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Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian: Ch. 307
🕑 Added 2024-12-10 18:42:48 +0000 UTCChapter 307: "Toads and Traditions"
The Great Hall blazed with its usual splendor as students filed in for the opening feast. Hundreds of candles floated beneath the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored a clear night sky studded with stars. The familiar warmth of Hogwarts wrapped around the students as they took their places at their respective tables, chattering excitedly about the year ahead.
Harry settled at the Ravenclaw table, his gaze drifting to the staff table. His eyes lingered briefly on Dolores Umbridge, who sat like a garish pink carbuncle amidst the otherwise dignified professors. Her sugary smile didn’t reach her calculating eyes, and Harry noticed how Professor McGonagall’s lips had all but disappeared into a thin line. That was never a good sign.
“She looks like someone tried to transfigure a toad and gave up halfway,” Roger whispered, earning stifled laughter from the surrounding Ravenclaws.
“Careful,” Reggy muttered, nudging him. “You’ll have the Ministry-loyal ones reporting you.”
The Sorting Hat’s song carried a darker tone this year, its lyrics warning of unity and vigilance in the face of brewing conflict. The hall fell quiet as the hat finished, and the sorting commenced with its usual pomp. While the younger students cheered for their new housemates, Harry’s attention flicked back to the staff table.
Hagrid’s absence was noticeable, and Harry assumed he was away on his mission to parley with the giants. That thought brought a flicker of curiosity—he wondered what it would be like to meet Hagrid’s half-brother.
At the same table, Lily Potter’s eyes sought him out, her expression a mix of hope and hesitation. But Harry, as always, ignored her, pretending not to notice. The only chance for mending their relationship was gone. If she and James wanted to follow Dumbledore blindly for the rest of their lives, so be it. He had long since accepted that their paths were separate.
His attention shifted to Dumbledore, who stood to signal the feast’s beginning. For the first time since their duel, Harry got a proper look at the headmaster. Dumbledore looked visibly older, his usual twinkle absent from his tired eyes. Between his ousting from the Wizengamot, the loss of his Elder Wand, and now the Ministry’s interference at Hogwarts, Dumbledore seemed to be bearing the weight of repeated defeats.
The sight improved Harry’s mood considerably.
When the feast began, the students fell into their usual rhythm of laughter and chatter. Platters of food appeared, and the air filled with the comforting smells of Hogwarts’ kitchens. The worries that had plagued them at the end of last year—whispers of dark forces returning—seemed a distant memory. Months of inactivity, the Ministry’s persistent denials, and the lack of any visible threat had lulled the school into a false sense of security.
Many students now dismissed Charles Potter’s account of Voldemort’s return as a figment of his imagination, a desperate bid for attention. The same peers who had cheered him as a hero now saw him as delusional, much to Charles’s visible discomfort. He sat quietly at the Gryffindor table, his mood somber, barely touching his food.
Harry observed his younger brother from afar, his expression unreadable. At least Charles didn’t have to face what Harry had endured in the canon timeline. There were no accusations of murder, no whispers of him being an attention-seeking liar. While Charles struggled with doubt and dismissal, Harry thought grimly, it could have been far worse.
After the main course had been cleared away and the hum of conversation filled the Hall, Dumbledore rose from his seat. The noise ceased almost immediately, as every student turned their attention to the headmaster.
“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” Dumbledore began, his tone as genial as ever. “First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.”
This drew a few chuckles from the older students, particularly those who had been caught testing the rule in past years.
“Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me—for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time—to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door.
“We have had several changes in staffing this year. First, we are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
There was polite but unenthusiastic applause. Harry noticed how Umbridge’s smile barely masked the smugness in her eyes, her expression dripping with condescension. Professor McGonagall’s lips had thinned to near invisibility, and Professor Sprout’s eyebrows were halfway to her hairline. Clearly, Umbridge’s presence was a sore spot for many of the staff.
“Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—”
“Hem, hem.”
The interruption cut through Dumbledore’s speech like a knife. He paused, his calm expression shifting as he turned toward Umbridge, who had risen from her seat. With a measured nod, he sat down, his sharp eyes fixed on her with a look of polite interest. Around the Hall, professors and students alike exchanged looks of surprise. No one interrupted Dumbledore—ever.
“Thank you, Headmaster,” simpered Umbridge, her voice as sweet and artificial as her smile. She cleared her throat again. “Hem, hem.”
Harry’s curiosity sharpened as she continued. “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She flashed a smile that revealed teeth far too pointed to seem friendly. “And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!”
Harry glanced around. Not a single face looked happy. Most students appeared taken aback, while others barely concealed smirks at being addressed as though they were toddlers.
“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” she chirped, eliciting exchanged glances and suppressed laughter among the students.
