Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 611: The Ignored Umbridge

Sirius was taken away by the Ministry of Magic?

When Kyle first overheard the news, he thought it was some sort of joke. But as more fifth years joined the conversation, the truth of it became undeniable. Even the Gryffindor fifth years were buzzing about it, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn’t even come to the Great Hall for dinner.

Kyle turned to Susan Bones, the nearest fifth-year Hufflepuff, and asked, “Susan, did you say Professor Black was taken away by the Ministry of Magic?”

“Yes,” Susan replied, her expression grave. “Defense Against the Dark Arts was our last class this morning. Near the end of the lesson, some people from the Ministry suddenly walked in. The leader claimed someone had complained that Professor Black wasn’t fulfilling his duties as a teacher and that students had been injured in his class.”

“Oh, and Headmaster Dumbledore was there too.”

Kyle frowned, about to respond, when the doors to the Great Hall swung open with a sharp creak.

Dumbledore entered, his expression uncharacteristically serious. Behind him, a witch in a pink cardigan followed, her saccharine smile starkly out of place. Trailing behind them, Ron and Hermione struggled to restrain an irate Harry, pulling him toward the Gryffindor table as he attempted to storm toward the headmaster.

Most students barely noticed Harry’s outburst, their attention fixed instead on Dumbledore and the woman beside him. The whispers grew louder, filling the hall with speculation.

Reaching the staff table, Dumbledore turned to face the room. Raising a hand, he said in his calm, commanding tone, “I must ask for your attention. Before you enjoy your meal, I need to take a moment to announce two important matters.”

The Great Hall fell silent.

Dumbledore continued, “First, regarding Professor Black, he has been asked to cooperate with the Ministry of Magic in an investigation. During this time, he will not be able to teach you.”

A ripple of murmurs swept the room before Dumbledore raised a finger and gestured to the woman beside him.

“However,” he said, “during his absence, Professor Umbridge will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by hesitant applause—most of it coming from the Slytherin table.

“They’re talking rubbish!” Harry shouted, rising from his seat, his face flushed with anger.

Before he could say more, Hermione and Ron pulled him back down, whispering furiously at him to stay quiet.

Dumbledore, maintaining his composure, pretended not to notice Harry’s outburst. However, Umbridge turned her head toward Harry, her lips curling into a saccharine smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” she said in her high-pitched, grating voice, stepping forward as Dumbledore graciously ceded the spotlight.

Clearing her throat, she addressed the room in her shrill tone. “It is truly wonderful to be back at Hogwarts!”

“Oh, her voice is unbearable,” Cedric muttered, rubbing his arms as though trying to shake off a chill. “And that pink cardigan—why does she have to wear something so... fluffy? It’s hideous.”

“Personal preference,” Kyle said with a resigned sigh. “She was dressed the same way when I saw her at the Ministry.”

“You’ve met her before?” Cedric asked. “What’s she like? Do you think she’ll be a good teacher?”

Kyle considered the question for a moment before replying, “Let’s just say... even Quirrell and Lockhart were better professors than her.”

Cedric groaned. “Seriously? I can’t imagine anyone being worse than those two. That would be like having a Troll with its head stuck in a door.”

Kyle sighed again, his thoughts clouded with frustration.

He had anticipated that Sirius might leave before the end of the school year, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Less than two weeks into term, and Sirius was already gone.

From her seat at the front of the Great Hall, Professor Umbridge spoke in her monotonous, emotionless tone:

“The Ministry of Magic has always believed that the education of young witches and wizards is a critical matter requiring careful cultivation and the application of your precious talents...”

Gradually, the students’ attention began to drift.

“Why do I feel like I’m in History of Magic?” Mikel muttered, covering a yawn with his hand. “And when are we going to eat again? Today’s lunch is pork cutlets—what if they get cold?”

No one answered him. Ryan’s head bobbed precariously, as though he were moments from falling asleep, while Ernie Macmillan stared blankly ahead, his gaze fixed on Umbridge but clearly lost in unrelated thoughts.

Umbridge droned on, slow and methodical, completely oblivious to the growing disinterest.

Some students had already started whispering to each other, while most professors wore expressions ranging from disapproval to resignation.

Professor McGonagall’s brow was deeply furrowed, and Professor Flitwick seemed engrossed in the intricacies of his fork. Even Snape, usually detached, looked irritated—his usual scowl slightly deeper than usual.

Kanna leaned over and whispered to Kyle, “I have a bad feeling the Ministry is going to interfere with Hogwarts.”

“It’s not just a feeling,” Kyle replied. “They definitely intend to interfere. Just listen to her—‘some decisions have become outdated and must be abandoned’? In past years, even last year, the Ministry wouldn’t have dared to meddle in Hogwarts’ decisions like this.”

Kyle paused as he caught a brief movement from Umbridge—her head tilted slightly in his direction. In the briefest of moments, he noticed the unmistakable flash of hatred in her eyes.

Well, Kyle thought, it seems I’ve made it onto her list.

Far from being concerned, Kyle found the situation oddly amusing. Smiling to himself, he picked up his fork and casually ate a piece of pork schnitzel, as if no one were watching.

Cedric, sitting beside him, gawked in astonishment. Kyle’s action bordered on outright defiance, especially since Umbridge was clearly still speaking.

Noticing Kyle’s calm demeanor, a few students glanced nervously toward the head table, particularly at Dumbledore. Yet the headmaster’s attention remained on Umbridge, as if unaware of what was happening.

Encouraged, some bolder students—namely Fred and George—followed Kyle’s lead. The twins started eating with enthusiasm, laughing and chatting as though Umbridge didn’t exist.

Their boldness sparked a domino effect. One by one, more students joined in, the clinking of cutlery gradually overpowering Umbridge’s voice.

Despite her attempts to project authority, Umbridge’s shrill tone failed to regain control of the room. By the time she finished her speech and turned to Dumbledore, the noise of students eating and chatting filled the hall.

Dumbledore, ever unflappable, stood and addressed her with a polite smile.

“Please continue, Professor Umbridge. What you’ve said so far is quite insightful.” His expression was as serious as his tone. “I fully agree that we should pursue progress. A new era does indeed call for a new order.”

He gestured thoughtfully. “You’ve given me much to consider, and I realize I’ve not been doing as well as I could as headmaster.”

But then Dumbledore’s gaze swept across the hall, and his expression shifted to one of mock surprise.

“Oh, so you’ve finished already?” he said, feigning innocence. “I was so engrossed, I hadn’t even noticed. You should have warned me, Professor Umbridge.”

Umbridge’s face twitched as she forced a strained smile. “Yes, I’ve finished,” she said in her high-pitched voice, sitting down stiffly.

Her plan to wait for complete silence before continuing had clearly failed, and she seemed to sense she had lost the room.

As she sat, her eyes darted once more toward the Hufflepuff table, where Kyle—laughing with the others—met her gaze with a cool, unbothered expression.

Dumbledore began clapping, and the other professors joined in with polite but sparse applause. Professor McGonagall’s eyes flicked between Umbridge and Kyle, her frown deepening.

While she didn’t understand why Kyle had acted so brazenly, Dumbledore’s lack of objection seemed to condone it—or at least tolerate it. Still, McGonagall couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding.

She had dealt with Umbridge before and knew her to be petty and vindictive. Her lack of an immediate reaction could only mean she was plotting something worse.

Given that Umbridge would now be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, she would have ample opportunity to target Kyle.

I should find a chance to warn him, McGonagall thought, her worry mounting.