HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

Seeing the students come in, her smile widened, but it conveyed no warmth whatsoever; instead, it was like a layer of greasy paint.

"Alright, students, please be quiet and take your seats."

She spoke in a high-pitched, affected voice, as if she were coaxing a group of kindergarten children.

After everyone was seated, she walked briskly to the front of the stage.

"Please put your wands away, everyone. We still won't need them today."

She smiled and said, "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts course this semester will focus on understanding magical theory and... well... mastering the basics. Now, please open 'Defense Against the Dark Arts Theory' to page five, and we will begin copying down the key points of Chapter One."

A reluctant, sparse sound of pages turning filled the classroom.

Then a hand was raised firmly; it was Hermione Granger.

Umbridge glanced at Hermione but acted as if she didn't see her, continuing in her sickeningly sweet voice, "Let's start from the first paragraph..."

But Hermione's arm remained firmly raised like a flagpole, without flinching.

Her persistence attracted the attention of more and more classmates, and a subtle commotion began to emerge in the classroom.

Umbridge could no longer pretend to ignore it; a fleeting look of displeasure crossed her face, but it was immediately masked by her fake smile.

“Darling, who are you…?” She pretended not to recognize Hermione.

"Hermione Granger, Professor."

"Is there a problem with you, Miss Granger?"

"Yes."

Hermione stated clearly, "I have a question. Don't we need to use wands? There might be a reason why Advanced Charms Theory and Practice restricts spellcasting, but doesn't Defense Against the Dark Arts also involve practicing magic? How are we supposed to learn defense?"

Umbridge said with a smile, “In my class, you will learn safe and sound defense theories approved by the Ministry of Magic. Once you fully grasp these theories, you will be able to handle any situation you may encounter. Trust me, you will not need to use wands.”

Sitting in the back row, Parvati Petil couldn't help but speak up: "But Professor, we're taking the OWLs exam this year! What will we do if we never practice breaking or defending spells?"

“As long as your theoretical knowledge is solid enough,” Umbridge said with a smile, in an unquestionable tone, “the exam will be no problem at all.”

“You mean,” Dean Thomas asked incredulously, “that the first time we actually used defensive spells was in the OWLs’ exam hall?”

“Absolutely correct.” Umbridge nodded in satisfaction, as if praising a bright student.

“What if we get attacked?” Hermione asked bluntly.

Umbridge let out a short, forced laugh: "This is completely unnecessary panic. An attack? Who would attack a group of students like you?"

This sentence was like lighting a fuse.

Harry's pent-up anger finally broke through the critical point.

He forced a near-provocative smile, his voice carrying clearly through the suddenly quiet classroom:

“Let me think, maybe it’s… Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Like what Barty Crouch Jr. did to us in the floating arena last semester.”

"Hiss—" A collective gasp filled the classroom.

Everyone stared at Harry in horror, then stole glances at Umbridge.

Simply calling out that name is shocking enough, let alone in this kind of setting.

Umbridge's smile slowly froze, then peeled off like cheap paint, revealing the cold undertones beneath.

She took a deep breath, and the bow on her chest heaved violently.

“Mr. Potter,” her voice was still clenched, but now had a sharp edge, “because of your nonsense, Gryffindor will lose ten points. And I hope you will stop spreading such alarmist rumors.”

“This is not a rumor.” Harry met her gaze without flinching.

Umbridge seemed to have decided to change tactics. She reappeared her nauseating smile and began to critique the past professors: "I understand, and we must admit, Hogwarts' past Defense Against the Dark Arts education was problematic. Look at your previous professors; apart from Professor Quirrell, who was somewhat competent, the others, unfortunately, were either liars, werewolves, or dangerous criminals. That's why you've become what you are today..."

“Yes,” Harry immediately chimed in, his tone sharp with sarcasm, “Professor Quirrell is quite good, if only he hadn’t had Voldemort stuck to the back of his head.”

The classroom fell into a deathly silence once again; you could hear even the sound of a quill pen falling to the ground.

The air froze once again.

Umbridge was still smiling, her small eyes fixed on Harry, a malice gleaming within them.

“Mr. Potter,” she said, emphasizing each word, “you are in solitary confinement tonight.”

"Putting me in solitary confinement doesn't change anything," Harry said nonchalantly.

“Voldemort has never been resurrected,” Umbridge emphasized with a smile, showing no fear whatsoever. “That’s all just a story made up by some people.”

"is it?"

Harry, undeterred, pressed on, his voice rising slightly, "Then how do you explain those pure-blood family members who died in Little Hangleton? Those Death Eaters, were they staying up all night, wearing masks, and having a masquerade ball?"

Ignoring the horrified looks on everyone's faces, he said without hesitation, "Professor Greengrass helped you solve a huge problem, and yet you issued an arrest warrant for him!"

"There is absolutely no problem with the Ministry of Magic issuing an arrest warrant for Sagres Greengrass!"

Umbridge smiled, her expression turning smug. "Because his actions seriously violated the laws of the Ministry of Magic, he should, and must, be held accountable."

"Really?"

Harry sneered, "When Professor Greengrass was still at Hogwarts, when your finger was chopped off, the Ministry of Magic wasn't this tough."

"Shut up!"

Umbridge shrieked, her face contorting instantly. "If you dare to continue telling these lies, I guarantee you'll be expelled from Hogwarts!"

“You don’t have the authority to expel students,” Hermione immediately said. “Only the headmaster and the board of directors have that authority.”

