that to Professor Flitwick?
Not to mention the smell was awful.
The four other girls did their cutting, pasting, and typing a good distance away, so as to prevent any unwanted disasters. Off to the side, stacks of this week’s edition of The Fourth Estate stood balanced against the wall, waiting to be passed out, dozens of copies already stuck underneath the girls’ clothes.
The Fourth Estate had been printing for three weeks now, and the five staff members had their system down to the point where they could easily print one issue a week, sometimes even two. They had been able to work the print process into a finely tuned science.
“C’mon people!” Mandy clapped her hands excitedly. “This will be our last issue before the Easter holidays, so let’s really make it sing!”
It was true. Tonight, they would be passing out their currently finished copy of The Fourth Estate, as it was their last chance to do so before they would be sent home for the holidays. This one would be especially important, since there was even the smallest chance of the issues being brought home to be seen by someone other than the students who had been reading them for weeks. This might well be one of their only chances to get the outside world to see what was really going on inside Hogwarts.
“Are we going to have to write stories over the holidays as well?” Orla asked.
“No,” Lisa answered. “This is supposed to be a school paper, and we can’t very well print news about the school if we aren’t even there.”
It was an obvious answer, and Orla nodded quietly as Lisa scooted over to the side of Mandy’s bed.
“Stewart.” Lisa knocked against the floor so no light could slip in under the covers. “We’re all leaving to go pass out this week’s edition. If you want to come with, you better hurry.”
“You can go ahead of me,” he told her. “Just make sure it’s completely dark in here before you leave. If any light gets under here while I’m trying to get out, all the pictures will be ruined!”
Lisa nodded, though she was sure why she did it. It wasn’t as though Stewart could see her. She did, however, make sure ever possible source of light was completely dimmed before she and the other girls made their way down the stairs. In their stocking feet, the girls all did their best to make their footsteps as quiet as possible. All the other girls’ dormitories were connected to the same staircase, and they couldn’t very well risk being heard, or drawing attention to the consistent night activity on the staircase.
“Freeze!”
Mandy threw her arm out, stopping any members of the staff from going any further down the staircase.
“What the”” Morag began before Mandy began shushing her and waving her arms violently.
The collective eyes peered down in an attempt to see what it was that Mandy saw. Down in the common room, Filch was tacking some sort of parchment up to the bulletin board. Filch was a vile, disgusting man, and all the other students hated him. Unlike everyone else, he was thriving under the tyranny of Umbridge. He had never enjoyed such power in his life, and it made him drunk. In fact, he seemed to skip and sing as he strolled away from the Ravenclaw bulletin board.
Any other time, Lisa might have wondered how Filch had even managed to get into their common room; he certainly never struck Lisa as being clever enough to solve one of their entrance riddles. But now, she was far too curious to know why he had been there in the first place. The man was well known as Umbridge’s second toad in command, and whatever it was that he had put up surely had something to do with some new law for the school.
Lisa somehow ended up being the one to take the lead, approaching the bulletin board and her slight nearsightedness finally giving way to words.
“What does it say?” Orla asked, jumping up and down as though she believed she might be able to catch a glimpse over the older girls’ shoulders.
Lisa finally did offer an answer, her tone grim. “Professor Umbridge is the new headmistress!”
“What?” Morag pushed her aside to read the parchment for herself. “When did this happen?”
“Five seconds ago, apparently,” Lisa replied.
Lisa herself was still having difficulty believing what her own eyes were telling her. She couldn’t understand how Umbridge ever could have been allowed into such a great position of authority. After the student body had nearly lost Dumbledore in Lisa’s second year, what could have possibly happened that they would be without the man once again?
“You just know she’s going to start slicing off people’s fingers in detention now, don’t you?” Morag remarked cynically.
As long as Professor Dumbledore was still the headmaster, they at least had a miniscule chance of not being expelled if they were ever caught. Thanks to Professor Snape, Lisa knew that the teachers didn’t agree that criticizing the Ministry in a student newspaper was an expulsion-worthy offence, and Professor Dumbledore might have kept them from being punished too severely.
Now that he was gone, however…
“Alright, enough gawking at the board!” Mandy reached out to grab at Lisa and Morag’s hand, trying to drag them away. “We have to put out this week’s edition.”
“But…” Lisa began, “what about…”
“You want to get rid of these papers?” Stewart gaped at her.
“No way!” Orla exclaimed. “We have the photos of the Quickslitter injuries published, and I still feel guilty about stealing them from Madam Pomfrey!”
“And I did not go through all those medical tests to have them thrown in the trash!” Stewart offered his input.
Lisa stared out at the members of the staff, seeing how they were all so willing to give everything for what they had worked for. How could she possibly hold herself to a lesser standard?
“Let’s go,” she breathed softly.
The Fourth Estate by OliveOil_Med
Chapter Notes: Hogwarts professors become much more involved in the publishing of The Fourth Estate, in more ways than one.
Thank you, once again, to Fresca!