~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!
Once she settled into her room, Umbridge temporarily refrained from bothering her future colleagues, but news about her still dominated every brief conversation and tea break.
Anthony heard she had decorated her office into some sort of kaleidoscope of pink paint, bows, lace doilies, and kitten portraits. She had even invited two or three students in for tea. The Slytherin had strutted away smugly, while Ron began complaining to Nearly Headless Nick right there in the corridor.
"She asked me if I thought the professors were favoring Harry!" Ron said, incredulous. "And if I thought Harry's fame these days was a deliberate publicity stunt by Dumbledore! She seemed to think I was jealous of Harry's reputation or something—for Merlin's sake!"
Aside from chatting with students, Umbridge also sat at the staff table during lunch and dinner, offering every person who entered the Great Hall a false, cloying smile. Anthony heard Fred and George describe her as a hungry toad, ready to flick out its tongue and snatch someone up at any moment. Percy told them to show respect to the Senior Undersecretary but didn't argue the point further.
As the holidays drew to a close, more and more students returned to Hogwarts, and thus more and more people noticed the witch with a wide mouth full of sharp, pointy little teeth, grinning at everyone.
"What exactly does she do?" professors overheard students whispering. "What does it have to do with her if someone failed Care of Magical Creatures?"
Out of curiosity, Anthony asked, "How were Ms. Umbridge's grades when she was a student?"
"I'm not sure. I'd already graduated by then," said Professor Burbage. "Minerva?"
Professor McGonagall sighed. "Excellent."
"Including Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Oh, no," McGonagall said. "I don't recall her taking that subject… As I recall, she earned seven or eight O.W.L.s, including an 'E' in Transfiguration. But I don't remember her other results." Her expression and tone suggested she didn't particularly want to remember.
"Don't tell me that witch has a Muggle Studies certificate," Professor Burbage said.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea. "You could always ask her."
"Have I annoyed you at some point, Minerva?" Professor Burbage asked.
…
On the day before term started, a mix of rain and sleet fell. The ceiling, reflecting the weather outside, was gloomy. Fat droplets clung to the tall windows, and the candles floating in the air gave off a dim, pale light. Despite all the fireplaces being stoked high, the damp, cold air still poured in through the wide-open doors, carrying with it the howl of the wind and the overlapping greetings of students coming and going.
Mr. Filch had been in a foul temper since morning, yelling and shouting. It was unclear whether it was due to the increasing number of returning students, the growing liveliness of the castle, or the muddy footprints being tracked all over the floors.
Harry returned with a trunk stuffed full of sweets, from Honeydukes' latest products to enough crisps and jerky to feed Hagrid. Filch inspected it all grudgingly, but eventually had to let Harry go, having found nothing on the list of prohibited items.
As Anthony passed by, Harry was standing by the Gryffindor table, struggling to stuff his haul back into the trunk. Sweets kept tumbling out of the gaps, creating a colorful little avalanche.
"Let me help," Ron offered eagerly, then gave the trunk a forceful squeeze. With a POP, several bags of crisps burst open, scattering everywhere—onto the table, the benches, and sticking to the chaotic muddy footprints on the floor.
Filch's face quivered with rage. "Filthy! Messy! A right shambles everywhere—"
Anthony was about to leave as usual, letting Filch complete his daily quota of complaints about cleaning the castle, when a short, squat figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Umbridge was slowly descending the stairs, holding a clipboard.
Anthony immediately raised his wand. "Scourgify."
A large patch of footprints on the floor vanished. The muddy crisps, the parchment stuck to the floor, and a few Blowing Gum blobs that had lost their original color disappeared with them. The chatting students looked down in surprise, then glanced around before their eyes landed on Anthony.
"No magic in the corridors!" Filch roared, whirling around with an air of triumph.
That triumphant look vanished when he saw Anthony.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Filch," Anthony said, tucking his wand back into his pocket with a polite nod and smile. "Just seeing if I could lend a hand."
After the past few days, he had no doubt this kind of thing could also become evidence of Dumbledore's negligence—or at least fodder for sensational tabloid headlines. "Our Children Living in a Rubbish Heap." "Apathetic Staff, Absent Headmaster." Ever since The Daily Prophet had published the news of the Ministry sending an investigator to Hogwarts (though they used the word "cooperation"), these smaller papers had swarmed in like flies scenting blood, competing to report on the "untold stories" within Britain's only magical school.
