days at Hogwarts

Chapter 573 Umbridge's Investigation

The long-absent sunlight poured into the auditorium through the skylight, illuminating the entire hall. Steam rose from the vegetable soup and hot milk, exuding a warm atmosphere. The irritability of Monday morning was cured by the bright morning light, and the early-rising students couldn't help but squint their eyes.

The first weekend of school went by smoothly. Except for the fifth-grade students whose fingers were sore from the massive amount of homework, the little wizards from other grades seemed to have adapted to school life and were happily discussing the new week's courses and life.

"The Care of Magical Creatures class is really interesting and much more fun than I imagined. I really don't understand why the fourth graders advise us not to choose this course!" A third grade little wizard said excitedly, and the classmates next to him chattered in response.

Ginny, a fourth-year student next to her, was unmoved and expressionless, and even felt that the oatmeal in her hand was a little hot.

Merlin knew what they had gone through when they were choosing their courses, and he consulted Harry, his four brothers, and Hermione, and the feedback he got was that the Care of Magical Creatures course was optional, and that Professor Hagrid had reformed and become reliable.

As a result, in last year's Care of Magical Creatures class, they fed blasting-tailed skrewts for an entire semester, and many of their friends who followed them to choose the course said they felt cheated.

Sitting near the guest of honor seat at the Gryffindor table, Hermione spread the bread slice on her left hand, picked up the spoon for spreading jam with her right hand, and poked Loren next to her with her elbow: "Pass me the strawberry jam..."

"Shh..." Loren then handed over the bread with jam in his hand, without turning his head, and whispered in a low voice, "The strawberry jam is too far away, try the orange marmalade."

Hermione looked at the bread in her hand, tilted her head, followed his line of sight to the main guest seat, and found that Headmaster Dumbledore, who was rarely seen, was sitting in the middle seat, and the pink toad Umbridge was chatting with him next to him.

An expression of calmness and disapproval.

One grinned and tried his best to persuade.

Hermione was silent for a moment, lowered her head and took a bite of bread, then silently pricked up her ears and turned her attention to the guest of honor seat.

The sliced ​​bread, still warm, exudes a rich wheat aroma. Now is the best time to eat it, but the taste is a bit bland. Most people like to spread it with various jams and put it into their mouths. Dumbledore, who has always been sweet-loving, prefers the original flavor of bread. When he takes a bite and chews it carefully, he can taste a light and unique sweetness.

"Principal Dumbledore, the Ministry of Magic is trying to find out the dark wizards who are hiding their identities, and it is also for the safety of the students..."

A disgusting voice sounded from beside him. Dumbledore sighed imperceptibly, pinched the bread in his hand, and glanced at the honey jar on the right: "I really can't understand, Ms. Umbridge, what does the investigation of the identity of dark wizards have to do with my professors?"

"Oh, just call me Dolores, Headmaster Dumbledore, don't worry, it's not that we don't trust the professors, we just want to check all possible clues." Umbridge handed over the honey jar, her voice pinched in her throat, smoother than syrup, "I assure you that I will never interfere with normal teaching, nor will I miss the Defense Against the Dark Arts course."

"How are you going to investigate?" Dumbledore scooped out a spoonful of honey and slowly spread it on the bread slice, covering it evenly without any leaks, it was perfect.

"As an investigator, I will review the professors' performance through personal interviews, classroom observations, and student visits. The review results will be evaluated by the Ministry of Magic's dark wizard research experts and senior Aurors before deciding whether to conduct an in-depth investigation. Finally, I will refer to various evidences and make a comprehensive assessment of whether they are suspicious..."

Umbridge's speech speed became faster and faster, and her voice became higher and higher. She didn't mind the increasingly solemn expressions of the other professors beside her. "Oh, of course, we will not bypass the principal's office and the board of directors to implement any sanctions, dismissals, suspension of teaching and other punishment measures..."

