The frustration from Potions lingered all the way until lunchtime.
The trio trudged into the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table.
Ron continued complaining about the dreadful Monday as he piled food onto his plate.
"History of Magic puts me to sleep, and Potions is torture... Merlin, just thinking about sitting through another two hours of Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts this afternoon makes me feel hopeless."
He groaned and took a large bite out of a chicken leg.
Just then, Fred and George appeared like two cheerful Bludgers, one on either side of him.
"Look, George, our poor brother seems to need a little help," Fred said with a grin.
"Indeed, Fred. Just look at him, completely ravaged by the timetable."
George joined in, then leaned towards Ron mysteriously.
"Hey, Ronny, fancy some Nosebleed Nougat? Just one little piece and I guarantee your nose will start gushing blood, enough to get you legitimately excused from any class you don't like. Such as, oh, I don't know... something this afternoon?"
He winked at Ron, completely ignoring Hermione's steadily darkening expression beside him.
Ron's eyes immediately lit up, but then narrowed with caution.
"How much?"
"Rock-bottom price. Only two Sickles!"
Fred enthusiastically pitched the product.
"Absolutely the best bargain at Hogwarts this year!"
"Why's it so cheap?" Ron asked suspiciously, knowing his brothers far too well.
George shrugged casually.
"Because the matching antidote is still under development, so the nosebleed doesn't actually stop. But don't worry!"
He quickly added, "We'll throw in a free Blood-Replenishing Potion so you won't suffer any serious problems from excessive blood loss... probably."
Ron imagined himself bleeding endlessly while surviving only because of a Blood-Replenishing Potion and swallowed hard.
His enthusiasm immediately turned into horror.
"No... no thanks," he said glumly. "I think I'd rather go to class."
"Your loss," the twins said in unison.
They shook their heads in exaggerated regret before skipping away to search for other potential customers.
After lunch, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had no choice but to face reality, gather their things, and head towards Professor Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
Just the thought of spending the next two hours under that pretentious woman made their footsteps feel heavier.
When they pushed open the classroom door, the first thing they saw was Professor Umbridge's broad face, plastered with a false smile.
She was still wearing that uncomfortable-looking pink cardigan, with her signature red bow pinned to her chest.
When she saw the students entering, her smile widened slightly, though it carried no warmth whatsoever.
Instead, it looked like a greasy layer spread across her face.
"All right, students, quiet down and take your seats."
She spoke in a simpering voice, as though coaxing a group of small children.
Once everyone was seated, she walked lightly to the front of the classroom.
"Everyone, please put away your wands. We won't be needing them today."
She smiled.
"This term's Defence Against the Dark Arts course will focus on understanding magical theory and... hmm... firmly mastering the fundamentals. Now, please open Theories of Magical Defence to page five, and we will begin by copying the key points from the first chapter."
A reluctant, scattered rustling of pages filled the classroom.
Then a hand rose firmly into the air.
It belonged to Hermione Granger.
Umbridge's gaze passed over Hermione, but she behaved as though she had not seen her and continued in the same sickly sweet voice.
"Let us begin with the first paragraph..."
But Hermione's arm remained steadily raised like a flagpole, unwavering.
Her persistence gradually drew the attention of more and more students, and a subtle stir spread through the classroom.
At last, Umbridge could no longer pretend not to notice her.
A brief flicker of displeasure crossed her face before being immediately covered by that false smile.
"My dear, are you...?"
She pretended not to know her.
"Hermione Granger, Professor."
"Do you have a question, Miss Granger?"
"Yes."
Hermione spoke clearly.
"I do have a question. Are we really not going to use our wands? Advanced Charms Theory and Practice might have reasons for restricting spellcasting, but are we not going to practise magic in Defence Against the Dark Arts either? How are we supposed to learn how to defend ourselves?"
Umbridge beamed.
"In my class, you will learn Ministry-approved defensive theory that is both safe and sound. Once you have fully mastered that theory, it will be more than enough to deal with any situation you might encounter. Trust me, you will not need to use your wands."
Parvati Patil, sitting in the back row, could not help speaking up as well.
