Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 625: Umbridge Messes with the Wrong Person

By the time Kyle reached the seat Kanna had saved for him, a generous serving of lunch was already waiting on his plate.

“So, what happened?” Kanna asked as he sat down.

“Just as we suspected,” Kyle replied, picking up his fork. “Umbridge—or rather, the Ministry of Magic—is targeting the professors. But there’s something I didn’t expect.”

“What’s that?”

“Professor Trelawney,” Kyle said, placing a piece of toast on his plate. “I think she might actually have a talent for prophecy.”

“Professor Trelawney?” Cedric interjected, his tone filled with skepticism. He shook his head. “I doubt it. From what I’ve seen, no one sticks with Divination past sixth year unless they’re trying to tick off all their certificate boxes. The class is practically useless—you don’t really learn anything.”

“You’re not wrong,” Kyle admitted with a small smile. “Maybe she just got lucky this time.”

By the afternoon, Kyle found himself re-evaluating Umbridge’s audacity.

The first class after lunch was Transfiguration. As Kyle entered the room, he immediately noticed Umbridge seated in a corner, her clipboard balanced on her lap.

When Professor McGonagall walked in moments later, she appeared not to notice Umbridge at all, sweeping past her without so much as a glance.

“Looks like Umbridge has bitten off more than she can chew,” Cho whispered from the next row, her voice tinged with amusement. “Professor McGonagall isn’t someone to mess with.”

“Agreed,” Kyle said, struggling to suppress a laugh.

McGonagall strode to the podium with her usual commanding presence. As she turned to face the class, silence fell.

“All right, let’s begin,” she said briskly. “After a month of study, most of you have mastered the basics of human transfiguration. Today, we’ll be raising the difficulty level once again...”

“Ahem,” came an exaggerated cough from the back of the room.

Umbridge had stood up, her posture stiff, as if preparing to speak.

McGonagall didn’t even look in her direction, continuing as though nothing had happened.

“Advanced body transfiguration involves not only altering appearance but also incorporating corresponding abilities. For example, in last year’s Triwizard Tournament, the Durmstrang champion partially transfigured his upper body into a shark for the Second Task in the Black Lake. That is an example of successful body transformation...”

“Ahem!” Umbridge interrupted again with another loud cough.

This time, Professor McGonagall turned to face her, her patience visibly wearing thin.

“What is it?” McGonagall asked, her tone sharp. “If you’ve got something to say, say it now.”

“I was merely wondering,” Umbridge began, feigning concern, “if it’s not a bit premature to be teaching such advanced body transfiguration. As I understand it, this type of magic is considered quite dangerous.”

“I beg to differ,” McGonagall said coolly. “These are all sixth-year students, and they are more than capable. In fact, it would be a disservice to have them practicing elementary transformations at this stage. Surely you’re aware this has always been the standard in my advanced classes?”

Umbridge’s face flushed red, then white.

The implication was clear to anyone listening. When she had attended Hogwarts, Umbridge hadn’t been good enough to take Professor McGonagall’s advanced Transfiguration classes. The subtle dig hit its mark, and low murmurs of laughter rippled through the room.

Umbridge’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Ahem,” she tried again, clearing her throat.

Before she could speak, McGonagall cut her off.

“That’s quite enough,” she said firmly. “If you’d like to understand what I’m teaching, I’d suggest you refrain from interrupting. And let me be clear—no one else will speak in my class without permission.”

Her words were blunt, and the atmosphere crackled with tension. Umbridge sat back down, trembling with fury as she scrawled something on her clipboard. Her pen scratched so furiously across the surface that even from a distance, it was obvious she was crossing something out with vigor.

Kyle couldn’t see what she was writing, but it was clear that her notes wouldn’t be favorable.

McGonagall, however, remained entirely unbothered, continuing the lesson as though Umbridge didn’t exist.

The rest of the period passed without further interruption, though Umbridge sat stiffly, her face growing darker with each passing minute.

When McGonagall finally announced the end of class, the students filed out eagerly, the undercurrent of amusement still lingering in their expressions.

As Umbridge stood and made her way to the podium, Kyle accidentally dropped his quill and book.

“Oops,” he muttered, bending down to retrieve them.

Kanna, noticing from ahead, turned back to help him.

“How long have you been at Hogwarts?” Umbridge asked, her tone sharp and probing.

Professor McGonagall snapped her book shut, her posture rigid as she replied, “Thirty-nine years. By December, it will have been forty.”

“Oh... almost forty years?” Kanna whispered in astonishment. “Has Professor McGonagall really been here that long?”

“Of course,” Kyle said, leaning slightly toward her. “Don’t forget, plenty of professors have been her students. Professor Snape, for instance, and even...” He gestured subtly toward Umbridge.

At that moment, Umbridge finished scribbling something on her clipboard and looked up. Her expression, as usual, was a mixture of condescension and false politeness.

“By the way,” she began, “I’ve heard that many students have been injured in your class. Have you considered that there might be an issue with your teaching methods?”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows drew together in a tight line. Her voice, icy and controlled, was sharper than ever.

“I don’t believe I need anyone to tell me how to teach Transfiguration. And if you’re referring to Mr. Longbottom or Mr. Finnigan, I must inform you that it’s not entirely safe for them to even attempt a simple Wand-Lighting Charm.”

“Oh?” Umbridge said, feigning surprise. “Have you considered that the problem might be solved by not allowing students to use their wands at all? For their safety, of course.”

McGonagall’s response came instantly, her tone laced with dry wit. “I seem to recall you taking a tumble down the stairs yesterday when you rushed off-campus. Should we suggest you remain in your office for your safety?”

The color drained from Umbridge’s face, though she said nothing, her quill furiously scratching against her clipboard.

“Very well,” she said after a pause, forcing composure into her voice. “You will receive the results of my investigation in ten days.”

“I can hardly wait,” McGonagall replied coldly.

Her eyes flicked briefly to Umbridge, and for a moment, her expression softened as she noticed the woman rubbing the back of her hand.

“And how’s your hand?” McGonagall asked in a tone that could almost be mistaken for concern.

Umbridge blinked, momentarily startled. Misinterpreting the question as a veiled insult, she answered stiffly, “It’s nothing—just a trivial matter. Perhaps I encountered something enchanted while tidying the office.”

She added with a sneer, “I’m not surprised. That office has never been occupied by a...normal person. Not even Moody, who was mentally unstable, or the Werewolf...” She said the last word with undisguised disgust. “I threw everything out, just as this school’s irrational systems should be discarded.”

“Really,” McGonagall said evenly, giving Umbridge a look so pointed it made the air in the room feel heavier. She didn’t say another word, merely turned and strode toward the door.

As she passed, she waved her wand, and a piece of parchment fluttered up from the floor into Kyle’s hands.

“Ah, thank you, Professor McGonagall,” Kyle said with an easy smile. “I couldn’t find this anywhere.”

Kanna lowered her head, her face tinged with embarrassment. The parchment had been lying in plain sight right by the door. How could Kyle say he couldn’t find it so naturally?

“Don’t dawdle,” McGonagall said as she exited the room. “You’ll be late for your next class.”

For a fleeting moment, Kanna thought she saw the faintest hint of a smile on McGonagall’s face as she left.