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HP Chapter 114: Confrontation
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 17:23:56 +0000 UTCAnne muttered in her head about how boring the class and the teacher were. She flipped her Defensive Magical Theory book to page five, read a few lines, and quickly zoned out.
A few minutes passed. The classroom was dead silent, but it was obvious that most students weren’t really paying attention.
Snapping out of her daze, Anne glanced around. Next to her, Fanny was resting her chin on her hand, staring blankly ahead, clearly just as disengaged. A bit further to the right, where the Gryffindors sat, something suddenly jolted Anne wide awake.
Hermione, sitting in front and slightly to the right of Anne, hadn’t even opened her Defensive Magical Theory book. She was staring directly at Professor Umbridge with her hand raised high in the air.
What is she trying to do?
Unfortunately, Anne couldn’t see Hermione’s full face, just her profile. If she could, she might have tried to mouth a question at her.
Anne looked subtly up at Professor Umbridge. Umbridge, in contrast to Hermione’s unwavering gaze, was pointedly looking in the opposite direction, towards the Slytherins.
Anne discreetly nudged Fanny with her elbow, signaling her to look right. Fanny’s eyes widened in surprise when she noticed Hermione’s raised hand. She looked at Anne in confusion, and Anne shook her head slightly, indicating she had no idea what was going on either.
A few more minutes passed. More than just Harry was now watching Hermione. The chapter they were supposed to be reading was dry and uninspiring; the class slowly shifted their attention from the textbook to the unusual standoff at the front.
Over half the class was now staring at Hermione instead of their books. Umbridge finally seemed to realize she could no longer ignore it.
“Dear, do you have a question about this chapter?” she asked Hermione sweetly, as if just noticing her.
“No, not about this chapter,” Hermione replied.
“Oh? Well, we’re reading right now,” Umbridge said, baring her small, sharp teeth in a forced smile. “If you have other questions, we can talk after class.”
“I have a question about your teaching objectives,” Hermione said.
Umbridge’s eyebrows lifted.
“And your name is?”
“Hermione Granger,” Hermione replied.
“Well then, Miss Granger, I think the course objectives are quite clearly written, if you take the time to read them from beginning to end,” Umbridge said in her unshakably sugary tone.
“But I don’t think so,” Hermione said frankly. “Not a single word mentions practicing defensive spells.”
A short silence followed. Many students turned to look again at the three course objectives still written on the blackboard.
“Practicing defensive spells?” Umbridge repeated softly, laughing. “Why, I can’t imagine a scenario where you’d need to use such spells in my classroom, Miss Granger. Surely you don’t expect to be attacked during lessons?”
“We can’t use magic at all?” Ron shouted.
“In my class, students must raise their hands to speak. And you are?”
“Weasley,” Ron said quickly, raising his hand belatedly.
Umbridge smiled even more sweetly, then turned away from him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands. Umbridge’s puffy eyes lingered on Harry before she turned to Hermione.
“Yes, Miss Granger? Another question?”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Isn’t the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to practice actual defensive spells?”
“Are you a Ministry-certified educational expert, Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked in a syrupy tone.
“No, but, ”
“Then I’m afraid you’re not qualified to determine what the ‘whole point’ of any course is. Our latest curriculum was designed by witches and wizards far older and wiser than yourself. You will learn about defensive spells in a safe, risk-free environment, ”
“What good is that?” Harry interrupted loudly. “If we’re attacked, it won’t be in a, ”
“Raise your hand, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said in a sing-song voice. Harry raised his hand high. She turned away from him again. More students started raising their hands.
“And your name?” Umbridge asked Dean.
“Dean Thomas.”
“Yes, Mr. Thomas?”
“Well, like Harry said,” Dean replied, “if we’re attacked, it’s not going to be risk-free, is it?”
“I’ll say it again,” Umbridge said, smiling infuriatingly at Dean, “do you think you’ll be attacked in my classroom?”
“No, but, ”
Umbridge cut him off. “I don’t want to criticize certain past teaching choices,” she said, smiling even more broadly, “but you’ve been exposed to a number of highly irresponsible instructors, let alone,” she added with a sharp laugh, “dangerous half-breeds.”
“If you’re talking about Professor Lupin,” Dean said heatedly, “he was the best teacher we’ve ever had, ”
“Raise your hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying, what you’ve been taught was too advanced, too dangerous for your age group. You’ve all been frightened into believing that Dark magic attacks are common, ”
“We’re not frightened,” Hermione said. “We just, ”
“You didn’t raise your hand, Miss Granger!”
Hermione raised her hand. Umbridge looked away again.
“I believe my predecessor not only demonstrated illegal spells but used them on students.”
“Well, he turned out to be insane, didn’t he?” Dean muttered. “Still, we learned a lot.”
“You didn’t raise your hand, Mr. Thomas!” Umbridge said in a trembling voice. “The Ministry believes that theoretical knowledge is the best way to prepare for exams. And exams, after all, are the true purpose of education. And you are?” she asked Pavarti, who had just raised her hand.
