No matter how fiercely the storms raged outside.
Umbridge remained unshaken.
On the fourth day of the Work-and-Rest Regulations.
Hogwarts no longer resembled a school.
It was more like Big Ben beside the River Thames.
Every hand meshed, every gear turned, without a single second of slack.
Orderly footsteps echoed across the marble floor of the Entrance Hall.
Students passed through the corridors at almost a race-walking pace, two abreast, three feet apart, the pink booklets in their hands all open to the same page.
No one whispered to anyone else.
No one looked up at the ghosts drifting across the ceiling.
Because the pink parchment pinned to the noticeboard stated quite clearly-any student who was late, dawdled, or failed to bring the required textbooks would lose all free time that weekend and the right to visit Hogsmeade, and would automatically drop two places in the White List rankings.
Mr. Filch stood at a corridor corner, rubbing his hands.
His expression was deeply satisfied.
This was what he had always wanted.
Umbridge stood at the top of the Marble Staircase.
Her pink cardigan had been ironed free of even a single crease.
The Cat-Faced Brooch glittered in the light of the wall lamps.
She looked down at the lines of students filing past beneath her.
Their steps matched.
Their breathing was even.
Their lines were straight.
No one looked around, no one laughed or played, and no one showed even a trace of the carefree unruliness natural to their age.
The corners of her mouth curved upward.
This was what Hogwarts ought to look like.
Only three minutes remained for breakfast in the Great Hall.
The food on the four long tables was still steaming, but most of the students had already finished eating.
The faster ones were even using