cycle

This Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a total disaster - it's been there ever since Umbridge asked us to put away our wands.She asked us to open "The Theory of Defense of Magic" and start reading with that coquettish voice that didn't match her age, which made many people think that they were still immersed in too sweet dreams in the history of magic class.Defense Against the Dark Arts has never been so boring. Even Professor Quirrell, who stutters in the first grade, will at least bring a few bunches of garlic to tell us a few stories about female ghosts and zombies. Talking about scaring myself.

Hermione quickly raised her hand, having read the entire book over the summer - though frowning all the time.Umbridge tried to ignore her at first, but gradually the whole classroom started looking at Hermione, and she had to ask her, "Honey, do you have any questions about the content of this chapter?"

Umbridge should have regretted this decision quickly, as Hermione asked "why not teach defensive spells in class", she loudly emphasized that every student with problems must raise their hands, so the arms kept coming from The classroom floor was held up on all sides, almost everyone was shocked that in such a critical year - the year that was about to usher in the OWL exam, they could not practice spells in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The smiling faces and the rhetoric that "as long as the theory is solid, you can cast spells under the test conditions" to appease everyone.

"But what's the use of that?" Neville said loudly, his voice was so loud that the other students who raised their hands slowly lowered their hands and turned to look at his angry temple. With a face with throbbing veins, "Don't we need to protect ourselves in the real world?"

A crack appeared in Umbridge's smirk: "This is school, Mr Longbottom, and I hope you remember to raise your hand before you speak next time."

"So the Ministry doesn't think we need to prepare for the real world?" Harry asked aloud, without raising his hand.

"Hands up! Mr. Potter!" Umbridge's eyes protruded even more, "There is nothing waiting outside! We are in a beautiful and peaceful age, and you should be grateful for this prosperity, which is all To the devotion of Minister for Magic Fudge -"

"Really?" Tallus sneered. "If his devotion means hanging a huge portrait of himself in the Great Hall of the Ministry of Magic, I think it is very convincing."

"Enough," said Umbridge, in a voice terribly intimate, "I don't want to hold you down for your faux pas, you're just a bunch of lovely kids whose eyes and minds have been blinded by false statements, and that's normal, nothing to feel bad about." Guilty - you need someone to guide you, to tell you what's right and what's wrong...what's waiting out there to attack you, little fools?"

"Let me see," Harry said, mimicking her disgust, "maybe... You-Know-Who?"

There were screams one after another in the classroom, but Umbridge didn't show any surprise. On the contrary, she slowly glanced at the few students who didn't respond to this sentence, watching them staring at her eyes. A smile appeared on his face: "Mr. Potter, you are still immersed in your own illusions and cannot extricate yourself. You shouldn't have violated the regulations and signed up for the Triwizard Tournament that is far beyond your ability. Let's see how it affects you— —you are your father's only son, and I feel so sorry for him."

"Illusion?" Neville said angrily. "Aside from the saying that we are all children who are incapable of taking responsibility for our words and actions, can't you find any other excuses?"

"Because it's a fact!" Umbridge said decisively, "Mr. Longbottom, the fact is that you are only 15 years old, which is the age when it is most difficult to distinguish between fantasy and reality; the fact is that you are just children eager to attract the attention of others. — that's normal dear, but you need to be guided; the truth is that the claim of a dark wizard returning is sheer nonsense without proof, look at the happy and wonderful lives we all have now!"

"I don't want to have these pointless arguments in class anymore." She adjusted her cardigan, "10 points from Gryffindor for repeatedly ignoring my requirement to raise your hand when I ask questions in class— —Mr. Porter and Mr. Longbottom will come to me for confinement tomorrow evening and the evening of the day after tomorrow respectively. You obviously need my help more than others. I am always ready to help you all. Please remember that I am your most trustworthy friend Well, well, children, please continue to page five."

Neville stood up, and the tables and chairs rubbed against the ground making a loud noise. Many people looked at him with a little fear. At this moment, I suddenly understood the brilliance of the Daily Prophet—Neville It's obvious to us that he's pissed off, but to others who've been bombarded by the Daily Prophet for two or three months, his uncharacteristically shy behavior looks more like madness than anyone wants to believe. Crazy words, because no one wants to be regarded as the next lunatic.

But the moment Umbridge looked up, I heard Harry say a spell, and Neville seemed to be suddenly entangled by some invisible rope and fell back to his seat. Standing up, he looked into Umbridge's drooping eyes.

"Harry!" Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve anxiously, "Calm down!"

"Any more questions, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge probably didn't see that it was Neville who just stood up, her eyes narrowed dangerously, like a toad seeing its prey flying in the air.

"Yes, Professor," he said quietly, "I don't understand, Fudge can't wait to have a dementor suck the soul of Barty Crouch Jr. so that he can't speak anymore, if the Ministry of Magic wants proof , but he was never the only evidence. You can give me Legilimency, or you can give me the most powerful veritaserum, and I promise that what I say will not be any different from what I said a few months ago- As you said, the Minister of Magic has devoted himself to our lives today and needs us to be grateful, so why is Mr. Barty Crouch, who is a senior official of the Ministry of Magic and has arrested countless dark wizards, not even recognized by the Ministry of Magic? What is the real cause of death?"

"Mr. Crouch died from overwork and an accident," Umbridge said coldly. "The Minister expresses his deep condolences on his passing."

"He died of murder." I could hear Harry's voice trembling. He and Neville had barely talked about what happened that night all summer, and now they were in front of thirty of their classmates. Say, "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

The classroom fell into a dead silence because Harry uttered the name of the mysterious man. Neville was immobilized by the binding spell cast by Harry, but tears welled up in his wide-eyed eyes, and Harry also turned pale because of what he just said. Pale, but he stood there motionless and clenched his fists.

"Mr. Potter, memories can be faked, and so can Veritaserum." Umbridge said to Harry in a more gentle and coquettish tone than before, "Come here, dear."

"Can I understand that the Ministry of Magic admits that it only wants to believe what the Ministry wants to believe?" Harry even cracked a smile.

"How can you talk about the Ministry of Magic in such a tone?" Umbridge turned out a roll of pink parchment in his handbag with his stubby fingers, and said in a reproachful tone as he lowered his head and wrote, "Your father was also a member of the Ministry of Magic, have you forgotten?"

"He's been on vacation for so long, I thought the Ministry of Magic had already forgotten about him." Harry seemed to have completely missed the threat implied by Umbridge's words, and he took the sealed parchment.

"Honey, take this to Professor McGonagall." She patted the back of Harry's hand, and then returned to the sweet smile at the beginning of the class. "Hope this doesn't bother you."

Watching Harry disappear into the classroom, Hermione buried her face in her hands, and until the end of get out of class she regretted that she should have been so impulsive in class.

"If I hadn't raised my hand first..." She looked like she was about to cry, "I'm so stupid, I know Neville has been simmering with anger over his parents..."

"Hey, wouldn't you be someone else?" Tallus reassured her with rare tenderness. "Nobody would agree with her stupid way of teaching—wand away? Educational expert? That's hilarious." .”

"You don't know, the last thing she said today was clearly a threat. If Harry's performance at school affects Mr. Potter—"

"It's nothing to influence," said Ron. "My dad said that Mr. Potter is now on compulsory leave. They are sure that if they find a little reason, they will completely kick him out of the Ministry of Magic. There is no way." — If it wasn't for my dad's position, well, they should think it's not that important, and he might be taken measures too."

"My mother has three or four assistants." Talus sneered. "Those people from the Ministry of Magic may not even be able to use the Iron Armor Charm, but they are very smart when they play tricks like falsehood."

"Neville." I watched Neville, who was not lifted by Hermione until the end of the get out of class, hurried past us, and hurriedly stopped him, "Where are you going?"

"I'll go to Professor McGonagall and explain everything," he replied, "I'm the one to stand up, I—why do you all feel that I should be carefully protected? I have always been useless in your eyes." Used waste, right?"

I was too frightened by his violent tone to say anything else, and watched him disappear at the end of the corridor.

"Do you guys think Neville's personality has changed?" I asked Hermione. "He's...never lost his temper like this before."

"I don't think there's anything strange," Hermione also looked at the end of the corridor, her tone sad, "His parents are trapped in St. Mungo's - I think Barty Crouch Jr. must have told the mysterious man before, And he can’t do anything about it; the Daily Prophet has been sparing no effort to discredit him throughout the summer, and there are all kinds of voices talking about him when he walks in the school... No one should be tortured like this.”

The first week of school seems to be as long as a month. No matter how much the snail in the transformation class chanted the disappearing spell to it, it could barely make the shell disappear. One homework was not finished, and then came again There is no time to review the homework and notes from the last class, and a lot of new content that I don't understand has been copied in the notebook. Even a lazy Tallus has to cheer up to deal with the classwork.Harry said nothing about the conversation he had with Professor McGonagall, except that Umbridge punished him for going to detention every night - much to the annoyance of Gryffindor's new Quidditch captain, Angelina, who It is hoped that a goalkeeper who can cooperate with the whole team can be selected. Harry's confinement undoubtedly disrupted her plan.

Hermione didn't want to go to the library to do her homework, saying that she still had important things to do in the lounge, so I started my journey to the library alone. The days seemed to be the same from day to day, with too much homework and repeated repetitions. The practice of this has filled my life and left me with no time to think about anything else.

On the way back to the common room on Wednesday, I met Harry, who had just come back from Umbridge's detention. He looked very tired, because the detention took up the time for him to finish his homework. Flipping through the potions book with a completely blank parchment, if he can't write something to give to my dad, I think my dad will put him in detention too.

"Would you like to see my moonstone paper?" I looked at him worriedly, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought that Dad probably made things difficult for him in class because of me, "I've already written it. "

"It's okay, I'm done fooling around." He pressed his curled hair with his hand without a schoolbag, "Thank you."

"What's on your hand?" I looked at the back of his hand. At first I thought it was the light in the corridor at night that gave people an illusion, but the way he suddenly put his hand behind his back was almost unmistakable, "Written on the back of your hand What are you wearing!"

"It's nothing." He avoided me in embarrassment, "It's just a scratch, accidentally—don't worry about it."

I thought he was too tired for me to grab his arm with the quickness of his Seeker.

"What is this?" I looked at a line of words that seemed to be carved into his skin, "I can't lie? Why is there this? Could it be——"

I looked at him blankly and felt my voice trembling: "You said she just punished you for copying sentences."

"Uh," he paused for a moment, then said, "It's indeed a copy... I don't think it's necessary to say so many details."

"But Neville is still mad at you, you should at least let him know—"

"He can't know." Harry's tone became serious, "Alice, Neville is already very upset, and he has nightmares almost every night. I don't want him to be distracted by this kind of thing again, and I can't let Wu Mlich feels proud."

"It doesn't hurt." He lied lamely. "It just looks a little scary. It's okay. Mom told me to take care of Neville. Don't tell them about it for now, okay? I'm afraid Talus will go find him." Umbridge's trouble, Ron seems to be busy with something recently, do me a favor, okay?"

"How can there be someone who likes to be a hero like you?" I think the more he pretends to be calm, the more uncomfortable I feel. I would rather he stand here and yell at Umbridge for half an hour.

"Someone has to be a hero." He laughed, "I'm going back, I still have a lot of homework to do."

I had to agree with Harry to keep it a secret for him for the time being, but I figured that sooner or later other people would find out about this line, and he had to go to Umbridge for two days in detention, which meant those scars would get deeper.

The weather was cold, and the air became more humid because of the rain.The homework in the schoolbag seems to be able to multiply by itself, and it can be tripled in just one day.Although no new content was learned in the Charms class, and we were still reviewing the summoning spells from last semester, Professor Frivi gave us an unprecedented practice assignment with half a blackboard, emphasizing the importance of OWL—as if after so much Reminded us many times and still can't remember the same!Hermione is still the only student in Transfiguration class who can make the snail completely disappear, and Ron is confident that the color of his snail shell has become a little lighter (“I think a little lighter won’t make you pass the OWL exam.” Ree got an A, Mr Weasley," said Professor McGonagall).All the teachers blah blah blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I desperately squeezed in some time to write a letter to my mother. Before we came to Hogwarts, Moody warned us that the Ministry of Magic was likely to monitor our correspondence with our parents and asked us to be careful when writing letters. Disclose any information related to the Order of the Phoenix.I checked it after I finished writing half a parchment, and it was just a generic letter from home describing the beginning of school and asking my mother how she prepared for her exams in fifth grade. The big eyes frantically scanned up and down and could not find any faults.

"Vivienne!" I climbed to the owl hut in the evening and called to my little owl in a large flock of owls, "Where are you, Vivienne?"

She quickly squeezed out from a corner, landed on my arm and combed her feathers first, then jumped on my shoulder and rubbed her head against my side face, making a loud happy sound.

"You're shedding hair." I coughed a few times because of the feathers covering my face, but she felt that I was playing with her, and she was even happier when I spread my wings. "Okay, stop making trouble, and send a letter to my mother for me, please?"

"Yes, you are already a big owl, you have to be more stable." There was no one in the owl hut, so I boldly nagged to Vivienne who stretched out a leg to me, "ask mom for me Well, just peck her thumb lightly."

She blinked at me slowly, nibbled my thumb with her beak, and tilted her head to look at me.

"Yes, really smart." I smoothed the feathers on her chest, Vivienne was like a warm sales stove in such a cold weather, "Good luck."

I watched her jump out of the small window of the shed, spread her wings, and soon become a blurred dot in the sky, gradually disappearing from my vision.The rain outside is still pattering, and it is cumbersome to open an umbrella. If you don’t open an umbrella, your robe will get wet. I don’t want to go back to the Gryffindor common room, because Hermione will pull me and hope that I can give it to her with her. House Elf Knitting Hats - if that pocket thing has to be called a hat.Ron had another cold war with Hermione for mocking Hermione's knitting skills, but they made it up every few days anyway, so the rest of us pretended not to realize it.

It's not that I don't want to help my good friend, but it turns out that even though I am a mother of three children, I have not made any progress in techniques such as needlework and knitting, let alone a little bit of talent.My husband always tenderly calls my handicrafts “cute oddities” while tactfully discourages me from trying to dress the kids in them.When Hermione enthusiastically sent me the little sweaters and socks she helped me knit during work breaks, she never forgot to tell me that if I had practiced with her then, I would be able to knit sweaters of all kinds like her now. The same pattern—she always believed that hard work could redeem most things.

It looked like it was another night of doing homework in the library, I shook the owl feathers on my scarf, and when I turned around, the door of the owl shack opened, and Draco walked away with a letter Entering the owl shack, his taupe owl immediately spread its wings and flew to the nearest wooden pole.

"Stay away from me," he ordered the owl calmly, "don't drop the fur on me."

"Draco." I called to him as he was about to leave.

He turned around, with the expression that he had just noticed me standing here, and simply snorted through his nose: "Huh?"

Don't mess with Draco Malfoy was one of Hermione's toughest pieces of advice to Tallus and Harry this term ("It's about the same," Tallus said), and she kept emphasizing it over and over. Draco is now a prefect, as long as he wants, he can find all kinds of reasons to confine people.So whether it's Draco and the Slytherins spouting rumors in Care of Fantastic Beasts that Hagrid is never going back to Hogwarts, or they're gloating about Harry being locked up for a week by Umbridge During the Quidditch training, Hermione tightly held the sleeves of the two boys to prevent them from confronting Draco head-on, while Ron puffed up his chest wearing the prefect badge to meet Draco. A few words of scolding - I usually pretend that I am immersed in the ocean of knowledge and cannot extricate myself at this time, and Hermione also agrees that this is my best choice.