“Parvati Patil. Will there be no practical work at all in our DADA exams? Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually use counter-curses and spells?”
“As long as your theory is strong,” Umbridge said condescendingly, “you’ll have no trouble performing spells under strictly controlled conditions.”
“No practice beforehand?” Pavarti asked in disbelief. “You’re saying our first time casting the spells will be during the exam?”
“I repeat, if your theoretical knowledge is strong, ”
“What good is theory in the real world?” Harry demanded, raising his fist.
Umbridge looked up at him.
“This is a school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,” she said softly.
“Then we don’t need to be prepared for what’s out there?”
“There is nothing out there, Mr. Potter.”
“Oh really?” Harry said.
“Who exactly do you think is out there, threatening children like yourselves?” Umbridge asked with mock-sweetness.
“Hmm, let me think... maybe... Voldemort?” Harry said.
Lavender Brown gave a small shriek. Neville fell off his bench. Most students gasped. But Umbridge didn’t flinch, she simply stared at Harry with a look of cruel satisfaction.
“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter.”
The room fell silent. Everyone was either staring at Umbridge or at Harry.
“Let’s clarify a few things,” Umbridge said, standing and leaning forward, her short fingers pressing into the desk.
“Someone told you a Dark wizard has returned, ”
“He didn’t return because he never died!” Harry said hotly. “But yes, he’s back!”
“You’ve already lost ten points. Don’t make it worse,” Umbridge snapped, still not looking at him. “As I was saying, this idea that a Dark wizard has returned is nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense!” Harry shouted. “I saw him! I fought him!”
“Detention, Mr. Potter!” Umbridge said smugly. “Tomorrow evening. Five o’clock. My office. And I’ll say it one more time: nonsense. The Ministry guarantees your safety. If you still have doubts, feel free to see me after class. If anyone frightens you with fairy tales about resurrected Dark wizards, I’d be happy to listen. I’m your friend. Now, back to page five, ‘Basic Principles.’”
She sat down behind her desk. Harry stood up.
“So you’re saying Cedric Diggory just dropped dead on his own?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Everyone gasped. No one besides Ron and Hermione had ever heard Harry talk about what happened that night.
Umbridge looked up, her fake smile gone. “Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident,” she said coldly.
“It was murder,” Harry said. He was shaking. “Voldemort killed him, and you know it.”
Umbridge’s face was blank. Then, in the sickliest sweet voice she could manage, she said, “Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.”
Harry kicked his chair aside, stormed past Ron and Hermione, fists clenched, fury written all over his face. Behind Anne, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were snickering quietly.
Umbridge pulled out a roll of pink parchment, laid it flat on her desk, dipped a quill into ink, and scribbled a note.
The room fell into silence again.
After a moment, she rolled up the parchment, tapped it with her wand, and it sealed shut.
“Be a dear and take this to Professor McGonagall,” Umbridge said sweetly, handing it to Harry.
He took it without a word, head held high, and left without looking at anyone, slamming the door behind him.
The classroom erupted in whispers. And this time, unlike before, even many Gryffindors didn’t seem entirely convinced by Harry’s words.
“He said he saw Cedric Diggory murdered?”
“He thinks he dueled You-Know-Who?”
“Is he serious?”
“Who’s he trying to fool?”
“Give me a break.”
Fanny frowned at the closed door. “What’s gotten into Harry? He’s so on edge. It’s like he’s a ticking time bomb.”
“Maybe something happened over the summer,” Anne said. “But directly confronting Umbridge like that won’t end well for them…”
“Quiet!” Umbridge called from the front. The class fell silent.
“Like I said,” she repeated with a bright smile, “the idea that a Dark wizard has returned is nonsense. If anyone tells you otherwise, come to me. I am your friend. Now, copy the key points from Chapter One, ‘Basic Principles.’”
She tapped the board with her wand, and notes appeared.
Umbridge droned on about theory until the bell rang.
Anne let out a sigh of relief, shut her book, and packed up. She was about to leave with Fanny for lunch when Umbridge’s sugary voice called out:
“Miss Reeve, would you stay behind for a moment?”
Everyone stopped and looked at Anne.
She froze, then looked at Umbridge questioningly.
Umbridge’s smile widened. “Yes, Miss Reeve. Please come up to the front. I have something important to discuss with you.”
Fanny looked at Anne in confusion, as did Hermione. Anne shook her head slightly to show she had no idea either. She whispered to Fanny, “You go ahead, save me something to eat.”
Fanny nodded. Anne slung her bag over her shoulder and walked up to the front.
“All right, dears, class is dismissed! Go enjoy your lunch,” Umbridge said with a saccharine smile.
Several students left the classroom, whispering and looking back as they went.
Once the room was empty, Umbridge waved her wand, and the door shut behind them.
Anne stood beside the podium, staring at the closed door. Her thoughts were racing.
What does Umbridge want with me?
