Teaching Inspections

In the morning, Umbridge reviewed Flitwick's Charms for the seventh-year students. According to Cassius Warrington, Flitwick's skill and teaching methods were beyond reproach. Throughout the class, Umbridge simply huddled in a corner, constantly taking notes on his whiteboard.

Flitwick treated Umbridge as merely a bystander, seemingly unconcerned about the matter. Umbridge didn't say much either, only asking Gryffindor's Arya Spinnet a few questions about what classes were like, to which Arya answered truthfully.

In the afternoon, Umbridge appeared at Trelawney's Divination Class.

Unlike in the original story, Trelawney here possesses genuine Divination abilities. She merely displays a tiny fraction of her power, yet it leaves Umbridge with no choice but to accept her fate.

In the afternoon, Umbridge did not continue her investigation because she had a fifth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts.

In the previous lesson, the students had already finished learning the first chapter of "Defensive Magical Theory." In this lesson, Umbridge simply asked the students to read the second chapter on their own before sitting down behind the podium with a smug look on her face.

The Gryffindor students were still complaining bitterly, but the Slytherin students had learned their lesson. They had secretly interspersed pages from other books into their textbooks and were now reading them with great interest.

In class, Hermione bravely raised her hand to speak, but because she challenged Slinka's statement about anti-curses, Gryffindor lost five points.

"Why?" Harry demanded angrily from Umbridge, his fists clenching involuntarily, his face flushed with rage.

"Don't get involved!" Hermione whispered anxiously, her brow furrowed and her eyes filled with unease, as if pleading with Harry not to cause any more trouble.

"Because you disrupted my class with pointless interruptions," Professor Umbridge said slowly, his smile still sweet, but a cold, authoritative glint in his eyes.

"I teach here using methods approved by the Ministry of Magic, which don't include encouraging students to express their opinions on things they don't fully understand. Previous teachers who taught this subject may have given you more freedom, but none of them passed the Ministry of Magic's vetting process— Professor Quirrell is probably an exception; at least he seems to only teach content suitable for your age—"

"Yes, Quirrell is a wonderful teacher," Harry retorted loudly, a cold smile playing on his lips, his green eyes blazing with anger. "There's just one small flaw: Voldemort is stuck to the back of his head."

The moment those words were spoken, the classroom fell into a deathly silence. The air seemed to freeze, and even the scratching sound of the quill pen gliding across parchment ceased abruptly.

Harry could feel all the students around him holding their breath, their eyes darting back and forth between him and Umbridge. Hermione's face was pale, her lips trembling slightly, and Ron's eyes were wide open, as if he couldn't believe that Harry would actually say such a thing in public.

Umbridge's smile froze for a moment, her eyes narrowed, but she quickly regained her usual gentleness, saying in that chillingly tender tone, "I think another week of solitary confinement will do you some good, Mr. Potter."

Her voice was still sweet, but Harry could clearly sense a dangerous glint in her eyes, like a viper eyeing its prey.

Unbeknownst to Umbridge, she had already put herself in danger.

At that moment, that deep, chilling voice echoed in Harry's mind again—

Another solitary confinement? Who does this ugly woman think she is...?

Pick up your wand... and shut her up...

Let her taste the punishment she deserves...

Like you did to Filch... no, worse... she deserves more pain... attack her... torture her... make her suffer... make her regret it...

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force, the rage surging in his chest almost burning away his reason. Umbridge's fake smile, her nauseatingly sweet voice, her hostility towards Dumbledore, what he had done while in solitary confinement... all these images intertwined in Harry's mind, turning into a frenzied impulse.

If there were no one else here...

If he pulls out his wand now...

What expression will she have?

Will I, like Filch, stare wide-eyed in terror, my lips trembling?

Or will she scream and beg herself to stop?

His heart was pounding terribly, as if something dark was stirring within him.

Skylar observed all of this with an expressionless face.

He could clearly sense that Harry's anger had reached its peak, and he even felt a faint murderous intent. If no one else were around, Harry would probably have already drawn his wand and delivered a blow to Umbridge that she would never forget.

Thinking of this, he slightly raised his fingers, his wand still firmly tucked into his sleeve, not yet revealed, but an invisible magical power had already quietly gathered.

"Click--!"

The vase on the podium suddenly shattered, shards of porcelain scattered everywhere, petals lay strewn across the floor, and water quickly soaked the podium.

A low gasp rippled through the classroom. Harry jolted awake, as if jolted from some frenzied hallucination. His breathing quickened, cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his clenched fists slowly loosened.

Umbridge's smile froze for a moment as she suspiciously scanned the classroom, her gaze slowly moving over the students, trying to find the culprit. But everyone was either looking down at their books or staring nervously at the shattered remains of the vase; no one dared to meet her eyes.

Skylar lowered his eyelids, and the magic at his fingertips quietly dissipated, as if nothing had happened.

Harry took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He glanced up at Skylar, who remained indifferent, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with him.

But Harry had a vague feeling that this was no coincidence, and that among all the students, only Skylar possessed this ability!

A sense of fear crept into my heart. Why did he do that? Did he sense something?

Various thoughts raced through Harry's mind.

During his night in solitary confinement, Harry didn't utter a sound of pain; he was determined not to embolden Umbridge. He wrote "I must not lie" over and over again, not letting a single sound escape his lips, even though each time he wrote it, the wound seemed to etch itself deeper.

Harry's hand wound hadn't fully healed from his previous detention, and it started bleeding again the next morning.

That wasn't all. Harry had just reached the Gryffindor table to have breakfast when Angelina blocked his way and started yelling at him. Her voice was so loud that Professor McGonagall left her desk and rushed toward them.

McGonagall deducted five points from Gryffindor because of Angelina's loud outburst in the Great Hall, and then, upon learning that Harry had been put in detention for talking back to Umbridge, she angrily deducted another five points from Gryffindor.

Harry was deeply resentful of her decision, but Hermione thought McGonagall was right to remind Harry not to lose his temper with Umbridge, which angered Harry so much that he refused to speak to Hermione for the entire Charms.

In the afternoon, Umbridge appeared in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration.

Although Umbridge disliked McGonagall, she couldn't find fault with her rigorous classes, but she did encounter a few setbacks with McGonagall.

The time finally came for Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures.

When the Gryffindor and Slytherin wizards arrived in front of Hagrid's Hut, Umbridge was already waiting there with her usual smile on her face, though this time, instead of feeling disgusted by it, the wizards felt a chill.