Chapter Twenty-One: An Unforeseen Victory
Umbridge's scream was a raw, magic-amplified shriek that rattled the windows in their frames. Her face was a mottled puce, her chest heaving. She looked less like a professor and more like a monstrous pink puff toad about to explode.
"ENOUGH! You! You again!" she screeched, pointing a trembling finger at Elian. "It seems a week of detentions taught you nothing! Report to my office every evening at five, starting tomorrow! And for your public insubordination—"
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, Dolores."
Professor McGonagall's voice, crisp and cool as a winter morning, cut through Umbridge's fury. She stepped forward, a note of parchment in her hand. "Mr. Thorne has just submitted his application for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which I have approved. Team practices, as mandated by Hogwarts athletic bylaws, take precedence over supplemental academic sessions. His evenings will be quite occupied."
Umbridge's mouth opened and closed, emitting a series of choked, furious gasps. She was being publicly, legally outmaneuvered. "Quidditch! This is—He was—"
"A sport, as you know, that Minister Fudge himself is quite fond of," McGonagall continued smoothly, her eyes glinting behind her spectacles. "Promoting house spirit and physical prowess. Very important."
The trap was sprung. Umbridge could not, without looking petty and anti-Fudge, override a sanctioned school sport. She had been checkmated in front of the entire student body. Her humiliation was complete. The students watched, rapt, as the pink-clad professor visibly deflated, her rage turning inwards into a poisonous, quivering resentment.
Her eyes, burning with pure hate, locked onto Elian one last time. "Hem, hem. It seems Hogwarts' disciplinary framework is in even greater need of revision than I thought. You will regret this, Minerva."
With that impotent threat, she turned on her heel and waddled away at speed, her fluffy cardigan a retreating blot of furious pink.
The moment she vanished around a corner, the Entrance Hall erupted.
"WOOO!"
"THORNE!"
"Did you see her face?!"
A spontaneous chant of "Elian! Elian! Elian!" broke out. He stood in the centre of it, barefoot and slightly stunned, as students clapped him on the back. Hermione was beaming, shaking her head in awe. Ron was hopping up and down with glee, yelling at Harry, "He did it! He actually did it!"
Harry was smiling too, a real, relieved smile. "He got her. Properly."
Professor McGonagall let the celebration go on for a precisely measured ten seconds before clapping her hands sharply. "That is quite sufficient! Have you all no essays to write? I believe my sixth-years have a twelve-inch parchment on Human Transfiguration due tomorrow!"
The crowd dispersed, buzzing with excitement, casting grateful and admiring looks at Elian as they passed. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were pulled away in the current, Ron already demanding to know how he could get on the team.
Finally, only Elian and Professor McGonagall remained in the suddenly quiet hall.
"Well, Mr. Thorne," she said, her stern gaze sweeping over him, coming to rest on his sock-clad feet. "It appears you have a surplus of free time if you can afford to commune so deeply with the castle floors. Perhaps I have been too light with your Transfiguration coursework."
Elian met her eyes, not with fear, but with a newfound understanding. He hadn't planned to speak up. But as the two professors argued, a new mission had bloomed in his mind:
[A mage's strength is not just in power, but in principle. To stand with what is right, even quietly, builds a different kind of magic.]
[Bonus Mission: Aid Minerva McGonagall. Earn her genuine regard.]
[Reward upon Success: The Sling Ring.]
The Sling Ring. The tool for creating portals, for stepping across the world in an instant. The reward had been too great, the principle too correct, to ignore. He'd spoken without thinking of the consequence, trusting the system—and his own sense of justice.
Now, he waited for her reprimand.
Professor McGonagall studied him for a long moment. The stern lines around her mouth softened, almost imperceptibly. "Of course, you should go and put on some shoes, Mr. Thorne. I would… advise… a more circumspect approach with Professor Umbridge in the future. She is, unfortunately, a professor here."
She paused, and then added, her voice dropping to a dry, almost conspiratorial tone, "However… for demonstrating considerable nerve and a commendable, if reckless, loyalty to the spirit of this school… Gryffindor is awarded 20 points."
Elian's eyes widened. Not a punishment. Points. The final three points he needed. A warm, resonant chime echoed in his mind. [Bonus Mission: Earn 20 House Points – COMPLETE. Reward: Astral Projection – Claimed.] And simultaneously, [Bonus Mission: Aid Minerva McGonagall – COMPLETE. Reward: The Sling Ring – Claimed.]
(End of Chapter)
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