Umbridge felt nothing but discomfort at the prophecy, then gave a scornful little laugh.
It was as if she were silently telling Trelawney to get ready to leave Hogwarts.
Harry and Ron also thought the prophecy was way too casual—completely made-up, really.
But after class, they heard a scream from Umbridge.
Everyone turned to look—one of Umbridge's feet had been caught by the trick staircase.
As luck would have it, she had been holding something at the time, and the pen in her hand nearly stabbed her in the eye.
After yanking her leg free, she hobbled off toward the infirmary.
Lavender and the Patil twins looked at John with admiration and asked, "How did you know?"
"Prophecy… and a little trick," John said with a mysterious smile.
Peeves popped out from a nearby staircase, clearly wanting to see which unlucky soul had fallen victim.
Seeing it wasn't a student, he looked a bit disappointed.
In the afternoon, there was Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
The stunningly beautiful teacher—Oz Hilled's class.
Say what you will, the boys' enthusiasm was already through the roof.
Just like in second year, when Lockhart stirred up enthusiasm among the girls during his classes.
Defense Against the Dark Arts changed every year, with the curriculum tailored to the professor's preferences.
This year's class featured all sorts of little props.
Paper owls flying near the ceiling, and tiny fire dragons.
"Nice to meet you all," Oz Hilled said, a peppermint-flavored lollipop tucked in the corner of her mouth.
She was a heavy smoker, but since she couldn't smoke during class, she used the lollipop as a substitute.
"Take out your textbooks, Dark Arts: A Defensive Guide. I'll be teaching you some practical skills, like how to better use the wand in your hand."
She tapped the blackboard, then pulled the cloth off a human-sized object standing next to it.
Underneath was a somewhat worn human-shaped target dummy.
"During Auror training, we go through all sorts of drills. But the most important tool is still the wand in your hand."
Oz gave her wand a flick, and several paper-folded owls flew out from its tip.
"There's an advanced casting technique called nonverbal magic. It requires a high level of magical proficiency to perform."
Without speaking a word, Oz swung her wand again. The owls fluttered past the students.
With another wave, the owls burst into flames and dove straight into the target dummy.
The target dummy was blasted backward, and just before it could hit the ground, Oz gave another flick of her wand. The dummy floated in midair and landed smoothly in front of the podium.
Her display of nonverbal casting left the students in awe.
"This is sixth-year level material," Oz said. "What you need to master first is how to improve your adaptability."
"Question," she added briskly, clearly used to the Auror style of teaching—quick and direct. "What are the three key elements of magic?"
The students were caught off guard. Hermione frowned, digging through her memory for any mention of this in past lessons.
Obviously, in the feel-good teaching style of previous Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, topics like this rarely came up.
John raised his hand. Oz's eyes lit up. "Mr. Wick?"
"Magical power, incantation, technique."
"Very good. Ten points to Slytherin."
Oz hadn't expected any of them to answer correctly, but she went on, "Magical power is the foundation of how we operate magic. Incantations are the method of controlling that magic. Technique is the key to how we cast spells swiftly and effectively."
What she was teaching came directly from Auror training, which made it a bit challenging for fifth-year students.
Their first spell application of the lesson was also the one most frequently used by Aurors.
Expelliarmus.
In this area, Harry seemed to have a particular talent.
He earned some points for Gryffindor.
However, as the class neared its end, someone else was clearly displeased.
Umbridge.
Yes, as the appointed inspector. Umbridge lingered in every classroom, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was no exception.
She voiced her opinion.
Unlike Oz, who was trained as an Auror, Umbridge believed they didn't need to train a group of students who might go on to hurt others in the magical community. What she wanted was a group of students who could pass their exams.
"I'm simply trying to give students the ability to protect themselves when faced with dark magic," Oz Hilled frowned.
This semester's curriculum included practical application of the Disarming Charm, the Stunning Spell, and the Shield Charm.
"I believe students should prioritize passing their exams," Umbridge raised an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied with Oz's methods. "No one is going to hurt them."
Oz found this baffling. She had just taken the post as part of an assignment and couldn't understand Umbridge's twisted logic.
Meanwhile, Umbridge saw herself as someone sent to seize power from Dumbledore. She was used to controlling everything—especially the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sent by the Ministry.
With such conflicting views, the encounter ended on a distinctly sour note.
Ron leaned closer to Harry and asked in a low voice, "Didn't you say they were on the same side?"
Harry was just as confused. Oz was associated with Johnny Silverhand's people, and Johnny Silverhand was supposedly one of the "bad guys" working with the Ministry against Dumbledore.
