"The Daily Prophet?" Harry said, his voice resounding with instant wariness.
A sense of foreboding flickered sharply through Harry's mind like a warning signal as his gaze fell upon the newspaper clipping's bold headline printed in large, aggressive font.
"Ministry of Magic Issues New Educational Decree, Dolores Umbridge Appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor"
The words seemed to leap off the page with ominous significance.
"High Inquisitor?" Harry looked up at Adrian with confusion and concern, his eyebrows furrowed deeply. "What exactly is that? I've never heard that title before. Is it new?"
"It's an old Ministry position that used to be merely a ceremonial title without real authority," Adrian explained with a casual shrug, "A historical relic, basically. But it seems the Ministry has decided to grant it actual, substantial power now. Clearly, Umbridge intends to interfere in Hogwarts' internal affairs on the Ministry's behalf."
Harry frowned, his expression becoming troubled. His voice showed a trace of unease and worry. "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts Study Group... it won't be negatively affected by this, will it? We're just students learning from each other outside of regular class hours. That shouldn't be prohibited."
"Perhaps it will be affected, perhaps not," Adrian said, his tone remaining vague and nonchalant. "These things are unpredictable with someone like Umbridge. But you'd better prepare yourself mentally for the worst possible outcome."
This ambiguous answer only substantially increased Harry's anxiety rather than providing any comfort, making his stomach twist with worry. But for now, all he could realistically do was wait and see how events unfolded.
There was no point in panicking prematurely.
Just then, interrupting their serious conversation, a small figure entered their field of vision from across the courtyard.
It was John Selwyn, the quiet first-year Slytherin who was also an member of their study group despite his house connection.
Harry immediately waved at the approaching figure with friendliness. "John! Over here!"
John Selwyn looked up at the sound of his name being called, his dark eyes focusing on them. He walked over slowly looking around.
"Good afternoon, Potter," He greeted casually with indifference in his tone. No actual warmth, but no hostility either. "Professor."
Harry had learned through several meetings that John's personality had always been like this—reserved, formal, somewhat distant. So he didn't take any offense or read anything negative into the cool greeting.
"Good afternoon, John," Harry responded warmly. "What are you doing wandering around out here? Most people are inside studying or at Quidditch practice."
He noticed the thick book clutched in John's hand and his interest increased.
"Oh, are you studying some particular magic on your own?" Harry asked with interest and approval. "That's excellent initiative. If you have any questions about anything, maybe I can help explain or demonstrate."
John nodded once and displayed the title of the book in his hand, turning the cover toward them.
A Beginner's Guide to the Patronus Charm
"That might be a bit too difficult for your current level," Adrian interjected gently but honestly. "The Patronus Charm really isn't suitable for you to attempt learning right now, John. It's advanced magic."
Although Harry had stated enthusiastically at their very first meeting that everyone in the group should eventually learn the Patronus Charm regardless of year or skill level, no matter what their starting point, realistically it was still far too complicated and demanding for first-year students who'd barely learned basic spellwork.
The magical theory alone was university-level.
No matter how naturally talented or dedicated John Selwyn might be, simply couldn't possibly master such an extraordinarily advanced spell when he had only just started learning magic a few months ago.
During their previous practice sessions, both John and another second-year student hadn't even managed to successfully summon the barest trace of silvery protective mist, despite multiple attempts and Harry's patient coaching.
Harry shared exactly the same opinion as Adrian about this.
"John, we practice that spell together at our meetings, and you're welcome to keep trying," Harry said encouragingly but realistically. "But perhaps you should focus your independent study time on considerably easier, more foundational magic first. Build your skills progressively."
He thought for a moment about good suggestions.
"Like the Disarming Charm—Expelliarmus. It's both genuinely practical in real situations and relatively easy to master with practice. That would be perfect for your level."
Though in reality, even the Disarming Charm wasn't particularly easy for complete beginners either. But it was certainly more achievable than a Patronus.
"Alright, Potter," John nodded with calm acceptance, taking the advice without argument or visible disappointment. "I'll focus on that."
Then, as if suddenly remembering something interesting he'd witnessed, he added, "By the way, I just saw something unusual outside the castle gates. A tree that could apparently run and move on its own. It was walking around like it had legs."
Harry was genuinely taken aback by this odd report. "A running tree? Are you sure?"
"Probably Flick causing mischief again," Adrian said with helplessness and resignation in his voice. "That little troublemaker has been wandering around the castle grounds lately, exploring everything, and even I can't catch it when it decides to hide or run."
"What's Flick exactly?" John asked with curiosity, his typically reserved expression was showing genuine interest for the first time in the conversation. "Some kind of magical creature?"
"A Treant friend," Harry explained with a smile. "It's a sentient plant creature from the Forbidden Forest. Don't worry about it—Flick is very friendly and harmless. It just naturally likes to wander around exploring and occasionally playing pranks."
John nodded thoughtfully, processing this information about walking trees. "So, it definitely won't hurt anyone? It's safe?"
"Absolutely not, I promise," Harry said with complete certainty and conviction. "Flick wouldn't harm a fly. In fact, quite the opposite—if you ever run into serious trouble or danger, you can try calling its name loudly. If Flick is nearby and in a good mood, it might even actively help you."
"Okay, thanks for the information," John said briefly. Then without further conversation, he turned and left the courtyard with the same leisurely pace, heading back toward the castle.
Harry watched his retreating figure with thoughtful appreciation until John disappeared around a corner.
"John is genuinely really impressive for his age," Harry said to Adrian with noticeable admiration in his voice. "He can already cast quite a few spells competently—the Levitation Charm, the Lumos light spell, even some simple Transfiguration work that most first-years wouldn't attempt."
He listed them off, clearly impressed.
"And he's only been learning magic for few months as a first-year. That's remarkable progress."
Adrian raised an interested eyebrow and asked casually, "How does he compare to you at that age? To your first-year self?"
"About the same level, roughly speaking," Harry answered without any hesitation or false modesty, his tone was realistic. Then he added more thoughtfully, "Actually, in some specific ways, John might even be objectively stronger than I was at that exact age and stage."
He paused, remembering.
"At least when I was in first year, I would absolutely never have been independently reading something as advanced as A Beginner's Guide to the Patronus Charm on my own initiative. That wouldn't have occurred to me as even possible. Oh, Hermione might have been reading it, knowing her..."
Adrian nodded slightly, acknowledging that this was indeed very high praise coming from Harry.
Harry's own magical talent was genuinely unquestionable and exceptional—everyone acknowledged that. For John Selwyn to receive such a positive assessment and direct comparison from Harry himself meant this seemingly ordinary, quiet first-year was truly exceptional and worth watching.
Perhaps John could develop into the second Harry Potter? Another genius?
Even their general appearance and physical build were somewhat similar.
Harry wasn't entirely clear or informed about what specific impact the Ministry's new Educational Decree would ultimately have on Hogwarts' daily operations and policies, but it was immediately obvious to everyone that Umbridge had been walking around the castle considerably more arrogantly lately.
Her chin was higher, her smile was smugger, her voice was louder and more confident.
She clearly felt empowered.
Harry had heard through the school gossip network which was remarkably efficient and accurate—that Umbridge had even forcibly interrupted Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class and taken George and Fred away right in front of everyone.
The audacity was shocking.
The said reason was that the twins had been caught red-handed selling Dungbombs on school grounds to younger students, which technically violated school regulations about unapproved commerce.
While Harry privately thought the twins had somewhat brought the consequences upon themselves through their constant rule-breaking and profit-seeking nature, interrupting Professor McGonagall's class so publicly and dismissively was still rather inexcusably rude.
Professor McGonagall had been absolutely furious, according to witnesses. Her face had apparently gone white with rage.
Gryffindor Common Room
That evening in the warm, familiar Gryffindor common room, with the fire crackling in the hearth and students scattered around doing homework or playing games, the Weasley twins held court before an audience.
They energetically told everyone gathered around about Umbridge's creative punishment method, acting out the scene with exaggerated gestures.
"'We will comply with all of Professor Umbridge's regulations,'" George mimicked Umbridge's sickeningly sweet, high-pitched tone with devastating accuracy, making an exaggerated gagging expression and clutching his throat dramatically.
"She made us write that exact line over and over and over... hundreds of times until our hands cramped. Merlin, it was disgusting and mind-numbing enough to drive you mad."
Fred was also noticeably indignant; his face was flushed with anger. "Why should she be the one punishing us anyway? By all rights and proper procedure, it should be Professor McGonagall handling discipline—she's the Deputy Headmistress and our Head of House!"
"Umbridge is the High Inquisitor now, officially," Hermione pointed out somewhat helplessly from her armchair, looking up from her homework. "I really think you two should have actually read the Daily Prophet article explaining her new powers. Strictly speaking legally, she does have that authority now, whether we like it or not."
"Bollocks to the High Inquisitor!" Ron muttered under his breath, for once taking his troublemaking brothers' side completely. "Made-up Ministry rubbish."
In an instant, as if a dam had broken, everyone present in the common room began openly complaining about Umbridge.
"Her class is an absolute complete waste of time!" Dean Thomas couldn't help but burst out, his voice was carrying frustration that had clearly been building. "An entire hour-long lesson spent just reading passages from that incredibly boring, useless textbook, and she won't even let us touch our wands! What's the point? How are we supposed to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts without practicing?"
Seamus immediately chimed in with his own complaint, "And she always wears that horrible, eye-searing pink! Every single day! Sometimes multiple shades of pink at once! It genuinely hurts my eyes to look at her. I have even started to feel the color disgusting now."
"She looks exactly like a pink toad," Ginny muttered softly but audibly enough to be heard, causing several nearby students to snicker and giggle with delight at the accurate comparison.
Even Flick, who had somehow made its way into the common room and was currently near the fireplace, waved its small branches enthusiastically and made loud rustling sounds as if echoing and agreeing with everyone's passionate complaints.
"Hey!" Ron suddenly noticed something unusual and pointed at the small Treant beside him with surprise. "Wait—how did Flick even get in here? Didn't the Fat Lady portrait stop it or raise an alarm? She's usually strict about unauthorized entries."
Neville timidly, hesitantly raised his hand like he was in class, his face was turning red. "Um, it climbed in through the window, actually... I... I saw it climbing up the castle's outer stone wall using its roots and branches like a spider, so I opened the window and let it in. It seemed friendly. I hope that was okay?"
Flick seemed to somehow understand Neville's explanation and reference to itself. It proudly shook its leafy branches with vigor, causing several colorful leaves to drift down gently like natural confetti.
"Well... that's quite genuinely impressive climbing ability," Ron said with growing amusement. He reached forward with one hand to playfully, mischievously touch Flick's wooden branches.
Flick immediately responded to this courage.
Its branches shot out with surprising speed and carefully wrapped around Ron's torso. Then it lifted him straight up into the air with ease, hoisting him several feet off the ground until his legs dangled helplessly.
"Hey! Put me down right now!" Ron shouted with alarm, thrashing his arms and legs uselessly. "This isn't funny! Flick!"
Everyone in the common room burst into delighted laughter at the sight of Ron suspended in mid-air, his face red and indignant while Flick held him there like a trophy.
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