"My note." I looked him in the eyes and said, "You said you would return it to me."

"Is this the only thing you have to say to me now?" There was no emotion in his tone.

Otherwise, what can I say, is the weather good today?I opened my mouth and asked him dryly, "So you don't want to return it to me?"

"What am I doing with a tattered notebook?" He sneered, "What's on your mind, are you worried that I'll dedicate it to someone?"

"Since it's useless for you to keep it, why don't you give it back to me?" I almost jumped up like a cat whose tail was stepped on when the central matter was said.

"Because I don't remember." He slowly brushed off a piece of fluff that fell on his shoulders. For some reason, his mood seemed much better than when he first entered the shed. "I'm very busy, and I don't have the brain to remember boring things. .”

"Then when will you remember?" I crossed my arms and put them down quickly, feeling that my actions just now resembled Hermione who was about to lose her temper.

"I don't know." He yawned, "Let's talk about it, maybe one day I can remember it, maybe I can't remember it all the time—"

Angrily, I grabbed a handful of hay that was spread on the owl shelf and wanted to throw it at his smug face, and Hermione's serious voice came to my ears again: "He can find all kinds of excuses to put you in confinement—I don't think so. You still have time to waste on this, look at your homework!"

"Wise choice," he said, looking at my hanging hand. "Knowing that I'm going to treat you like any other Gryffindor, it seems that staying with Potter and the others hasn't ruined your brains. But if things go on like this...you will regret what a wrong decision you made in the first place."

The door of the Owl Cottage was flung open again, and Ferridge came in breathlessly, looking as though he must have just trotted, and Mrs Norris slipped in right behind him, her eyes fixed on the The owls perched on top of the head caused a commotion, and the owls kept flapping their wings irritably. I was choked by the feathers that fell on my hair and face and coughed a few more times.

"You!" Filch shuffled a step towards me, the flesh on his face trembling dangerously, "I heard you plan to order dangerous medicine!"

"Who told you that?" I looked at him coldly, remembering that Talus said that he also met Filch when he sent the letter, and he made an excuse to read the letter we sent, "Say the name Come."

"You are not qualified to inquire about my source of information." Filch said triumphantly, "I am an administrator, and I am qualified to nip instabilities in their infancy!"

"If I want any raw materials, I can go directly to Professor Snape's office." I didn't want to tangle with him, Mrs. Norris walked around my feet, her tail wrapped around my ankles, "Don't you think Is the reason you are looking for untenable?"

"Threat me with your father, huh?" He approached me with a happy expression, "Do you think I'd be afraid? It's not the same today, miss, Hogwarts is changing, after all these years it's finally changing —hand over your letters!"

"Sent off." I felt uncomfortable at his approach, stepped back and squeezed the wand in my pocket, "Sorry Mr. Filch."

"Then what are you doing with your hands in your pockets?" Filch stretched out his wrinkled hands to grab my wrists. "Get your hands out—you asked for it!"

"She's been with me all this time." Draco said coldly when I stepped back desperately not to let Filch touch me, "I watched her send the letter away."

Filch stopped his hand that was about to reach into the pocket of my robe, he looked dangerously at me and then at Draco standing in the doorway, the pendant on his jaw kept shaking, I felt his Bad breath all over my face.

"Didn't you hear me?" Draco yelled, "If you want to get something for real, remember to run faster next time!"

"You—" Filch turned around and stared at Draco, who pointed to the prefect badge on his chest expressionlessly, and then Filch looked back at me unwillingly before dragging Foot walked to the door.Mrs. Norris meowed longingly, and looked at the owls reluctantly before following her master's pace.

"I warned you not to mix with that group of people." Draco sneered, "This is just the beginning, I don't have the time to spare you—this is the last time."