Second Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts Class

Facing Umbridge's relentless pressure, Hermione showed no expression and didn't even flinch.

"Answer me! You despicable little b****, did you do it!"

Her short wand pointed directly at Hermione, close to her nose, as if ready to cast a terrible curse at any moment.

Seeing that Hermione remained unmoved, Umbridge's hand holding the wand trembled uncontrollably.

"Not answering? I'll make you answer."

Hermione not only saw a terrifying smile but also a short wand swinging fiercely towards her face.

Unlike last time, Umbridge dared to resort to corporal punishment—no, to abuse a student.

As if she had practiced thousands of times in her memory, Hermione quickly extended her small hand, precisely grabbed the middle of the short wand, and then forcefully bent it sideways.

"Ah—" Umbridge's wrist, holding the wand tightly, was bent outwards at a bizarre angle.

Clearly, her wrist was dislocated.

Her eyes widened even further, not just from the pain in her wrist, but from the surprise of the physical disarming spell.

Before today, she had always scoffed at disarming someone empty-handed.

Wizards weren't fools; they wouldn't let enemies get close.

But now, the "enemy" was right in front of her, and it turned out she was the fool.

"You—" Umbridge retreated in terror, "You... you ignorant, filthy little Mudblood!"

Her voice was filled with pure hatred, "Assaulting a professor! You and Wayne are anti-social elements of the wizarding world! You are sores that need to be eliminated immediately!"

Hermione's already cold gaze became incredibly sharp. She used the short wand she had taken to strike Umbridge's distorted, toad-like face fiercely.

The wand handle shattered at least five layers of Umbridge's foundation, and her piled-up fat rippled outwards in circles.

With a "smack," Umbridge fell to the floor.

Her eyes were so wide that her eyeballs almost fell out, unable to believe any of this was real.

Hermione dropped the slightly deformed short wand, her cold gaze as if looking at a corpse, "You don't deserve to be a professor, let alone a person."

Umbridge lunged forward with a ferocious expression, only to be kicked flying onto a table covered with a lace tablecloth.

Perhaps she was too heavy, as the table, unable to bear the load, split in half.

Hermione brought her not only physical pain but also endless humiliation.

The esteemed Senior Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Magic, the Ministry of Magic's Special Education Commissioner, had been beaten by a Muggle-born little Mudblood.

"Hermione Granger!" Umbridge roared, her entire face contorted beyond recognition, "I swear! I will ensure your name is recorded!

Not just at Hogwarts! I will ensure every department in the Ministry of Magic knows you! I will personally send you to the Supreme Wizarding Court! Your future, your life, it's all over!"

"Hmph—" Hermione let out a cold laugh.

In her entire life, she had never hated anyone as much as she did now. She desperately wanted to use a curse—no, a venomous curse—to teach this person a lesson.

But she eventually calmed down. This psychologically twisted pervert wasn't worth dirtying her hands over.

"My life and my future are not for you to decide."

Hermione slowly walked up to Umbridge, looking down at her, "You even dare to utter the Banished Word. I suggest you think about your own life and future first."

Possessing a Dark Magic item, abusing students, and verbal insults—the severity of these offenses was enough to warrant a trial at the Supreme Wizarding Court.

A venomous glint flashed in Umbridge's eyes, but it quickly turned more malicious, "Threatening me? Granger, who do you think you are? Do you think your grades represent everything?"

She grabbed a broken table leg and swung it ferociously at Hermione like a madwoman.

However, she overestimated her own strength and underestimated the other party's reaction speed.

The half table leg stopped in front of Hermione, completely still. Umbridge's distorted, toad-like face was filled with horror.

Nonverbal spells and Wandless Magic, and even a Shield Charm, a "high-level magic" that even Aurors might not be able to cast perfectly.

How could a mere student, a Muggle-born student, master such profound magic? They should be forever inferior to Pure-blood Wizards.

A blurry figure suddenly appeared in Umbridge's mind.

"Only your fat-filled brain could come up with such a flawed lie... Calling you a pig's brain is an insult to pigs... "

It was that person, the one who openly defied the Ministry's authority and could see through her lies at a glance, Vincent Wayne.

Despite being Muggle-born, he had repeatedly shattered the deeply ingrained blood purity theories of wizards. If he were willing to cooperate fully with the Ministry, his future would undoubtedly reach Dumbledore's level.

"What's there to be so surprised about," Hermione snatched the half table leg from Umbridge's grasp. "You can't even handle me, a student. What right do you have to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

With a "clatter," the half table leg was dropped onto the floor.

"The facts prove your theories are utterly useless. Hurry back to the Ministry and continue being your Senior Deputy Minister, or else—"

Hermione's face was expressionless, neither angry nor contemptuous, as calm as a lake without a ripple. "I will expose everything you've done at the school. I guarantee that by then, you will lose everything you currently possess."

Umbridge gasped for air with her mouth wide open. The Hermione before her began to slowly overlap with the figure in her mind.

"Those with malice in their hearts see conspiracies in everything... You only see what you want to see... Such narrow-minded thinking will only hinder personal and societal development... "

She had graduated from Slytherin House, yet her family was not as "respectable" as she claimed.

Her father, Alford Umbridge, was a wizard with a low-ranking position at the Ministry of Magic who never received a promotion, contrary to her lie that he was a distinguished wizard of the Wizengamot.

Her mother, on the other hand, was a Muggle, and her younger brother was even a Squib.

From childhood, she always viewed her father as a failure lacking ambition and ability, and the existence of her mother and brother was a lifelong shame.

So, after becoming an adult, she cut off all contact with her family and began systematically fabricating a Pure-blood Wizard identity for herself. Anyone who dared to question or mention her true family background would later suffer various "unfortunate accidents."

To curry favor with the powerful, she fawned over her superiors without any bottom line. The positive reviews she received for being cold and calculating led to multiple promotions.

What were the "misfortunes" of her family of origin? Everything Umbridge had now was the result of her own "hard" struggle; no one could destroy it!

She didn't take Hermione's threat to heart at all, and Hermione didn't pay attention to her eyes, which were filled with pure hatred.