Slytherin's prefect.
If Umbridge hadn't reminded him, Draco would've almost forgotten he still held that title.
Umbridge stared wide-eyed at Draco in disbelief.
What was happening?
Even Slytherin had abandoned her?
Draco adjusted his worn school robes and smiled politely at her. "Professor Umbridge, I hope you realize what you're doing."
With a nod of courtesy, he turned and walked out of the office. Just as he raised his hand to remove his prefect badge, his fingers brushed its cold edge—and stopped.
There was nothing wrong with wearing it.
He was still proud to be a Slytherin.
With that thought, he straightened his back and strode confidently toward the Slytherin common room.
That night, the fighting got even fiercer.
Madam Pomfrey nearly got hurt.
In retaliation, Umbridge issued two more educational decrees:
Decree No. 26: The High Inquisitor has the right to dismiss any professor deemed unqualified.
Decree No. 27: No gatherings of three or more students without prior approval by the High Inquisitor (including Quidditch teams).
However, her new orders were met with zero response.
No one cared.
Apart from the clueless Slytherin Quidditch team, who earnestly sought Umbridge's approval, the other three houses completely ignored her.
Even the professors...
Apart from Trelawney—who had a distant relationship with Harry and knew she wasn't particularly competent—not even Hagrid looked worried.
Then came Monday night.
Umbridge was in her office, relaxing with her cat in her arms, sorting through a spread of photos—portraits of the Hogwarts staff she'd collected from various magazines.
"Who should go this week?" she muttered, eyes narrowing as she studied Trelawney and Hagrid.
One was small and timid, with barely better student evaluations than herself.
The other was a half-giant—who she hadn't even realized was half-giant until recently.
They were her top two targets.
Just as she wavered between them—
Knock knock.
The knock surprised her. She'd grown used to the door being slammed open rather than knocked. Since her arrival, she'd received little respect—aside from the early days.
Knock knock—louder this time.
Only then did she realize it was an actual knock—someone was being polite.
"Come in," Umbridge said sweetly, clearing her throat. With a flick of her wand, the door opened.
A Slytherin student rushed in, flustered. "Professor Umbridge, something's wrong!"
"Potter and a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are gathered in the Great Hall!"
"More than three people!"
"All the first to fifth years are there!"
A gathering!
She had just issued a decree banning exactly this!
The word alone made her leap to her feet.
Those damn little wizards!
But then... "Potter"—the very first word—froze her in place.
"Potter's there?" she asked stiffly.
The Slytherin nodded.
She inhaled deeply and waved her hand. "I understand."
The student leaned in, concerned. "Aren't you going to stop them, Professor? I think even some Slytherins are there."
She glared at him. "I'll go later. I need to prepare."
"I'll wait here," the student offered, stepping into the room.
"No need!" she snapped, slamming the desk. "Go back. I know the way."
The Slytherin left, hurt and confused—he had meant well. Why was she so hostile?
It wasn't fair!
Umbridge took a deep breath and reached for her quill. She still had people in the Ministry who would back her.
—
In the Great Hall.
The long tables had been pushed aside. Students from all four houses filled the space.
"Malfoy?" Ron spotted the green robes. "What are you doing here?"
There were fewer Slytherins than any other house.
Even with all five years combined, only sixteen had come.
Malfoy ignored Ron, pulling out a bag of Galleons. "Umbridge's classes are pointless. Of course we want better education."
"You've accepted commissions from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Why not from Slytherin too?"
Ron glanced back at Harry.
Malfoy shook the bag. "Two Galleons per person—far more generous than the others."
He tossed it toward Ron.
Ron caught it midair with a flick of his wand.
"No problem," Harry said.
Malfoy breathed a small sigh of relief.
So did the other Slytherins—visibly.
They were used to being isolated. They feared being left out again.
But they weren't.
Harry stepped aside, leaving the platform to Neville. Neville had prepared diligently—asking Hermione, even consulting Professor McGonagall, who was surprised when she heard Harry wanted Neville to teach fifth years.
Neville was nervous, stumbling over his words, nearly biting his tongue several times.
But the information was useful. Harry sat quietly off to the side, scribbling on a roll of parchment. As long as Harry was there, no one dared complain.
Whether the students meant to be patient or not, the atmosphere gave Neville confidence.
He spoke more smoothly.
Stood straighter.
His teaching became clearer.
Forty-five minutes later, Neville's watch beeped. He let out a deep breath and clapped his hands. "Alright, first lesson's over. Ten-minute break. We'll resume with lesson two after."
He practically stomped off the platform in relief.
In the corner, even Crookshanks avoided the intimidating-looking cat who gave Neville an approving nod.
Apart from Neville tripping over nothing a few times, it had been a decent class.
Ten minutes passed.
Just as the second lesson was about to begin—
BANG!
The Great Hall doors burst open. Umbridge entered with a squad of Aurors. Leading the group was an all-too-familiar face—Rufus Scrimgeour.
Umbridge had never believed she needed support from Dumbledore, McGonagall, or Sprout. She had always remembered her most powerful identity—Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. The Ministry was her real backup.
She beamed with smug pride.
"Potter! Your little dream is over!" she shouted. "End this gathering now and beg for mercy!"
"You've violated far too many decrees!"
"And Miss Granger—step away from Mr. Potter! I've said before, the decree states that a healthy boy-girl relationship must maintain at least six inches of distance!"
All eyes turned to her.
Some noticed the Aurors and began to panic.
Cedric gripped his wand tightly.
Harry stood up and said nothing—just looked at Scrimgeour.
Umbridge followed his gaze and grew even more smug. "See, Potter? If you defy me now, you're defying the Ministry's war effort against the Death Eaters! You're obstructing—"
She didn't get to finish.
Scrimgeour holstered his wand and raised both hands. "No, Harry. I'm not here to oppose you."
Umbridge froze—her eyes practically popped out of her skull.
Wait…
Wasn't he here to back her up?
Why was he surrendering before Harry even said a word?
Scrimgeour didn't even look at her. "I'm just here to collect her corpse. I figure you don't want something this toxic rotting at Hogwarts."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I also have important matters to discuss with you and Dumbledore," Scrimgeour added seriously. "Very important. Trust me, Harry—I've always been your ally."
Harry nodded and gestured.
Scrimgeour stepped aside.
Harry slowly walked toward Umbridge.
The pink toad panicked. Alone, she tried to flee—
BOOM!
The doors slammed shut.
"You've gotten a bit full of yourself," Harry said calmly, staring at her. "Is it because you're Undersecretary at the Ministry?"
Umbridge almost blurted out: It's Senior Undersecretary!
"Or do you really believe the Ministry controls everything?" Harry continued.
"Or worse—do you foolishly think that using 'the fight against Death Eaters' as a shield will restrain me the way it restrains Dumbledore?"
He paused.
His gaze swept over Draco, Cedric, Goldstein, and Ron.
He smiled softly. "I didn't act before because the timing wasn't right."
"Thank you for coming now."
"Otherwise, I would've had to drag you here myself on Friday."
"Now then... let's vote."
Harry raised his wand, summoning a massive Hogwarts crest into the air above them.
It floated in the center of the hall, blank and colorless—awaiting a decision.
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Powerstones?
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