"But Professor, we have our O.W.L.s this year! If we never practise counter-curses or defensive spells, what are we supposed to do in the exam?"
"As long as your theoretical knowledge is solid enough," Umbridge replied with a smile and an unquestionable tone, "the examination will not be a problem."
"Are you saying," Dean Thomas asked incredulously, "that the first time we actually use defensive spells will be during the O.W.L. exam?"
"Exactly." Umbridge nodded with satisfaction, as though praising a clever student.
"What if we're attacked before then?" Hermione asked directly.
Umbridge gave a short, artificial laugh.
"That is entirely unnecessary panic. Attacked? Who would attack a group of students like yourselves?"
Those words were like a spark to dry tinder.
Harry's long-suppressed anger finally snapped.
He forced a defiant smile onto his face, his voice carrying clearly through the suddenly silent classroom.
"Let me think. Perhaps... Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Just like Barty Crouch Jr. did to us on the floating platform last term."
A collective gasp swept through the classroom.
Everyone stared at Harry in horror before furtively glancing at Umbridge.
Simply saying the name was shocking enough, let alone in a situation like this.
Umbridge's smile slowly froze, then seemed to peel away like cheap paint, revealing the cold expression beneath.
She took a deep breath, the bow on her chest rising and falling sharply.
"Mr Potter," she said in the same simpering voice, though now with a sharp edge beneath it, "Gryffindor will lose ten points for your nonsense. And I hope you will stop spreading such alarmist rumours."
"It isn't a rumour." Harry met her gaze without flinching.
Umbridge seemed to decide on a different approach.
She put on that sickly smile again and began criticising the professors who had taught the subject before her.
"I understand. And we must admit that Hogwarts's previous Defence Against the Dark Arts instruction has been deeply problematic. Look at your former professors. Apart from Professor Quirrell, who was at least somewhat competent, the others were, I'm afraid, either impostors, werewolves, or dangerous criminals. It is hardly surprising that you have turned out this way..."
"Yes," Harry immediately cut in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Professor Quirrell was quite good. It would have been even better if he hadn't had Voldemort attached to the back of his head."
The classroom once again fell deathly silent.
A quill dropping to the floor would have sounded deafening.
The air seemed to freeze.
Umbridge was still smiling, but her small eyes were fixed on Harry with open malice.
"Mr Potter," she said, enunciating each word carefully, "you will have detention tonight."
"My detention won't change the facts," Harry replied indifferently.
"The Dark Lord was never resurrected," Umbridge insisted with a smile, showing no fear whatsoever. "Those are merely stories fabricated by certain people."
"Oh, really?"
Harry refused to back down.
"Then how do you explain the members of pure-blood families who died at Little Hangleton? Those Death Eaters, were they all having a midnight costume party in masks?"
Ignoring the horrified expressions around him, he continued without hesitation.
"Professor Greengrass solved a massive problem for you, and you still issued a warrant for his arrest!"
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with the Ministry of Magic issuing a warrant for Sagres Greengrass!"
Umbridge's smile widened, her expression becoming triumphant.
"His actions seriously violated Ministry law. He should, and must, be held accountable."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Harry sneered.
"When Professor Greengrass was still at Hogwarts, when your finger was cut off, the Ministry wasn't nearly so brave."
"Shut up!"
Umbridge shrieked, her face instantly twisting with rage.
"If you continue spreading these lies, I guarantee you will be expelled from Hogwarts!"
"You don't have the authority to expel students," Hermione immediately said. "Only the Headmaster and the Board of Governors have that power."
Umbridge sharply turned towards Hermione, triumph and cruelty mingling in her smile.
"Miss Granger, it seems you misunderstand the authority I possess. Under Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, I, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Hogwarts High Inquisitor, not only have the authority to expel any student who misbehaves..."
She paused deliberately, enjoying the shock that flashed across Hermione's face.
"...I also have the authority to dismiss any professor I deem incompetent."
Her smile remained fixed.
"Now, resume copying. Potter, my office at seven tonight. Detention."
She turned her back to the class, her shoulders rigid.
Only the scratching of quills across parchment remained, accompanied by a suffocating silence.
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