"Oh… good afternoon, Professor…" Filch said, clear suspicion on his face. Both he and Anthony knew their relationship was far from cordial.
Harry and Ron had already taken the chance to shove their things haphazardly back into the trunk and force it shut. The task was noticeably easier with a few bulky bags of crisps missing.
However, whether or not Umbridge noticed the suddenly clean floor, she definitely noticed where the students' gazes were directed.
"What seems to be the matter, Argus?" she asked kindly, bustling over.
Harry stared at her in surprise. Umbridge's eyes lingered for a split second on his forehead.
Filch began, "Potter and Weasley—"
"Ah, you must be Harry Potter," Umbridge interrupted him, her eyes fixed solely on Harry.
Her bulging eyes held a cold, calculating glint, as if she were rapidly deciding what pose to strike with him. In the end, she settled on a friendlier expression, studying him with a smile that revealed a row of tiny, sharp teeth. "How was your holiday, Mr. Potter?"
"Fine, thanks," Harry replied, still watching her warily. Ron had a hand clamped on Harry's elbow.
Umbridge said in a sickly-sweet voice, "How lovely—"
"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Potter," Anthony said, pretending he hadn't noticed Umbridge's glance. "You're free to go back to your dormitory and get some rest if you'd like."
"Okay, Professor," Harry said, heaving the trunk up with effort.
"Just a moment, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, placing her stubby-fingered hand on the trunk. It tipped, then landed back on the bench with a dull THUD. Harry's brow furrowed as he looked up at her. Curious glances were now being directed their way.
"Ms. Umbridge?" Anthony said.
"Yes, Professor Anthony?" Umbridge said, then swiftly ignored him, turning back to Harry. "Mr. Potter, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your holiday went well. Why don't you come to my office for a cup of tea and tell me all about the interesting things that happened?"
Harry shot a glance at Anthony. "Er… thanks for the invitation, Ma'am. But I'm feeling a bit tired right now…"
Anthony added, "Since Mr. Potter has said so—"
Umbridge said, "My dear—"
"Excuse me, who are you?" a voice cut in sharply.
They turned. Hermione stood not far away, also by the Gryffindor table, having just arrived. She had her arms crossed and was looking directly at Umbridge, chin raised.
"Dolores Umbridge, young lady. You may call me 'Ma'am' or 'Professor,'" Umbridge said, her smile still plastered on. "I believe the Headmaster will introduce me to you all soon enough, of course. But we can also get to know each other gradually. We'll have plenty of time."
"Ms. Umbridge, Harry doesn't want to go," Hermione stated bluntly. "Forcing someone to have tea in your office is impolite. Also, I read the papers. You're the Senior Undersecretary, not a professor."
Ron let out a soft groan.
Umbridge's smile widened. "And you are…?"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione said haughtily.
Anthony looked around. It wasn't just Hermione. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were nearby too, watching the scene with concern. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were also craning their necks in this direction.
"Very good, Miss Granger," Umbridge said, all sweetness and light. "Reading the papers is an excellent habit. Then, you must have also noticed my responsibilities." She looked pointedly at Anthony. "How can I ensure my investigation findings are accurate and truthful if I am constantly prevented from speaking with students?"
"Forgive me, Ms. Umbridge, but I don't understand what Mr. Potter's holiday has to do with the teaching standards at Hogwarts," Anthony said.
"Precisely, Professor Anthony. That is exactly why a Senior Undersecretary is necessary," Umbridge said condescendingly, then turned back to Harry. "Mr. Potter, did you find the holiday assignments overly burdensome? Did you spend your entire holiday completing essays?"
"What? No, I didn't," Harry said. "The professors didn't give much homework at all."
Umbridge nodded and scribbled busily on her clipboard. Anthony could see her writing: Student reports lack of post-lesson practice…
"Student reports lack of post-lesson practice, professors generally lack sense of responsibility for their subjects…" someone read out loud.
Lee Jordan stood behind Umbridge, leaning over her head to peer at the clipboard.
"Oops, sorry," Lee Jordan said when everyone looked at him. "Force of habit. I'm used to commentating."