Dumbledore didn't say anything. As an old man, he could certainly hear the subtext of this sentence. Although Umbridge did not have the power to directly interfere in school affairs, she could join forces with the board of directors to put pressure on the school.

Putting down the spoon covered with honey, he turned the bread in his hand and said softly, "Ms. Umbridge, I need to correct one thing... The school board has no right to interfere with the normal teaching of the school."

Umbridge's smile froze for a moment, but she quickly recovered and responded with a low laugh: "Of course, no matter what the investigation results are, our Ministry of Magic will respect the school's opinion."

"Then I'll leave it to you, Ms. Umbridge. You'd better give me the results before Halloween." Dumbledore took a bite of the bread, and the sweet aroma of honey spread in his mouth, making his mouth water.

"I promise!"

……

Black Monday, the fifth-year wizards of Gryffindor spread this name privately, because today's classes were particularly bad, from the History of Magic and Potions in the morning to Divination and Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon...

Divination class, North Tower classroom.

"Dream diaries have become something we all worry about every morning in our dormitory. Either we sleep so soundly at night that we don't dream at all, or we dream but forget about the dream after getting up and going to the bathroom." Dean complained with a melancholy look on his face, and the little wizards next to him expressed their agreement.

"My memory is bad to begin with. I can't remember anything in my dreams." Neville nodded, also with a sad face. "Last Monday night, before going to bed, I kept thinking about remembering what I dreamed about. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't sleep. The more I couldn't sleep, the more anxious I became. As a result, I suffered from insomnia."

Seamus sighed, "You can still refer to each other's homework for other subjects, but you can't even copy a dream diary. Two people won't have the same dream, right?"

Loren hesitated for a moment and said, "It's not impossible..."

But his voice was too soft and was drowned out by the noise of conversation and laughter.

Harry and Ron next to them were not worried about their homework. With the help of an expert, they found an extremely boring fable book on the most remote bookshelf in the library. They could make up a month's dream in just one day.

There is basically no risk of exposure. Judging from the dust on the book, no one has flipped through it for at least fifty years.

"Who would have thought that, after only one week at school, Umbridge would surpass Snape and become the most hated professor among Gryffindor students..." Ron muttered to himself.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly; to him, the friendliest professor was a deranged ghost.

Surprisingly, they didn't have to wait until the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to see Umbridge.

"Hello, students..." Professor Trelawney was walking around distributing the Dream Interpretation Guide, and said in her usual ethereal voice, "Today we continue to study prophetic dreams..."

In the dim Divination classroom, the young wizards were about to take out the dream diaries they had racked their brains to make up, when suddenly they heard a clear clicking sound. Everyone looked towards the podium and saw a short, fat pink toad crawling out of the trap door on the floor. Seeing Umbridge, the students who were talking and laughing suddenly fell silent. Professor Trelawney heard the voices in the classroom suddenly become lower and looked back.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney."

Umbridge put on a disgusting smile, "I believe you must have received the notice? Professor McGonagall just sent it this morning..."

Professor Trelawney did not respond to her. She just nodded sternly, frowned unhappily, turned her back to Umbridge, and continued to distribute textbooks, with every move she made, very much like a prophet.

Umbridge licked her face and smiled, not caring at all. She grabbed an armchair, pulled it to the front of the classroom, and sat down a few inches behind the desk. She took out a writing board from her fancy bag, raised her head expectantly, and waited for the class to begin.

Professor Trelawney tightened the shawl wrapped around him, cleared his throat, and scanned the class through his black-framed glasses: "Today we continue to study prophetic dreams. The relevant theoretical knowledge has been explained in detail in the last class. Now, please divide into groups of two and explain to each other the scenes you have seen in your recent dreams with the help of the Dream Interpretation Guide."

Loren saw that her hands were shaking slightly. The prophet professor was not as calm as she appeared.

