"Mr. Green..." Umbridge turned slowly, the black velvet bow on her head trembling with the movement. Her toadlike eyes narrowed to slits, and her voice was as sweet as poison dipped in sugar. "This is our second meeting. I've heard... so much about you!"
"However—" She suddenly tapped the lectern with her short, stubby fingers, making a dull sound like a toad slapping a swamp. "Discipline is the foundation of civilization. Next time, raise your hand before speaking. After all... you won't get away with it every time. Here, I can give you detention whenever I like, and Dumbledore can't stop me."
"As you wish." Jerry raised his hand lazily. In the patches of light spilling through the window, his fingers seemed coated in a thin layer of gold, gleaming softly. "Then, Professor, could you clear up a small question for me?"
"Go ahead. I'm always happy to answer questions from students who follow the rules." Umbridge's false smile widened.
"You said you looked into Defence Against the Dark Arts before coming to Hogwarts. Did you happen to calculate the odds that someone appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts would survive to the end of the school year?"
"Hahaha!"
The moment Jerry finished speaking, laughter broke out across the classroom.
"Quiet, quiet!" Umbridge rapped on the desk.
"Let me work it out for you," Jerry continued. "Starting with my first year: Quirrell. Death Eater. Dead."
"Second year: Lockhart. His reputation is in ruins."
"Third year: Professor Lupin. Seriously injured!"
"The fourth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was especially impressive: Barty Crouch Jr., who'd spent some time at Azkaban."
"A Death Eater wasn't such a bad choice for the position, actually. He taught us quite a lot!"
"Honestly, the Ministry of Magic has been a disappointment these