Umbridge’s tone shifted as she launched into a lecture about the Ministry’s commitment to education and the importance of preserving wizarding traditions. Harry’s attention began to drift. Around him, whispers and fidgeting grew as students quickly lost interest.
Enough of this. Under the table, Harry fingered his wand. He and Sirius had prepared a small enchantment for occasions just like this. With a subtle, nonverbal incantation, he activated the spell.
The first ribbit echoed through the Hall, loud and jarring, cutting across Umbridge’s speech. She frowned but pressed on. “The Ministry of Magic has always considered—” RIBBIT! “—education to be of vital—” CROAK!
The Hall erupted in barely suppressed laughter. Every time Umbridge tried to speak, her words were drowned out by increasingly loud amphibian sounds. Her face darkened as her voice climbed into a frustrated squeak.
“Hem, hem!” she tried again. “The Ministry ensures—” RIBBIT! “—that education is—” CROAK! “—guided by reason—” RIBBIT! “—not dangerous ideologies.”
By now, students were openly laughing, younger ones looking delighted as though they were watching a comedy show. Older students struggled to contain their mirth, their shoulders shaking. Even some of the professors were struggling to maintain their composure—Professor Flitwick was watching with keen interest, clearly appreciating the spellwork, and McGonagall’s lips twitched as though she were holding back a smile.
“This is—” RIBBIT! “—absolutely—” CROAK! “—intolerable!” Umbridge’s face turned crimson, the pink of her cardigan clashing horribly with her fury.
A final, booming RRRIBBIT! echoed throughout the Hall as Umbridge stormed away from the staff table, her frilly pink robes fluttering behind her like a defeated flag. Laughter followed her retreat, filling the Hall with glee.
Without missing a beat, Dumbledore rose again, his calm expression unshaken. “Well,” he said, as though nothing had happened, “I believe it is time for the Hogwarts song.”
The students roared their approval, and the Hall burst into a lively, if chaotic, rendition of the school anthem. As the last notes faded, Dumbledore clapped his hands.
“Off to bed, then. Sleep well, everyone!”
Roger snorted. “Magic, sure. I happened to notice a certain Head Boy looking bored and fiddling with his wand under the table.”
Of course Roger had noticed—Harry hadn’t exactly been subtle. For pranks like this, Harry no longer cared about hiding his involvement. In fact, not pulling pranks might draw more suspicion than doing so at this point.
Reggy stretched dramatically. “Who cares who did it? I’m just glad that speech is over. I was ready to pass out.”
Turning to Elvinia and the prefects gathered nearby, Harry clapped his hands lightly. “Let’s get to work. The sooner we help everyone to their dorms, the sooner we can all get some sleep.”
They nodded, their spirits still lifted from the evening’s entertainment. Under Harry and Elvinia’s direction, the prefects guided the first-years and other students to their respective dormitories with surprising efficiency. The usual nervous energy of the younger students was tempered by the cheerful atmosphere of the night.
As the shuffle of feet and hushed whispers faded behind locked doors, Harry and Elvinia conducted one final round of the castle. A pair of second-years lingering in a corridor were hurried along, a lost first-year received directions to their common room, and with that, the halls grew quiet. Hogwarts felt peaceful again.
Finally, Harry made his way to his new quarters. The Head Boy’s room was located in the east wing of the castle, just separate enough to offer privacy but close enough to the Head Girl’s chambers for coordination. The door was guarded by a portrait of a stern-looking wizard with a long, flowing beard.
“Password?” the portrait asked, his tone sharp as he examined Harry.
“Veritas vincit,” Harry replied. The portrait swung open, and Harry stepped inside.
He let out a low whistle. The Head Boy’s chambers were far more luxurious than he’d anticipated. On one side was a spacious study area, complete with a polished mahogany desk and neatly arranged shelves of advanced texts. On the other side stood a four-poster bed draped in Ravenclaw colors, along with a cozy armchair positioned beside a private fireplace. A large window overlooked the castle grounds, offering a stunning view of the moonlit lake shimmering silver in the night.
Harry’s lips curled into a small smile as he noticed his trunk had already been unpacked, his belongings neatly arranged on the shelves and desk. After years of sharing a dormitory, having a space entirely his own felt like a reward in itself.
“At least I’ll get some comfortable sleep this year,” he murmured, sinking into the armchair by the fire. The soft glow of the flames and the distant hoot of an owl outside were the perfect backdrop for his thoughts.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but Dolores Umbridge's inevitable fury wasn’t one Harry planned to lose sleep over. He allowed himself to revel in the satisfaction of a perfectly executed prank and the quiet thrill of a new term on the horizon.
Comments
Ryan
Excited to see the Umbridge prank-a-thon
