The Ministry of Magic Makes Its Move

When people were angry, they often spat out harsh words like, "I'll kill you," but those were usually just like the patterns on a butterfly's wings—meant only to scare off an enemy.

But you could completely believe every vicious word that came out of Umbridge's mouth, because her heart was rotten enough to carry out every evil deed.

Umbridge stood tall, like a wild boar searching for corn in a field. Her mung-bean eyes kept sweeping through the crowd until her gaze finally locked straight onto Harry.

"Harry Potter!" Harry had never imagined that his name would one day be shouted at such a high pitch.

Everyone present followed Umbridge's gaze, and for a moment, Harry became the second focal point of the scene once more.

"What trick did you pull?" Poison gleamed in Umbridge's eyes. Her face, deathly pale beneath layers of powder, nearly pressed against Harry's, and a pungent wave of perfume assaulted him.

The people around them could not help frowning.

"What trick could I possibly have pulled?" Harry shrugged. Faced with the aggressive Umbridge, he was not flustered in the slightest. With Eli and the professors here, that old toad could never hurt him.

"You refuse to admit it? Fine. Very fine. The Ministry of Magic is very skilled at dealing with people like you." Pink had always symbolized cuteness and gentleness, but against Umbridge's savage expression, it looked just as chilling.

"What are you talking about? What do you want to do to my student?" Professor McGonagall strode over quickly. Her voice trembled with extreme fury; Eli had never seen Professor McGonagall so angry.

Professor McGonagall stood directly between Umbridge and Harry, her sharp gaze mercilessly meeting Umbridge's malice. "Students are not criminals. Even if you intend to punish him, you must do so according