Cedric looked at Harry with earnest eyes.
He clearly understood what his words and actions meant.
But he neither hesitated nor regretted them.
"After dinner, then," Harry said with a small smile. "Coming with me?"
Cedric glanced toward his house table and shook his head. "I need to stay with my house. I'll meet you later."
Dinner passed quickly.
The four of them gathered at the foot of the grand staircase. Harry led the way as they headed toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office on the third floor—perhaps the place Harry knew best in all of Hogwarts.
Cedric stepped forward to knock.
"You're not here to negotiate," Harry said, shaking his head. He drew his wand and placed it against the lock.
Alohomora!
Click. He twisted the handle and shoved the door open hard.
"Who's there?" came a syrupy voice, startled and fearful. Umbridge, mid-letter, looked up in alarm. "Potter? Granger? What do you think you're doing?"
"And me," Cedric added, stepping in last.
Harry calmly twirled his wand. "We're here for something."
Umbridge was confused. "Something?"
Cedric answered, "The magazines you confiscated from Hufflepuff."
"The new educational decree!" Umbridge slammed the desk. "No one is allowed to possess that ridiculous—"
Hermione cut her off. "The magazine that exposes the ridiculous truth of your life."
Umbridge slammed the desk again but didn't dare direct her anger at Hermione—everyone knew her relationship with Harry.
"Thirty-seven in total," Cedric said, pulling out his wand, emphasizing the number. "You had no right to confiscate them, Madam Umbridge. Return them. You've already harmed the Hufflepuff students."
Umbridge trembled with rage.
Harry ignored her and raised his wand.
Accio!
With a loud clatter, a cardboard box shook, and in the blink of an eye, a thick stack of magazines flew onto the desk.
The cover showed a beaming Umbridge—
A sharp contrast to the twisted, furious face she wore in reality.
"Thirty-six," Harry counted, then looked up. "Missing one. Did you keep a copy for yourself, Madam Umbridge?"
Umbridge's eyes bulged.
Cedric awkwardly shook his head. "The number is correct. One was destroyed on the spot."
"Destroyed? Then compensation is required." Harry nodded and flicked his wand.
Bang!
A drawer shot open, slamming into Umbridge's stomach.
"No money," Harry noted, then flicked again.
A cupboard swung open, smacking her face with a crack.
He searched.
"Still no money."
Harry gave a final flick—her handbag flipped open, its contents clattering to the floor.
"Ah, here it is." A gold Galleon floated up and landed atop the stack. "This Galleon will serve as repayment."
Cedric cast a Levitation Charm, lifting the magazines, and slipped the Galleon into his pocket.
They turned to leave.
"Oh, and Madam Umbridge," Harry said, glancing back, "I heard you sentenced George, Fred, and that Hufflepuff to a month of detention?"
"Don't do that, okay?"
"You're not a professor. You have no right to assign detention."
He paused and said softly, "The professors always joke—they assign me detention, but in reality, it's me who puts them in detention."
"I wouldn't mind doing the same to someone like you—a threat to Hogwarts."
"Clear your head, Umbridge."
With that final remark, Harry disappeared from the doorframe.
Umbridge looked up—her forehead was bleeding where the cupboard struck her, blood running down her cheek. Her eyes burned with venom as she stared down the empty hallway.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts office was now like a cursed place—no one wanted to enter it. Even passing by felt unlucky.
She clenched her fists, ignoring her appearance. Wearing oversized pink cat slippers, she stormed toward Dumbledore's office.
Password. Stairs. Knock.
She burst in. "Professor Dumbledore!"
"Ah, what a surprise, Umbridge. Whatever happened to you?" Dumbledore was sipping honeyed water beside a dish of cockroach clusters—cursed so the bugs couldn't escape.
Ever since Fawkes pranked him, Dumbledore couldn't quit the candy. Since he couldn't stop the phoenix, he simply took extra care—picking out the edible ones one by one.
"It was your good student, Harry Potter!" Umbridge jabbed at her bleeding forehead. "Shouldn't someone like that be punished?"
Dumbledore calmly replied, "Is that so?"
"Professor Dumbledore!" Umbridge slammed her fists on the desk with a bang. "You must punish Potter!"
"That's Harry," Dumbledore corrected gently. "He rarely does wrong. Perhaps you misunderstand him."
"He violated the decree—he stole The Quibbler from me!" she snapped. "And not just him—Granger, Weasley, and Diggory too!"
"Diggory? Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff?" Dumbledore's eyes lit up.
"Yes, him!"
"It seems Harry is quite popular among the houses," Dumbledore murmured.
Umbridge's eyes widened. "What are you saying?"
"I never thought those decrees were any good, dear Umbridge. It's natural the students dislike them."
"They're Ministry orders!" she stressed.
Dumbledore said nothing.
Umbridge took a breath, trying to calm herself. "Dumbledore, are you protecting Potter?"
"Protecting?" Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head. "No, no. Harry always acts on his own and bears the consequences. He is Harry."
Umbridge glared, gripping the desk so hard she wanted to break it—though all she left were two greasy smudges.
"Well then, Madam Umbridge, it's late. Let this old man rest." Dumbledore flicked his wand, magically guiding her to the door. "Lately, I've been quite exhausted."
At the threshold, he paused.
"If you have any issues, speak to Harry."
"He is the heir of Gryffindor."
"In terms of ability and position, he may be more qualified than me to make decisions at Hogwarts."
Umbridge turned in astonishment, unsure what he meant.
Was he… backing Potter?
No—Potter needed no one's backing. He was someone others sought protection from.
Then was Dumbledore saying… Harry represented him entirely?
Umbridge descended the stairs, breathing heavily, body stiff.
In the office, Godric Gryffindor's portrait rose from the desk, where he had been pretending to sleep. After much pleading, Dumbledore had finally allowed the portrait a bit more freedom, though it was still limited to the headmaster's office.
"You're quite pleased with Harry, aren't you?"
"Of course," Dumbledore nodded, adjusting his glasses and wiping a tear from his eye. "Harry is much more extraordinary than I expected."
He looked at the portrait. "Sir Gryffindor, I thought you wouldn't understand."
"Of course I do. Why else would I want an heir?" Godric hovered before him, reclining in midair. "We all grow old. The future belongs to the young."
"I had it easier—Salazar may've been extreme, but at least he wasn't dark. You, however, met the wrong ones."
"Grindelwald. Riddle. I understand why you fear the next brilliant youth might also fall astray."
Dumbledore shook his head. He never considered Grindelwald his life's mistake.
"I believe Harry won't go astray. But I fear he might be forced onto that path. He's too brilliant—so far ahead of others. I feared he'd never find friends."
But then his sorrowful face lit up with a laugh. "But look at him—how marvelous."
"Umbridge has only been here a week. One week."
"And already, Hufflepuff stands with him. Hufflepuff, of all houses."
"I've let him handle these matters. Passed to him responsibilities meant for the future. Truthfully, I feared he'd grab the sword, storm the Ministry, and behead Umbridge and Slinkniss. It would be effective."
He paused, sighing. "But Harry… still cares about this old man's feelings."
"Relax. Harry's not the patient type," Godric smirked.
Dumbledore sipped his honey water sweetly. "But he has so many friends now. Even from Hufflepuff."
"I never had friends as dependable as Cedric."
His eyes dimmed briefly with memory.
Then he brightened again, stretching. "Sir Godric, you can't imagine how freeing it feels… to not worry like before."
"Let Harry handle this. I trust him completely."
"Perhaps we should take a trip. You've never seen Godric's Hollow, have you?"
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Powerstones?
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