A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Umbridge had never expected the Niffler she was chasing to have valuable defensive items. She had only heard about similar products being developed by "Future World" and the Ministry recently ordered a batch. It suddenly dawned on her - 'Future World' and Felix Harp were somehow connected.

Looking around and finding no one nearby, Umbridge spotted the Niffler standing foolishly, waving a small stick at her. With determination, she approached.

Her wide smile and sweet tone asked, "Aren't you a cute little thing… Can I hold you?"

Valen shivered, waving the stick, backing away.

Umbridge's dark shadow loomed over Valen, cornering it against the wall. She smirked, but the moment she saw the stick in the Niffler's hand glow in the darkness, a sense of familiarity struck her. Just as she connected it to Fawkes, a powerful whirlwind emerged, lifting her into the air.

The gemstones on the wand, designated as 'handle with caution' by a great wizard, glowed brighter. The wind intensified, forming a strong vortex that howled like a knife, snowflakes dancing within it. Umbridge, trapped in the freezing gale, screamed.

Valen, watching Umbridge's distress, worried about causing trouble, hurriedly darted away, intending to report to the powerful wizard.

"Boom!"

Umbridge crashed from mid-air, her face covered in bloodied scratches, torn clothes, and her gray-brown hair disheveled, resembling a hornet's nest.

Shaking with anger, she struggled to her feet. The fear of that person, buried deep within her, resurfaced. Letting the Niffler cast magic was beyond her comprehension. The humiliation and shock clashed within her.

After a while, she hastily healed her wounds with some poor healing spells, then swiftly departed. In the corridor, she found Mafalda distributing newspapers to a group of six or seven young wizards.

"Remember, emphasize the first news item. A disturbed student has been sneaking into the girls' lavatory at night - stay cautious," Mafalda instructed. Two boys hugged each other in fear.

Mafalda eyed them, "It's the girls' lavatory, girls! It has nothing to do with you, understand?"

A frightened girl asked, "Who's the disturbed student?"

"The client didn't specify—uh, I mean, it's still under investigation. Keep an eye out," Mafalda corrected herself, encouraging them, "Do well, and I promise gifts next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Is there really someone causing trouble?" the scared girl asked.

"Of course, mostly subtle ads though. Did you see the second one, the love letter? Also, Professor Bubages hiring assistants? We've expanded our clientele to the professors! Someday, I'll interview Headmaster Dumbledore in his office…"

As Umbridge passed by, she halted, staring incredulously at Mafalda. Mafalda, enthusiastically speaking, suddenly noticed the young wizards looking past her shoulder. Turning, she found a large, chubby chin inches away.

Startled, Mafalda stared at Umbridge, realizing she looked somewhat toad-like. She tried to dismiss it as an angle issue. Stepping back and reassessing, some thoughts once formed couldn't be erased.

"I've seen you, you're from the Ministry. What do you want?" Umbridge grinned, causing pain to her wounds, "Hmph, little girl, I heard what you said earlier. You're the editor of the Quibbler?"

"Are you buying a newspaper?" Mafalda interrupted.

Umbridge stared with bulging eyes, asking, "How much?"

"Three Knuts each. But two is a better deal, only five Knuts, half the price of The Prophet," Mafalda pitched skillfully, "Even Valen here is my loyal reader."

"The Niffler?" Umbridge stared, and suddenly shrieked.

Far away, Felix, carrying Valen towards the kitchen, perked up. Was that woman?

"Ack! (It's that woman!)"

A few minutes earlier -

Valen, passing through the entrance hall, glanced into the Great Hall, didn't see Felix, turned back, and bumped into Felix who had suddenly appeared. Valen immediately whined, "Uh, uh, I know, she's really bad." Felix let it ramble, occasionally agreeing.

"Let's go to the kitchen for something to eat. Grilled fish? Cake? I just figured out a technique—how to infuse emotions into food. Do you want to try a caramel pudding that can make people cry? Oh, not your taste? That's fine, we can try something else…"

They headed downstairs from the entrance hall. At that moment, Mafalda was leading her group downstairs. Soon, an exaggerated scream echoed.

Felix frowned, wondering what Umbridge was up to.

---

February brought not just warming weather but also the lingering Valentine's Day. Students were excited, especially with the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend coinciding with Valentine's.

"Just one more week until the festivities!" a Ravenclaw girl announced during breakfast, displaying a beautiful bow, "I'm going to put it up at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop." Across the table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat, devoid of the festive joy.

"They're leaving tomorrow," Harry murmured, glancing towards the Ministry group seated at the Slytherin table, Umbridge and a young man named Avery maintaining distance.

"They look guilty as sin," Ron remarked.

"Will they strike on the last day or after lights out?" He speculated, "Mad-Eye mentioned they might be here to steal something, and midnight is the best time. Like Cho, she was on a night raid…"

"At least they won't have much chance in the day," Hermione said, "Did you bring the map, Harry?"

"I did," Harry whispered. While sipping porridge, he retrieved a piece of parchment from his pocket, "Extra eyes are always good," he said. Moody's map was missing a few people, but Harry didn't mention it, avoiding an argument.

"It's actually three pairs of eyes," Ron corrected, grinning.

"It's a whole front-line lookout, Harry," Hermione chastised, "Your notes on 'Surveillance and Counter-Surveillance' you handed out last time—I know what you're planning."

Harry seemed uneasy, "It's the best way, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed, "Have you noticed you're starting to sound like Dumbledore?"

Harry stared at her, speechless.

"You often complain about adults keeping things from you, not telling you everything. Now you're doing the same to the club members—"

"It's for their own good! To prevent leaks! And, the fewer people who know about that thing, the better." Harry stuttered, then froze.

Could that be the reason?

The way Dumbledore, Hagrid, even Moody, Kingsley treated him compared to how he treated Neville, Luna, or Simon… were they the same? Harry pondered. A voice inside him said, I'm different from them. But then, where? I can't stand aside; others might give up, but not me. Even if Voldemort's forces were ten or a hundred times

stronger, even if he defeated everyone and ruled the magical world, as long as I'm alive, I'll stand against him.

Harry believed that wholeheartedly.

He saw Neville and Hannah walking past, knowing they were headed to Herbology together. Harry watched Neville, his face no longer round like in first year but defined, and if something extremely dangerous happened, Harry felt he might refuse others but not Neville. He knew Neville's attitude towards Voldemort and Death Eaters was akin to his...

Suddenly, Hermione glanced sarcastically at the table opposite, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? Acts like a helpful senior." Harry and Ron looked over; Chesteron Avery was chatting with a group of Slytherins, faint words like 'prefect' and 'authority' floated over. Pansy listened attentively, eager, oblivious to the cold-faced Draco Malfoy sitting beside her.

Harry sensed intense disgust from Draco's gaze.

"Is he trying to get closer to Malfoy again?" Hermione asked softly, "Didn't the articles work?"

"As long as Malfoy's smart, he won't give him a chance," Harry affirmed. Throughout breakfast, they occasionally glanced towards the Slytherin table. Eventually, the Slytherins started leaving; Malfoy decisively put down his cutlery and left, dragging Crabbe and Goyle, despite their protest about leaving food on their plates.

"See?" Harry said.

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