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HP Chapter 131: Career Counseling
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 14:35:18 +0000 UTCOn the first day back from the Easter holidays, a stack of pamphlets, flyers, and notices about various magical careers appeared on the tables in the Gryffindor common room. Along with them, a notice was pinned to the bulletin board:
"All fifth-year students must attend a short career consultation session with their Head of House this week to discuss future career plans. The schedule is posted below."
Anne was seated in the common room, flipping through one of the pamphlets. The emblem of St. Mungo’s Hospital, crossed bone and wand, was printed on the cover.
Fanny plopped down into an armchair beside her. “Anne, don’t tell me you want to be a Healer?”
Anne glanced at her and shook her head. “If I became a Healer, Aunt Diana would never stop nagging me. I'm just curious about the requirements for different careers.”
“Oh? So what does it say about Healers?”
“It says you need at least an ‘E’ in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts on your N.E.W.T.s.”
“That’s not too bad,” Fanny said.
Anne nodded and tossed the pamphlet aside, picking up another one, this time about careers in wizard banking. “Travel, adventure, danger, and treasure, are you seeking a career that’s thrilling and rewarding? Consider joining Gringotts Wizarding Bank as a Curse-Breaker. Exciting overseas opportunities await!”
“That actually sounds pretty tempting,” Fanny said.
Anne nodded. “It does sound appealing. But they also require Arithmancy. That alone filters out most people, only about forty students take it each year.”
She set the pamphlet down and leaned lazily against the armchair. “What about you, Fanny? What are your plans after graduation?”
Fanny was thumbing through a pamphlet about the Ministry’s Muggle Liaison Office. “Same as you, inherit the family business.”
Anne snorted with laughter. “Judging by your tone, you don’t sound too thrilled about it.”
“It’s not that I dislike it,” Fanny said, closing the pamphlet and tossing it onto the growing pile. “It just seems a bit dull, that’s all.”
Anne leaned forward with interest. “Okay, then tell me, what does intrigue the mysterious Miss Fanny?”
Fanny relaxed into her chair, ticking off fingers as she spoke. “Nothing I’m especially passionate about, but I do enjoy drawing, designing patterns, Quidditch, clothes, accessories… things like that.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Well, look at that. You’ve got potential for freelancing in your future!”
“Freelancing?” Fanny asked, intrigued. “What’s that mean?”
“Ahem, basically just what it sounds like,” Anne said with a grin. “But enough of that. Actually, since you mentioned Quidditch, I just remembered a great opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“You love Quidditch but don’t want to be in the game, right? Well, Lee Jordan’s graduating after this term. You could try out as a Quidditch commentator!”
Fanny’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s an idea!”
“You should talk to Madam Hooch tomorrow. There are still two matches left this term, you could get a little practice in.”
“Mm, sounds good.” Fanny was about to stand up and prepare when she suddenly sat back down, looking curiously at Anne. “Actually, there’s one more thing I’m really interested in.”
“Oh?”
“You and Hermione,” she said with a mischievous look. “Lately I’ve noticed she smiles at you a lot. And you smile back.”
“Ahem, ” Anne gave an awkward little cough. “Was it that obvious?”
“Not really. But I noticed,” Fanny said proudly.
Anne's gaze drifted, one hand propping up her chin. She looked a little lost in thought. “It’s just… I’ve been having some ideas.”
“Oooh, do tell! I love giving emotional advice to emotionally clueless Anne,” Fanny teased, leaning in with a gleam of gossip in her eyes.
Anne rolled her eyes and slouched back into the chair.
“They’re bold ideas,” she said, her gaze distant. “But I think I need the right moment. I’m not entirely sure yet…”
“Sure about what? It’s just feelings, why overthink it?” Fanny said.
“It’s not just feelings,” Anne replied. A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought of someone. “It’s about what comes after, too.”
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Anne’s career consultation on Wednesday took less than two minutes. She emerged from Professor Snape’s office and rejoined Fanny in the corridor. They started upstairs toward the Great Hall for lunch.
But just as they turned the corner, they heard shouting and footsteps coming from the first floor above.
“What now?” Fanny said in a tone that suggested she was more amused than surprised.
Anne shrugged. “Guess we better go see.”
They hurried upstairs, rounded the corridor, and reached the Entrance Hall, only to find it packed. It was just as crowded and lively as the day Professor Trephina was dismissed.
Students had formed a large circle along the walls. Teachers and ghosts mingled among them. The most conspicuous were members of the Inquisitorial Squad. Malfoy and his lot looked ecstatic. Peeves the Poltergeist hovered overhead, staring gleefully at Fred and George Weasley, who stood in the middle of the hall with expressions of fearless defiance.
Anne and Fanny exchanged a glance and melted into the crowd.
“Well, well!” Umbridge stood before the twins, smug and triumphant. “You thought it would be funny to turn an entire corridor into a swamp, did you?”
“Extremely funny, yes,” Fred said, looking at her without a trace of fear.
Filch pushed his way through the crowd to stand beside Umbridge, nearly crying with joy.
“I’ve got it, Headmistress!” he croaked, waving a parchment. “Authorization for whipping, and the whips are ready too. Oh, please let me at ’em now!”
“Excellent, Argus,” said Umbridge. Turning to the twins, she added, “You two are about to learn what happens to troublemakers in my school.”
“Not likely,” Fred replied. “I don’t think we will.”
He turned to his twin.
“George,” he said, “I reckon we’ve outgrown full-time education.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” George agreed cheerfully.
“Time to test our talents in the real world, wouldn’t you say?”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
Before Umbridge could utter a word, both raised their wands and shouted:
“Accio brooms!”
A loud bang echoed in the distance.
Two broomsticks came zooming down the corridor, one of them dragging a heavy iron chain and padlock, the ones Umbridge had used to lock them up. They screeched to a halt in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the stone floor.
“We won’t be seeing you again,” Fred said to Professor Umbridge, swinging a leg over his broom.
“Yeah, don’t bother keeping in touch,” George added, mounting his own.
Fred glanced around at the silent, wide-eyed students. When he spotted Anne, he gave her a wink and a grin.
“If anyone’s interested in purchasing a Portable Swamp, like the one upstairs, just visit Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes at 93 Diagon Alley!” he shouted. “That’s our shop!”
“Hogwarts students who vow to use our products to chase off this old bat,” George said, pointing to Umbridge, “get a special discount.”
“Stop them!” Umbridge shrieked. But it was too late. The Inquisitorial Squad surged forward just as Fred and George kicked off and soared fifteen feet into the air, the padlocks swinging menacingly beneath their brooms.
Fred looked across the hall and saw Peeves hovering near the ceiling.
“Give her hell for us, Peeves.”
Peeves gave a dramatic salute with his funnel hat, and the students erupted into thunderous applause as the twins turned mid-air and shot out through the open front doors, into the golden sunset.
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“Wow, they really nailed that exit,” Fanny whispered to Anne over lunch.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were grumbling loudly nearby.
Anne gave them a glance and smirked. “Well, at least they helped take some pressure off these exams.”
In the following days, Fred and George’s escape to freedom was retold countless times. Within a week, even eyewitnesses started to believe they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge and throw dungbombs at her before zooming off.
Their departure sparked a wave of rebellious enthusiasm. “Honestly, sometimes I want to hop on my broomstick and fly out of this hellhole,” or, “One more class like that and I’ll become a Weasley.”
No one would forget Fred and George anytime soon.
For one, they hadn’t left instructions on how to remove the swamp now filling the entire east corridor of the sixth floor. Umbridge and Filch tried every method they could think of, nothing worked. Eventually, the area was roped off. Filch, teeth clenched in frustration, began ferrying students across in a rowboat.
Then there was the pair of broom-shaped holes in Umbridge’s office door, left by the twins’ brooms crashing through on their way to freedom. Filch had to install a new door.
Inspired by Fred and George, students now competed to fill the newly vacated role of Hogwarts' top troublemaker. Despite the new door, someone managed to sneak a Niffler, complete with a long, furry snout, into Umbridge’s office. It tore the place apart looking for shiny things, even leaping at her and trying to bite the rings off her stubby fingers.
Dungbombs and Stink Pellets became routine in the corridors. Students enchanted Bubble-Head Charms on themselves after class to breathe fresh air, though the effect made them look like they had goldfish bowls on their heads.
Filch stalked the halls, whip in hand, desperate to catch someone, but there were too many suspects. Even the Inquisitorial Squad couldn’t help. Anne once saw Malfoy hit square in the chest by a dungbomb just after breakfast and thanked her stars she hadn’t joined their group.
It also became quite clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes the twins had sold before leaving.
The moment Umbridge stepped into her classroom, students began fainting, vomiting, running high fevers, or spraying blood from their noses. She screamed in frustration, trying to identify the culprits, but students just claimed they had “Umbridge Syndrome.” After detentions failed to uncover anything, she was forced to let the afflicted leave her classes in groups.
Yet even the Skiving Snackbox users couldn’t match the chaos wrought by Peeves. He seemed to take Fred’s parting words to heart. Cackling madly, he flew around the school, toppling tables, leaping out of blackboards, knocking over statues and vases.
Twice, he locked Mrs. Norris in a suit of armor. Filch had to pry her out, still screeching with rage.
He smashed lanterns, snuffed out candles, juggled flaming torches over screaming students, threw parchment into fireplaces or out windows, and yanked out all the taps in the bathrooms, flooding the entire third floor. Once, he even tossed a sack of spiders into the middle of the Great Hall at breakfast.
Whenever he needed a break, he spent hours following Umbridge around, loudly mocking her every word.
Aside from Filch, it seemed none of the staff had much interest in helping Umbridge at all.
