human again / hp.

Chapter 78

I walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with the rest of my fellow Gryffindors, immediately greeted by a blinding wave of pink. It was hard to ignore the saccharine decorations that now overwhelmed every inch of the room, from frilly curtains to fluffy bows that hung from the light fixtures. I couldn't suppress the grimace that pulled at my face. The entire room looked like it had been dipped in bubblegum frosting, and I couldn't help but think how out of place it felt in Hogwarts, a school known for its rich history, ancient magic, and, well, more serious tones. It was as though someone had mistaken Hogwarts for a dollhouse.

I made my way to my usual seat beside Daphne, who was already seated with her quill in hand, meticulously organizing her parchment and ink bottles with a look of quiet focus. Daphne didn't seem to mind the ridiculous decorations, but I had long learned that she was one to focus on the task at hand—no matter how absurd the situation. Across the room, Draco was already settled into his seat with his usual smug expression, surrounded by his Slytherin lackeys. His prefect badge gleamed on his chest, a silent boast of his status. I deliberately avoided his gaze, knowing full well that if I met his eyes, he'd shoot me a smug grin, and I didn't have the patience for his antics today.

The noise in the room slowly died down as the door creaked open, and Dolores Umbridge entered. Her entrance was like a punch to the gut. The woman was tiny, with an almost frog-like demeanor, her every step exuding that disturbing mixture of sweetness and authority. She was draped in her signature pink cardigan, a fashion choice that I had long associated with all things fake and suffocating. Just the sight of her made my stomach churn uncomfortably. I had met many unpleasant people over the years, but Umbridge's very presence seemed to radiate a peculiar kind of wrongness, like a twisted version of a fairy tale character. There was something about her that made my skin crawl, like being in the presence of someone who didn't just follow the rules but relished in enforcing them with unnecessary cruelty.

As Umbridge began the lesson, I attempted to focus on the blackboard, though the words written there made me frown.

'Theoretical principles of defensive magic.'

My quill scratched against the parchment as I reluctantly copied the words down. There was something unsettling about the entire situation. The tension in the air was palpable. It wasn't long before Harry stumbled into the room, breathless and flustered, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He muttered an apology under his breath as he hurried to his seat beside Ron.

"Sorry, Professor..." Harry mumbled.

Umbridge's sickly sweet smile widened even further, if that was possible, but there was an unmistakable venom in her tone as she greeted him. "Hmm, let's see, five points from Gryffindor for being late."

I shot Harry a sympathetic glance as he slid into his seat. I could tell that Umbridge had been waiting for the chance to make an example of him.

"Now," Umbridge continued, her voice dripping with sweetness, "as I was saying before Mr. Potter interrupted with his antics, your Defense Against the Dark Arts education has been rather fragmented and disjointed in your previous classes, hasn't it?"

My grip on my quill tightened. I didn't like how Umbridge dismissed all of our prior lessons as if they had been meaningless. True, not all our Defense professors had been stellar, but they had at least taught us practical skills—skills we might one day need. But Umbridge, of course, had other plans.

With a casual wave of her wand, more text appeared on the blackboard.

"I will be following a pre-approved Ministry-prepared, theory-centered Defense lesson plan. Copy this down."