Harry said, "No, it's not like that! I wrote three essays and I practiced Transfiguration!"
"Oh? You practiced Transfiguration?" Umbridge asked with keen interest, scribbling away again.
Lee Jordan read out in an even louder voice, "Student engaged in severely illegal magical activities…"
"I did NOT!" Harry said, furious.
Umbridge turned to Lee Jordan. "What is your name?"
"Let me think…" Lee Jordan said, rolling his eyes. "Hmm… Richard, maybe? Or Leonardo… My memory's really not that great…"
"Very well," Umbridge said. "Ten points from Gryffindor."
The snickering students abruptly fell silent. They exchanged uneasy glances.
Umbridge, satisfied, turned back to Harry with a kindly expression. "Oh, but you did, Mr. Potter. According to Clause Three of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, underage wizards are not permitted to perform magic outside of school."
Harry froze, looking utterly dismayed.
"But that's not severely illegal!" Hermione interjected. "The Classification Standards for Illegal Activities categorizes it as a moderate violation!" She added impatiently to a glaring Ron in a hushed voice, "Don't be thick, I saw it while helping Hagrid look up some files."
Umbridge said, "International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, Article Five: The use of magic in areas populated by Muggles constitutes an activity with a high risk of attracting Muggle attention; International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, Article Thirteen: Such behavior is classified as a severe violation."
"But… but I wasn't in a Muggle area!" Harry argued. "I was at Sirius's house!"
"Sirius?" Umbridge asked. "Sirius Black?" She began scribbling furiously on her clipboard.
Fred read softly: "Lacks corresponding education in legal knowledge…"
"How unfortunate. Ten points from Gryffindor," Umbridge said, grinning widely, clearly relishing the students' glares.
"Unable to guarantee students return safely to their guardians' residences after leaving school…" George droned, his voice a mosquito-like buzz.
Harry lost all patience. "Sirius is my guardian! He's my godfather! If it weren't for him just getting back, I wouldn't be living with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon at all!"
Umbridge tilted her head. "It sounds as though you don't care much for your Muggle relatives, Mr. Potter?"
Harry said hotly, "I'd like to see you try liking them."
Umbridge's face suddenly broke into a wide, beaming smile. She set down her clipboard and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry was so taken aback he forgot his anger, frowning as he visibly restrained himself from shaking the hand off.
"My dear, I can understand," Umbridge cooed, sickly-sweet. "Poor child, living with such people must have been dreadful… Thinking it was Dumbledore who arranged it must have made it feel even worse… I too find him overly fixated on manipulating everything. Sometimes, feeling resentment towards him is perfectly normal…"
Harry said with disgust, "I don't resent Professor Dumbledore! If it weren't for him, Sirius wouldn't be back!"
"I want you to understand, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, her tone as if she were explaining to a five-year-old that the moon wasn't made of cheese. "It was the Ministry that declared Sirius Black's release, that pardoned him from his sentence. Not the Headmaster."
"Well, that's true enough," Ron said. "Though it would've been even better if they hadn't locked him up in the first place."
"Ten more points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge said with immense good cheer.
Hermione, who had somehow ended up next to Anthony, whispered urgently, "Professor Anthony!"
"Don't worry about the house points, Miss Granger," Anthony said. "Ms. Umbridge hasn't taken any points off at all."
He glanced at the four hourglasses on the wall. Others followed his gaze, and even Umbridge looked up at the timers.
"Gryffindor loses ten points," she said venomously. The rubies remained utterly still.
Grins spread across every face. Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins high-fived, completely ignoring Umbridge as her pale face turned first blotchy with rage, then paler still.
Anthony demonstrated. "Gryffindor loses one point for Mr. Potter's use of magic outside school."
A single ruby shot upwards. Harry just grinned, not minding at all.
"And Gryffindor gains one point for Miss Granger correctly recalling the classification of illegal activities," Anthony said.
Clink. The ruby dropped back down.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
📚 BOOK COMPLETED ON PATREON!📚
This story has reached its conclusion on my Patreon!
🔥 Full story available now
💎 Exclusive bonus content & early access to new books
👉 Join my Patreon community today!
✨patreon(.)com/GoldenLong
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━