Umbridge abruptly turned to Hermione, a smile a mixture of smugness and cruelty spreading across her face. “Miss Granger,” she said, “it seems you have a misunderstanding of my authority. According to Educational Decree No. 23, I, Dolores Jan Umbridge, as a Senior Investigator at Hogwarts, have the authority not only to expel any student for misconduct—”

She paused deliberately, enjoying the fleeting shock on Hermione's face. "—I even have the right to fire a professor I deem incompetent. Now, continue copying! Potter, seven o'clock tonight, my office, locked up!"

She turned her back to the class, her shoulders stiff.

The only sounds in the classroom were the scratching of quills across parchment and a suffocating silence.

Chapter 413 Solitary Confinement (Part Two)

Two grueling Defense Against the Dark Arts classes finally ended, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed out of the classroom with the silent flow of students, each with a weary look on their faces as they were relieved from mental torture.

“I can’t believe it,” Ron muttered, rubbing his temples. “She actually made us copy ‘The Importance of Defense Theory Approved by the Ministry of Magic’ three times over.”

Harry and Ron trudged toward the North Tower, bracing themselves for the omen of death that Professor Trelawney had prepared for them at the start of the new term.

An hour later, when they met Hermione, who had been waiting for them, at the top of the castle stairs, both boys had empty, lifeless eyes, because they had just heard about several different ways they would die in the coming week.

"She predicted you'd die again, Harry?" Hermione asked sharply, while tidying up the thick books in her bag.

“This time it was drowning,” Ron answered for Harry, yawning, “in the bathroom.”

The three walked silently toward the hall, intending to have dinner to soothe their wounded hearts.

However, as they approached the auditorium doors, they heard an unusual commotion—interspersed with terrified, shrill screams that sounded familiar yet repulsive.

They quickened their pace and entered the hallway. The sight before them made the three of them instantly forget all their unpleasantness and almost burst out laughing.

Professor Umbridge stood in the center of the foyer, spinning and bouncing wildly like a wind-up pink top, waving his hands futilely above his head.

Her screams nearly pierced people's eardrums: "Get it down! Get it down! Ahhh—!"

The instigator of this chaos was none other than Pipi Ghost.

The mischievous boy was floating in mid-air, tumbling around gleefully and letting out a shrill, cacophony laugh.

He was holding a few squeaky gray mice that he had stolen from Transfiguration class, and he kept throwing them at Umbridge's messy hair.

The rats seemed terrified as well; some clung tightly to her hair with their claws, while others hid behind the ridiculous red bow, fixing themselves firmly to it.

“Pee-pee! I order you to get this...this disgusting creature off my head right now!” Umbridge screamed furiously as she tried to grab the rats.

"No! No! Stupid professor, ugly professor, pink toad professor!" Mischievous Ghost sang his self-composed rhyme and threw another dung ball at her, luckily she dodged it.

Umbridge saw the students gathering and immediately clung to them like a lifeline: "You! Quick! Someone help me get this thing down! Hurry!"

However, she was met with faces that were trying to suppress their laughter.

Ron deliberately spoke loudly, his voice full of innocence: "But Professor, didn't you just teach us in class to strictly abide by the school rules? The school rules stipulate that students cannot use magic in the corridors. We cannot break the rules."

"That's right!"

Dean Thomas immediately chimed in, trying to keep a straight face, “We need to solve this with a ‘safe, secure, theoretical’ approach, right, Professor? Show us.”

A suppressed snickering sound rose from the surroundings.

Seeing Umbridge, who usually acted so pretentious, in such a sorry state, a sense of vengeful pleasure spread among the students.

Looking at Umbridge's panicked state, Harry felt as if all the anger and frustration he had accumulated that afternoon had found an outlet.

He couldn't hold back any longer and burst into laughter.

Amidst the suppressed snickers, his laughter stood out as particularly loud and jarring.

Umbridge suddenly grabbed the mouse on the bow tie and slammed it to the ground.

Then she stopped jumping and her malevolent gaze instantly locked onto Harry.

Peeves and the rat on her head no longer seemed to matter.

"Potter!"

She said coldly, "Because you openly mocked the professor when he was in trouble and incited chaos! Your confinement will be extended! Starting now, every night at seven o'clock, for a whole week! Now, get out of here immediately!"

She pointed her wand at the hall doors, her chest heaving violently.

Harry's smile froze instantly, but then turned into a nonchalant sneer.

He shrugged and, amidst the sympathetic yet somewhat admiring gazes of his classmates, walked into the auditorium first.

Ron and Hermione quickly followed him. Hermione whispered worriedly, "Harry, you shouldn't have provoked her like that..."

“It doesn’t matter, Hermione,” Harry took a deep breath. Although he knew the following week of confinement would be a nightmare, he felt unusually happy at the moment. “Someone always needs to rebel against her because what she wants is our absolute obedience. If everyone listens to her, she will have achieved her goal.”

The three sat down at the Gryffindor table, and before they could even put food on their plates, they saw Draco Malfoy stroll over with the big Goyle.

“I’ve heard about your remarkable feat, Potter,” Malfoy said, his eyes devoid of amusement, his brow furrowing slightly. “Openly defying the new professor in Defense Against the Dark Arts class? I don’t know whether to call you courageous or utterly foolish.”

Harry looked up, his weariness and lingering anger making him unwilling to argue with Malfoy, but he still asked, "So what? What do you think would make sense? Like you, obediently copying those useless theories and pretending everything is fine?"