Every student in the Great Hall heard that ridiculous squawk. After a moment of stunned silence, a wave of irrepressible laughter broke out and spread like a tide.
Behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles, an imperceptible glimmer flashed.
He took a deep look at Lia, who was looking down and continuing to eat her steak with a straight face. The corners of his mouth seemed to quirk up slightly before he finished his speech with a louder, more powerful voice.
"...We must stand united! The bonds between us are far more important than our differences!"
This time, no cough interrupted him.
Umbridge sat there in shock and fury, the burning pain in her throat making it impossible for her to say a single word.
Her malicious gaze swept across the student tables like a venomous snake, trying to find the culprit who dared to challenge her authority... During the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Umbridge had decorated the classroom with her personal vulgar taste.
On the walls hung a series of decorative plates featuring various silly cats; the cats were painted with bows and posed in stiff, ridiculous positions.
Lia looked at those pictures, her azure eyes cold.
That wasn't love; it was objectification and control, turning life into soulless decorations.
"See, she's all bluster and no substance, fearing the truly powerful. Everything about her is shallow and laughable compared to the power of real Dark Arts."
Tom's voice appeared clearly in her mind, carrying a tempting inducement. "People like this only deserve to be your stepping stones."
Lia's tail flicked restlessly; only by leaning closely against the warmth from Hermione's arm could she suppress the irritability in her heart.
Umbridge told everyone to put away their magic wands and open that stupid textbook—Defense Against the Dark Arts: Basic Theory.
"In my classroom, you will have no need to use magic."
Hermione's hand shot up immediately.
"Professor, the book says that the core of Defense Against the Dark Arts theory lies in practice..."
"Be quiet, Miss Granger." Umbridge's smile didn't change, but her eyes turned cold. "Five points from Gryffindor for such a pointless interruption."
Hermione sat down unwillingly.
Lia's gaze toward Umbridge became increasingly unfriendly, and a barely audible, threatening growl emanated from her throat.
"So we're not going to learn how to use spells?" Harry's voice suddenly rang out, carrying suppressed anger.
"Please raise your hand to speak, Mr. Potter."
"Then how are we supposed to defend ourselves against the dangers outside? What if... Lord Voldemort..."
"Ten points!" Umbridge's voice became shrill and piercing. "Another ten points from Gryffindor for blatantly spreading lies in my classroom!"
"I'm not lying! I saw him come back with my own eyes!" Harry stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound.
"Enough!" Umbridge shrieked. "Mr. Potter, come to my office after class for detention!"
Lia had been sitting quietly next to Hermione.
Since seeing Lord Voldemort at the station, that fragment of Tom had become even more active.
It observed through her eyes from time to time.
The moment Harry confronted Umbridge, her [Eye of Truth] had already pierced through the disguise and locked onto the strangely shaped black quill on Umbridge's desk.
The pen emitted a thick, pungent aura of Dark Arts, mixed with the smell of dried blood and agonizing wails.
Wisps of invisible black threads extended from the tip of the pen like a snake's tongue, licking the air excitedly.
A torture device. A tool for writing with flesh and blood.
The sharp tip reminded her of the knife that had once sliced open her own flesh.
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