According to her usual habit, she should go back to her seat, facing the fireplace with her back to her classmates to highlight the mysterious atmosphere of Divination, but Trelawney turned around and saw Umbridge sitting next to her, so she gave up this plan and began to pace slowly in the classroom, pretending to look around the classroom.

Loren and Neville, who sat at the same table, looked at each other, opened the "Dream Interpretation Guide" on the table, and absent-mindedly flipped through each other's dream diaries, secretly watching Umbridge and seeing him writing and drawing on the writing board, recording something.

A few minutes later, Umbridge stood up and began to follow Professor Trelawney. The two of them walked around the classroom together, listening to Trelawney's conversation with his classmates and asking a question or two from time to time.

The little wizards pretended to look through the books and diaries in their hands, but their minds were all on the conversation between the two.

"Excuse me, Professor Trelawney, how long have you been in this position?" Umbridge asked casually. "Can you give me the exact time?"

Professor Trelawney stared at her through his black-rimmed glasses. His magnified eyes looked scary. He crossed his arms in front of him and said with a hint of anger in his voice, "Almost sixteen years."

"It's been quite a while..." Umbridge wrote on the clipboard, "Did Professor Dumbledore interview you personally?"

"That's right!" Professor Trelawney raised his neck, as if he was proud of it. "I made a prophecy in front of him. I can say that this is the greatest prophecy in the past hundred years, no doubt about it!"

Umbridge raised her eyebrows and made a few more notes. She was not interested in the prophecy she was talking about, and continued to ask, "According to the records in the archives, you are the great-great-granddaughter of the famous prophet Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding his head a little higher.

Umbridge smiled. "But I remember clearly that no one else in your family has the gift of prophecy. If what you said is true, then since Cassandra, you are the only one in your family with a second sight? That is what you call the third eye. If I am wrong, you can correct me."

Trelawney's face changed. Although Umbridge did not say it explicitly, she understood that this was questioning her talent for prophecy.

"It is very common for Tianmu to be inherited from one generation to the next. It can happen three or even more than ten generations apart."

Loren looked up at Trelawney's eyes. He was also a little curious about what the third eye was. He knew that the professor did have an uncontrollable gift of prophecy, but he was skeptical about her so-called third eye. At least in his magical vision, the slightly protruding black eyes were nothing special except for a little more white.

However, this kind of thing is difficult to verify. There are very few wizards in the entire magical world who truly master the art of prophecy. The last one who publicly stated that he could see the future was Gellert Grindelwald.

"is it?"

In the middle of the classroom, in front of all the students, Umbridge drew out her voice, with no disguising her doubts in it, and her toad-like mouth opened wider, as if to announce her sarcasm and ridicule.

Just when Trelawney wanted to say something else, she changed the subject: "I remember. So, can you predict something for me... or tell fortunes?"

Professor Trelawney tensed slightly, pulled the shawl around his thin neck, and said calmly, "I don't understand you."

"I say..." Umbridge spoke clearly, one word after another, and each word hit Trelawney's heart, "I hope you can make a prophecy for me."

Most of the students in the classroom held their textbooks upright, huddled behind the pages, and secretly observed the two professors.

Professor Trelawney frowned, her body trembling with anger, her beads and bracelets jingling non-stop, and she said sharply: "The Third Eye will not see on command!"

"understood."

Umbridge said lightly, and made a few more notes on the clipboard.

"Wait a minute!"

Professor Trelawney's throat tightened, and he spoke in his usual disembodied voice, but because he was shaking with anger, his slightly hurried tone and broken voice destroyed the mysterious effect: "I... I think I did see something... about you... Ah, I felt something... something black... something extremely dangerous... You will be swallowed up by danger!"

Umbridge still had that amiable smile on her face, and her eyebrows raised: "You misunderstood, I don't want to know about this prophecy."

"You! You!" Trelawney pointed at Umbridge with a trembling finger.

Umbridge pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket. It had a picture of a blond boy on it. "This is the clue I'm looking for. Can you see anything valuable from this portrait?"

(End of this chapter)