The office was so quiet that only the soft clinking of cat plates against the wall remained.
Umbridge suddenly understood.
They had learned to say the same thing.
Professors, students, Ministry employees.
They no longer said she was mad.
No longer said she was cruel.
No longer said she was unfit.
They said:
They supported reform.
They opposed Madam Umbridge's methods of implementation.
This was harsher than insults.
Because insults could be dismissed as emotional.
But that statement was clean.
So clean that she could not simply tear it up.
She slowly stacked the three documents together.
The pink quill sprang up of its own accord.
"Dear children."
It wrote those words.
Umbridge stared at the line.
Then suddenly crossed it out hard.
"No."
She spoke quietly.
"We can't let them keep writing whatever they please."
The quill dipped into the ink again.
She took out a fresh sheet of parchment.
She wrote the title in large, rounded letters.
"Regulations on feedback and external communications for Hogwarts staff and students."
She wrote quickly.
Written feedback submitted by students to the Ministry of Magic must be registered with the Deputy Head's Office.
Teaching-related materials submitted externally by professors must include a review statement.
Anonymous complaints will not be included in formal feedback.
Internal school data must not be provided to newspapers without permission.
Content concerning Hogwarts' image must follow a unified line.
With every rule she set down, her breathing grew a little steadier.
She thought she was sealing the cracks.
She did not notice.
She was tracing the cracks in the wall more clearly in red ink.
The next morning.
The new notice went up on the noticeboard.
The pink parchment trembled gently in the cold corridor draft.
The students gathered around.
At first, no one spoke.
Ron squeezed to