Umbridge had indeed come to let out a bad fart. Her class was not only boring, but reeked of bureaucracy.
"You will be pleased to know that these problems will be corrected this year. What we will be studying is a carefully structured, theory-centred Magical Defence course approved by the Ministry of Magic. Copy this down."
She tapped the blackboard again.
The two lines from before vanished, replaced by "Course Objectives."
1. Understand the fundamental principles of Magical Defence.
2. Learn to identify circumstances in which Magical Defence may legally be used.
3. Assess Magical Defence within the context of practical application.
When had Defense Against the Dark Arts become Magical Defence?
That was what the students thought, but they all obligingly picked up their quills and scratched the three course objectives onto their parchment.
Once everyone had copied them down, Umbridge asked, "Does every student have a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard's Magical Defence Theory?"
A murmur of affirmation rose through the classroom.
"I think we need to do that again." Umbridge's tone returned to the sugary, child-coaxing voice she had used at the beginning.
"When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or, 'No, Professor Umbridge.'
"Let us try again. Does every student have a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard's Magical Defence Theory?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge."
"Very good." Umbridge nodded in satisfaction. "I would like you to turn to page five and read the introductory principles in Chapter One. Do not talk while you are reading."
She left the blackboard, waddled to the chair behind the desk, and sat down, staring at the students below with her large, toad-like eyes beneath drooping lids.
The contents of Magical Defence Theory matched its title: it was filled with exceedingly dry and tedious theory.
It was about