Naturally, Harry had assumed Oz would be in cahoots with Umbridge. He hadn't expected things to turn out like this.
No matter how you looked at it, it seemed the Ministry wasn't entirely set on targeting Dumbledore.
Judging by Oz's behavior, she was genuinely trying to teach.
In truth, this had been John's intention all along—to focus all the hatred on Umbridge!
That way, even if the students were oppressed, they wouldn't blame the Ministry and Old Barty, but rather place all the resentment squarely on Umbridge herself.
After all, the Ministry still had a positive example in Oz. The students would simply think that Umbridge was the one acting unilaterally and ruining everything—one rotten apple spoiling the barrel.
"Do you actually believe students would be attacked in class?" Umbridge asked Oz with a fake smile, pressing her hard.
A classic case of twisting the facts—Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't something used only inside school. But Umbridge pressed on aggressively, "I don't want to criticize the school's educational methods…"
"But in this class, you've encountered several irresponsible wizards."
"Magic is very complicated and unsuitable for your age group."
"You've all been scared out of your wits, thinking you'll be attacked by dark magic every other day."
"I believe theoretical knowledge will help you pass your exams more effectively."
"What good is theory in the real world?" Harry couldn't take it anymore and shouted.
"Raise your hand, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "This is a school, not the real world."
Nice, nice, very good! In John's view, Umbridge was truly a master at being deliberately obtuse.
"Shouldn't we be prepared for what's waiting out there?" Harry said angrily.
"There's nothing waiting out there," Umbridge said in a nauseatingly sweet voice. "And as I said, raise your hand before speaking."
"And who exactly do you think would attack children like you?"
"Hmm, let me think," Harry said with a sarcastic laugh, pretending to ponder. "Maybe… Voldemort?"
Gasps and screams rang out immediately, the name acting like some kind of switch.
John's expression remained indifferent.
Heinrich...
Malfoy leaned back on his desk, Neville clenched his fists, and Daphne stabbed through her parchment with her quill.
Harry really was getting bolder and bolder.
John's gaze deepened. Let it escalate—let's see how Dumbledore handles the fallout.
Umbridge's face twitched, and she immediately docked ten points from Harry.
But Harry, as stubborn as ever, shouted, "He's not dead! He's back!"
"Nonsense!"
Not many people knew the truth. In the Ministry of Magic, if the Minister hadn't spoken up, no one would believe it.
"That's not nonsense! I saw him! I fought him!" Harry shouted.
"Detention, Mr. Potter."
Oz could no longer tolerate the farce. "Madam Umbridge, I would appreciate it if you respected my classroom."
"Oh, apologies. Tomorrow evening, five o'clock, my office," Umbridge said sweetly. She clearly had no concept of respect.
After all, she'd been sent to counterbalance Dumbledore—nothing anyone said mattered to her.
But what she didn't realize was that the more she acted like this, the more stubborn Harry became.
"So, according to you, Heinrich Edgar burned himself to death, is that it?" Harry said mockingly.
Silence fell over the room.
"Potter!" Malfoy stood up, trembling.
Noticing something was wrong, Oz intervened. "Mr. Malfoy, sit down."
But his eyes were locked on Harry, wand clutched tightly in hand, seething. "Don't you dare use that filthy mouth of yours to say his name!"
"I won't allow anyone, anywhere, to use his name as a joke or for showing off!"
Malfoy roared, and for a moment, it felt like he was on the verge of casting a dark spell—his fury was frightening.
But he wasn't the center of attention.
Everyone turned to look at someone else.
John's face was grim, his eyelids lifting ever so slightly.
An oppressive force filled the air, suffocating, as if the entire classroom might ignite in the next second.
"You can call yourself the savior who fought Voldemort, Harry Potter," John's heavy, stifling voice rang out, "but you shouldn't use someone else's death as a way to flaunt your own bravery."
"That's foolish. And frankly, very unlikeable."
His cold words chilled the room—literally.
Oz was about to speak, but paused.
She noticed the white mist forming with each breath. That drop in temperature wasn't just her imagination.
Reaching out to touch the desk, she felt a thin layer of frost forming on the surface.
Umbridge, oblivious, didn't notice any of it. But the words she was about to speak—regarding Heinrich's death—died in her throat.
The icy pressure in the air seemed to creep into everyone present, freezing them to the bone.
Harry gradually calmed down, finally realizing he might've said something out of line.
By the time class ended, the chill had faded.
A thin sheen of dew coated the windows.
John stood and left, with Malfoy trailing closely behind. As he passed Harry, Malfoy slammed hard into his shoulder.
Harry staggered and almost fell.
__________
Read 12 Chaps ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel