HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

He built a wall of silence, locking all the pain and humiliation inside his heart.

Every stroke of the words "I cannot lie" inscribed on the parchment and on the back of his hand transformed into an even stronger conviction in his heart.

On the third night, when Harry sat in that pink office again and picked up the black quill pen, he sensed something different.

The skin on the back of my hand, which had been repeatedly cut before, seemed to have finally reached a critical point.

The pen tip traced the line, and the pain persisted, but once the magically induced healing process was complete, what remained was no longer temporary redness and swelling, but rather clear raised lines, a series of dark pink scars—I cannot lie.

The handwriting looked as if it had been sewn onto his skin with the coarsest needle and thread, appearing grotesque and glaring, like a brand that could never be removed.

When the confinement ended, Umbridge, as usual, grabbed his hand to check it.

A glimmer of joy flashed in her small, round eyes when she saw the scar that was now permanently etched on the back of Harry's hand.

Her wide, toad-like mouth finally broke into a genuine, heartfelt smile of satisfaction.

"Very good...very good..."

She murmured to herself, gently tracing the raised scars with her fingers, the touch sending a shiver down Harry's spine. "That's more like it. A clear and lasting reminder."

Harry forced back the nausea in his throat and pulled his hand away. "Shall we continue, Professor?"

Umbridge waved his hand cheerfully: "That's enough for tonight, Mr. Potter. It's almost one in the morning, you can go home and get some rest. But we'll continue tomorrow night, we need to... reinforce the impression and make sure it doesn't fade over time."

She spoke in a relaxed tone, as if she were discussing something interesting.

Harry left in silence.

Back in the common room, he casually joined Ron and Hermione, just like the previous two nights, to continue their homework and magical practice.

However, when he practiced spells by waving his wand, the bright red, twisted scar on the back of his hand could not be hidden under the light.

"Harry, you're not concentrating enough, your wrist needs to be adjusted..."

Hermione gave him instructions as usual, her gaze then falling on the back of his hand.

Her voice stopped abruptly, and her eyes widened suddenly.

"Harry!" she cried out, rushing over without a word and grabbing his wrist with surprising force.

Harry instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but Hermione held on tightly. Her face turned pale, her eyes were fixed on the words etched into her skin, and her lips trembled slightly.

"What...what is this?" Her voice was filled with disbelief and terror. "What's going on?!"

Ron also came over, and when he saw the words on the back of Harry's hand, he gasped, and a surge of anger instantly welled up on his face: "That old witch did it?!"

Harry knew he couldn't hide it anymore. He lowered his gaze and whispered, "It's nothing...it's just..."

“Copying sentences?!” Hermione’s voice rose eight octaves, trembling with tears. “You said she only punished you by making you copy sentences, but you didn’t tell us it was written on the back of your hand! Harry, why didn’t you say so?!”

“I…” Harry opened his mouth, but didn’t know how to explain.

“We can’t let this go on!” Ron trembled with rage, his fists clenched. “She’s insane! She’s sick! We have to tell Professor McGonagall!”

"no!"

Harry immediately objected, his tone resolute, "We can't drag Professor McGonagall into this! Have you forgotten? Umbridge has the right to fire a professor! I can't let her get involved!"

“Then…then tell Headmaster Dumbledore!” Hermione said eagerly.

“Where is he?” Harry asked bitterly. “We can’t find him at all. He and Hagrid have vanished as if they’ve disappeared.”

These words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the brief surge of intense emotion among the three.

Silence fell over the lounge, broken only by the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace.

A profound sense of powerlessness enveloped them.

Who can they turn to?

Who can stand up to the high-ranking investigator appointed by the Ministry of Magic?

Just then, Ron said somewhat dejectedly, "If Professor Greengrass were here..."

This statement stunned the other two.

They all thought of that reliable professor.

If he were still alive, Umbridge would never have dared to act so recklessly, and Harry would never have suffered such torture.

But this thought brought not comfort, but a deeper sense of loss.

"yes……"

Hermione's voice was as soft as a sigh as she looked at the gruesome scar on Harry's hand, her voice filled with sorrow, "It's a pity, he probably... will never come back."

This was the first time they had realized so clearly that the professor who had saved them from danger so many times and given them strength and confidence seemed to have truly disappeared from their world.

Chapter 415 Do you need help?

Faced with an increasingly aggressive Umbridge, Harry, Ron, and Hermione's mindset begins to shift under pressure.

Simply enduring and complaining won't help, so they started trying to take action.

The next day, Harry still walked to the pink office at seven o'clock sharp, ready to continue to endure the silent torment.

Meanwhile, Hermione threw herself into a frantic search for information.

She practically lived in the library, burying herself in the thick tomes of magical law, trying to find articles that could prove Umbridge's use of the dark magic quill to punish students was clearly illegal.

She firmly believed that as long as she found solid legal grounds, she could bring down that woman.

“The Guidelines for the Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards explicitly prohibit disciplinary measures that cause permanent magical damage,” Hermione said quickly to Ron in the common room, her eyes dark circles under her eyes. “But Umbridge may have exploited loopholes related to ‘non-permanent’ and ‘educational purposes’… I need to find more specific precedents!”

She also told Ron to prepare for another possibility.

“Ron, write to Mr. Weasley and tell him everything that happened to Harry. Umbridge definitely has political enemies in the Ministry of Magic. Maybe Mr. Weasley can find a way to put pressure on her within the Ministry and limit her power.”

Ron did as he was told. He wrote a long letter detailing the quill and the horrible scar on Harry's hand, and then asked Piglet to deliver it as soon as possible.

However, their resistance was like a fragile spider web, easily crushed by Umbridge.

On the afternoon the letter was sent, the trio was just about to go see if the missing Hagrid had returned when Umbridge blocked their way down the corridor like a hound that had caught a scent.

A confident smile graced her face, and her smug expression made her look like she had just swallowed a plump fly.

“Weasley,” her sweet voice echoed between the stone walls, her gaze falling on Ron, “I’ve received some… disturbing news. You seem to have written some false letters about Hogwarts staff, attempting to slander and interfere with the Ministry of Magic’s educational work.”

Ron's face turned pale instantly.

Hermione immediately stepped forward, shielding Ron behind her, and bravely looked Umbridge in the eye: "I had Ron write that letter! And it wasn't slander, because everything in it is true!"

Umbridge's smile widened, her small eyes gleaming with malice: "Oh? You ordered it, Miss Granger? Very well, very well."

She said in a tone of feigned regret, "Well then, I regret to inform you that because you incited others to defame professors and seriously disrupted school order, you can now go back to Gryffindor Tower and pack your bags."

Hermione was stunned, as if she didn't understand what she was saying.

"What...what do you mean?" Ron stammered.

“What I mean is,” Umbridge said clearly and deliberately, “Hermione Granger, you’ve been expelled from Hogwarts. The official documents will soon be delivered to your guardians via Owl Mail. By the way, this time it won’t matter who you contact.”

She watched with satisfaction as Hermione's face drained of color and Ron's horrified expression faded, then turned to Harry. "As for you, Potter, come with me. It's time for your detention."

She reached out to grab Harry's arm, but Harry abruptly shook her off.

The boy stared at Umbridge in disbelief, then at Hermione, who stood frozen in place.

“You can’t do that!” Harry said angrily.

Seeing Harry angry, Umbridge became even happier. She put on a sweet, cloying voice that carried a nauseating smugness: "Of course I can do that."

“You can’t just expel a student like that; Dumbledore won’t agree.”

“I have that right, and I don’t need anyone’s permission.” Umbridge looked at the three of them with a smile. “Now, Granger, go back and pack your bags. Potter, don’t make me say it a second time, unless you want to be fired too.”

Then she practically dragged Harry, who kept looking back at Hermione, away as she turned and left.

Hermione stood there, stunned, tears silently streaming down her face.

He got fired?

Is it really that simple?

Years of diligent study, all the memories of Hogwarts, just came to an abrupt end like this?

As she watched Umbridge's departing figure, her trembling fingertips unconsciously touched her wand, the tip of which crackled with electricity.

“She… what she said can’t be true.” Ron’s voice pulled her back to her remaining sanity.

He tried to comfort Hermione, and also himself, "She can't just expel a student so easily! Let's go find Professor McGonagall! She'll definitely have a way!"

Hermione seemed to be awakened by those words. She wiped away her tears forcefully, and a faint glimmer of hope rekindled in her eyes.

Yes, Professor McGonagall! She can't just give up like this!

“I’m going to find Professor McGonagall right now! But don’t go, Ron,” Hermione said, choking back tears, as she quickly pulled a notebook from her bag and shoved it into his arms. “You keep writing letters, in my name, and send a copy to everyone mentioned in this notebook.”

Ron opened the notebook, and what greeted his eyes were densely packed clippings. Upon closer inspection, he discovered they were meticulously organized contact addresses:

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – ​​Amelia Borns – Ministry of Magic, Head of the Auror Office, Level 2, Blackwood Door.

Ms. Vogel, Director of Education, Ministry of Magic—Ministry of Magic, Office of the Association for Magical Educational Standards, Level 5, Bronze Mailbox.

Wizengamo Elder - Gershard Machiban - Marchban Manor, Caithnessshire, Scotland, Barn Owl Perch

International Wizarding Federation – Madam Basmond – Sweden, International Magic Education Association, Alabaster Tower, International Affairs Office.

The Wizarding Gazette – News and Clue Submissions – Sydney, Australia, Chrysler Building, Editorial Office of The Wizarding Gazette, News Department Owl Shack.

……

Hermione shoved the notebook into Ron's hands and immediately turned around, wiping away her tears as she ran toward Professor McGonagall's office.

Ron stood there blankly, staring at the two pages of addresses on his notebook. He hesitated for two seconds before grabbing his bag and running towards the common room.

Hermione stumbled through the familiar corridor, tears blurring her vision, despair weighing heavily on her heart like a boulder.

She turned a corner and came to the corridor where Professor McGonagall's office was located.

dong dong dong-

The urgent knocking echoed in the empty corridor.