When The Quibbler was returned to Hufflepuff students, the one who had his magazine destroyed even received a full Galleon in compensation. He strutted proudly, using sixteen Sickles to buy snacks and shared them with everyone.
Punishment?
Detention?
Educational decrees posted on the notice board?
These intimidating, blustering threats now seemed meaningless.
If you weren't afraid of them, they couldn't hurt you.
Tonight's incident may have seemed trivial—a few students confronting someone who claimed to be a "professor"—but the impact, and the speed at which it spread, far exceeded what Umbridge expected.
By the next day, Gryffindors had collectively stopped attending her class.
They roamed the library and the lawns freely, heads held high.
Hufflepuffs hesitated at first, but with Gryffindor's encouragement, they too began skipping the pink toad's lessons—choosing to hide in dorms, the kitchens, or even bugging Professor Sprout to give them detention instead. And wasn't that better?
Ravenclaws acted swiftly. Seeing Gryffindors absent without consequence, they too stopped going. During class time, they gathered in their common room to quietly study or spar in dueling under the supervision of upperclassmen.
Within a single day, only Slytherins still attended Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Umbridge was livid.
At dinner, she grabbed a third-year Hufflepuff. "Why didn't you come to class today?!"
The student shrank into his shoulders, too afraid to speak. Despite his decision, his nature as a child and a student made him instinctively fear the pink toad before him.
"Hufflepuff loses points! One hundred points!" she shrieked, gripping his collar. "And detention! All of you—"
The third-year took a deep breath and shouted, "Does Mr. Potter know?!"
Umbridge froze.
The Hufflepuff shook off her grip. "Mr. Potter doesn't allow you to have any power at Hogwarts. You have no authority!"
He turned and cried out, "Mr. Diggory! Madam Umbridge is bullying me!"
Cedric rushed over, serious-faced, wand drawn. "Madam Umbridge, do not lay hands on Hufflepuff students again."
Without waiting for her reply, he gently shielded his classmate and led him away, like guarding against some dark cult priest about to harm a young wizard—although no priest had ever looked like that.
Umbridge gritted her teeth.
Too much!
This was too much!
She turned and marched to Professor Sprout, relaying the day's events in detail. Then, waving her stubby arms, she concluded sternly, "Professor Sprout, this situation—"
"Thank you for the heads-up, Umbridge. I'll look into it," Sprout said, clearly brushing her off. "Now if you'll excuse me—"
Umbridge interrupted dramatically, "Look into it?! I've told you—they're irredeemable and must be punished harshly!"
Sprout's face turned cold. "I'm not stopping you from punishing them, Professor—Umbridge. If my students have done wrong, I won't defend them. Exercise your authority."
Umbridge clenched her fists.
If only it were that simple…
But the problem was—no one was backing her anymore. Her word alone meant nothing.
"Please move," Sprout said, trying to brush past.
Umbridge backed down slightly. "Of course I want to, but they're using Mr. Potter to threaten me. I won't—"
"Mr. Potter?" Sprout feigned surprise. "He's a Gryffindor. I'm head of Hufflepuff, Madam Umbridge. You've come to the wrong person. Go talk to Minerva."
"That's enough. You've wasted enough of my time. Move aside."
She pushed past and walked away stiffly.
Umbridge stood stunned, staring at the retreating back.
What happened?
Wasn't Sprout supposed to be the softest Head of House? Why was she so tough?
Still refusing to give up, Umbridge stormed off toward Professor McGonagall's office.
McGonagall was teaching.
Umbridge barged in uninvited. "Professor McGonagall—!"
McGonagall turned, displeased. "Professor Umbridge, I am in the middle of class. Can this wait?"
"No. This is urgent," Umbridge insisted.
McGonagall flicked her wand. An unused desk grew legs, trotted over to Umbridge, shrank, then grew again and ran her out of the room. "No. Nothing is more important than teaching students. Especially if it involves you."
She shut the door with a flick and continued her lesson.
When class ended, McGonagall let the fuming Umbridge in. "Now, what could be so important you had to interrupt my lesson?"
"It's about Mr. Potter," Umbridge blurted. "He's interfering with my legitimate authority as a professor."
"I hope you'll—"
McGonagall waved dismissively. "Fine, fine. Gryffindor loses one hundred points."
The deduction meant nothing. Umbridge had already stripped Gryffindor of nearly all their points. They were more than 300 points in the negative—if the hourglasses could show negatives, Gryffindor's would be overflowing.
"No, not just points! Detention too!" Umbridge protested.
McGonagall calmly replied, "As I told you before, Madam Umbridge—I've always been assigning Harry detention."
"Then hand him over to me. Let me—" Umbridge's tone sharpened.
McGonagall's patience wore thin. "We've had this conversation. If you want to punish Harry, speak to him. Don't bother me again."
"Dumbledore's vanished. Harry is still just a student. I have to run this school. I don't have time for your whining."
She curtly waved her wand and booted Umbridge out again.
SLAM!
The door shut loudly behind her.
After being snubbed by two professors in a row, Umbridge returned to her office, frowning in thought.
If the professors were a dead end…
Then what about the students?
Soon, she smiled smugly. These kids were no match for her political maneuvering. She quickly summoned the Slytherin prefect.
Draco Malfoy had not had it easy lately. Since publicly breaking with his family, he'd lost all financial support. Thankfully, living at Hogwarts didn't cost much—but refusing to become a Death Eater had made survival even harder.
Voldemort had returned.
But he hadn't gained widespread support.
His loss to Potter—and the loss of his own arm—had shaken the confidence of many pureblood families. Could Voldemort even match Potter and Dumbledore together?
Privately, some families still sent supplies out of obligation—because of the Mark burned on their arms.
But publicly, their children needed to distance themselves from Death Eaters. Unlike Dumbledore, Potter was not one to tolerate wavering loyalties—they feared retaliation.
Lucius Malfoy was a known Death Eater.
And so, Draco became the target—bullied by both sides. Those loyal to Voldemort struck him hardest out of disdain.
Fights broke out daily in Slytherin.
Draco had banded together with other outcasts to fight back.
As their leader, he often suffered the worst injuries.
"Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge said sweetly, "how wonderful to see you here."
Draco stared coldly. "Professor Umbridge. What do you want?"
She flicked her wand and poured him tea. "Something important. Perhaps you've heard—there's a rising group of disobedient students. Even the professors coddle them. It's terrible for discipline."
"In a few days, the Ministry will pass a new decree—reviewing all professors."
"As Senior Inquisitor, I'll have authority to decide who stays and who goes."
"Of course—"
"I can't manage this alone. Dumbledore is gone. We must remove the troublemakers—"
"You want me to help you get rid of the professors? Or Potter?" Draco stood, staring her down.
Umbridge nodded. "Only when the unstable elements are gone can we—"
"No." Draco's voice was ice. "I don't like Dumbledore. I hate Potter. But I know this—without Dumbledore, the only reason Hogwarts is still safe is Potter."
"I won't underestimate him, nor help you drive him away."
Umbridge slammed the table. "You're a Slytherin prefect! Hasn't Slytherin always—"
"Maybe they support you," Draco sneered. "But I don't."
"If you want a clear answer—then as Slytherin prefect, I refuse your request. I, and those I represent, say no."
He fumbled with his prefect badge, finally pinning it proudly to his chest.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates