Waving to her parents from the platform, Daphne Greengrass took a deep breath and stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, trying to decide if she was excited or nervous. When she had received Harry's message about his month-long absence, she'd hoped it had just been a bad joke or that something might change at the last minute.

As she walked past compartments filled with excited students, she spotted Luna and Neville sitting together near a window, waving her over as she looked in.

"Daphne!" Luna called out, her large, silvery eyes lighting up. "Have you seen Harry? We've been looking for him."

"Yeah, we were hoping to catch him before the train left. Do you know where he is?" Neville asked, looking up from a weird plant on his lap.

Daphne forced herself to give a reassuring smile, "Actually, Harry won't be here for the next month. He sent me a message a few days ago explaining that he had some urgent business to attend to."

Luna's brows knitted together in curiosity. "He didn't tell us that… Is he okay?"

"He was okay last I heard," Daphne reassured, trying to keep her tone light. "But I promise I'll fill you in on the details later. I'm heading to my first Prefect meeting now, so I need to go."

Neville nodded, understanding. "Alright, Daphne. Good luck with the meeting!"

With a final wave, Daphne turned and continued down the corridor. As she approached the carriage designated for the Prefect meeting, Daphne took a deep breath and steadied herself. By the time she slid open the door and entered, she had composed herself into a mask of calm confidence.

The Prefect Carriage was a sophisticated and somewhat grand space, markedly nicer than the rest of the train. The carriage was divided into three distinct sections, each dedicated to one of the school years.

Daphne frowned at the arrangement, noting the implied hierarchy. Each section was arranged in a loose semi-circle, all facing towards the raised end of the carriage, where the head boy and head girl would sit.

The section closest to the stage was filling with the older prefects in their final year gathered around a large, ornate table laden with biscuits, fruit, and tea.

Further back, the second section was designated for the sixth-year prefects. Their area featured a smaller table stacked with bound parchments.

The third and final section, where Daphne guessed she had to sit, was for the fifth-year prefects. She couldn't help but scoff at how her section was the only one without a table, and only one other firth year Prefect was here before her.

Daphne took her place and looked around, trying to suppress her unease. To distract herself, she turned to Ernie Macmillan seated a few chairs away, who appeared openly stressed. Ernie, a Hufflepuff prefect, was fidgeting with the edge of his badge and staring intently at the floor.

"Everything alright, Ernie?" Daphne asked.

Ernie looked up, his face breaking into a nervous smile. "Oh, Daphne. Yes, well, I must confess to feeling rather anxious. I want to ensure everything is executed to perfection. It's a rather considerable responsibility, don't you think?"

Daphne gave him a reassuring nod. "I understand completely. It's a lot to take in, but we'll manage. I'm feeling a bit on edge myself."

Ernie's expression softened slightly, though he continued to fidget with the edge of his badge. "Indeed. Personally, I think this might be the most critical part of our year, even with the looming O.W.L.s. My father always said that a distinguished Prefect record looked good when job hunting."

Daphne raised an eyebrow at Ernie's somewhat dramatic tone but couldn't help a small smile. "That may depend on what you plan to do after Hogwarts. Since I'll be stepping into my father's business, I rather hope he won't be overly concerned with my Prefect record."

"Ah, my father would never let me off so easily," Ernie chuckled, "even if he had a business to pass on."

Just as Daphne was about to reply, the door at the front of the carriage slid open. Cedric Diggory, the head boy, entered with the head girl, whose name Daphne had yet to learn. The room fell silent as Cedric took his place at the front, ready to commence the meeting.

"Morning, everyone," Cedric greeted easily as he took his place at the front of the carriage. "As usual, we'll likely be waiting for the fifth-year prefects, so thank you, Daphne and Ernie, for actually showing up on time. Before they arrive, I'll just say a few words about the upcoming year."

Cedric's calm and authoritative tone set the mood for the meeting. "This year, we'll be focusing on several key areas, including enhancing communication between prefects and faculty, maintaining a positive environment within the school, and of course, ensuring the smooth running of events. Your roles are crucial, and I trust you'll all rise to the occasion."

As Cedric spoke, Daphne noticed the compartment door sliding open once more. The remaining fifth-year Prefects trickled in, with each new arrival drawing a subtle frown from Cedric.

Finally, a flushed Ron Weasley took his seat beside Parvati Patil, studiously looking solely at the floor.

Cedric nodded to the gathered prefects. "Now that we're all here, let's get started. We'll review the main responsibilities and discuss any questions you might have."

"I have a question," Draco drawled, languidly raising a hand. "Where's Potter?"

Cedric gave Draco a measured look before responding. "Harry will not be joining us this year. He has other commitments and won't be serving as a prefect. If you have any concerns about how this might affect our duties, we can discuss them further."

"Are you saying there are commitments more important than being a Prefect?" Draco asked with a mock gasp, "I just mean, he was the school champion last year for the Triwizard Tournament, so why do we have Goldstein here instead?"

Across from him, Anthony Goldstein shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face flushing a deep red. He looked down at his hands, which had suddenly become very interesting. "Well, um, it's not really my decision," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by the attention and Draco's offhand remarks.

Patricia Stimpson, the head girl, spoke up for the first time. Her tone was calm but firm. "Anthony was chosen because Professor Flitwick had faith in his abilities. Anyway, we aren't here to debate who is or isn't a Prefect, Malfoy. If you have concerns, you should address them with the Headmaster. Besides, Cedric was also the school champion."

Draco's grin widened, his expression growing more mischievous. "Ah, forgive me," he said with mock sincerity. "I meant to say that Potter was the only truly successful school champion."

Rather than taking offence, Cedric's lips curled into a wry smile. "Given everything Harry's been through, I'd say he's earned the right to be considered successful in his own way."

Draco's eyes narrowed, a sneer on his lips. "So, you're one of those who believes Potter's story, then?"

Cedric's expression hardened, though his tone remained composed. "I'd be a fool not to." He glanced around the room, ensuring his words carried weight. "Now, if there are no more questions about our fellow Prefects, let's proceed with our meeting. We have important matters to cover, and it's crucial that we stay focused."

By the time the meeting neared its end, Daphne's initial tension had faded. Cedric wrapped up the session with a reassuring nod. "Thank you all for your participation today. Let's ensure we support each other and uphold the standards expected of us. If any issues arise, don't hesitate to reach out."

As the Prefects began to collect their belongings and leave the compartment, Cedric gestured for Daphne to stay behind. Leaning in slightly, he spoke in a hushed voice, "I assume there is a reason Draco was acting like that. I thought he and Harry were getting along well last year. Has something happened to change that?"

Daphne sighed, her expression thoughtful. "It's hard to say for sure, but I'd guess it's related to the pressure Draco and his family are under. Harry mentioned last year that the Malfoys would be under scrutiny from You-Know-Who. Hopefully, Draco is just playing a role to protect himself."

"Alright then," he said, nodding slowly, clearly not entirely grasping the nuances of the situation. "Thanks for the heads-up. Do you need me to come find you when it's your turn on patrol, or do you have it covered?"

Daphne smiled at Cedric's earnestness. "I've got it covered, thanks. But I appreciate the offer."

Cedric gave a friendly nod before heading off. With a sigh, Daphne turned and made her way back through the train, the prospect of sitting with her old group of friends seemed oddly incomplete.

As Daphne wandered down the corridor, she passed several compartments, each filled with groups of chatting students. The hum of excitement and laughter filled the air, but without Harry by her side, she felt a bit adrift, unsure where she would fit in.

Just as she was about to slip into an empty compartment for some solitude, she noticed Luna and Neville sitting with Ron and Susan Bones.

Daphne hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door with a smile. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt.

Neville looked up with a grin. "Daphne! Of course, come on in. We were just talking about Harry. Apparently, Ron spent the summer with him."

"Oh, great," Ron muttered, barely glancing at Daphne. "Just let anyone know why don't you?"

"Ron, Daphne knew Harry wouldn't be here before we did," Luna said, frowning slightly as she intervened. "Please, Daphne, come and sit with us."

Relieved, Daphne slid into an empty seat beside Luna, grateful for the familiar company.

Ron leaned forward, near glaring at her. "Alright then, what do you know about Harry?"

Not liking his challenging tone, Daphne scowled at him, "Honestly, Ron? I know he visited my house over the summer. He was attacked by Dementors right after, and then whisked away to a safe house. I assume that's where you saw him. He left for a secret mission just a few days ago. He's with Hagrid and Professor Maxime from Beauxbatons. Is that enough for you?"

Neville, who had been quietly observing, gave Daphne a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Daphne. Now, breathe."

Daphne let out a small, embarrassed laugh and took a deep breath, her tension easing.

Luna glanced at Ron, a hint of reproach in her voice. "Ron, a little tact wouldn't hurt. Just because Daphne has been in contact with Harry doesn't mean it's a competition."

Ron, initially defensive, looked down and fidgeted with his sleeve. "Right, sorry about that."

As the conversation settled, Susan Bones, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "Daphne, you mentioned Harry was on a secret mission. When is he expected back? You know, he promised to help me with my self-defence training."

Daphne looked at Susan, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Susan. Harry won't be back for about a month."

Susan's face fell, her enthusiasm dimming. "A month, huh?" She frowned, clearly disappointed. "I was really looking forward to starting those lessons. I suppose I'll have to hope our DADA professor is actually competent in the meantime."

Daphne reached out a hand reassuringly. "I'm sorry it's such a long wait. If you need any tips or help before then, I'd be happy to assist in any way I can."

Susan gave a tight smile, her disappointment evident. "Thanks, Daphne, but I think I'll just go find my usual friends. Maybe I'll catch up with you later."

With a nod and a polite, if slightly strained, smile, Susan gathered her things and left the compartment.

As soon as the door closed behind Susan, Ron muttered under his breath, "Well, fuck you too."

"Ron!" Daphne said sharply, her voice cutting over Luna's soft giggles.

"What?" Ron asked, puzzled. "She didn't have to leave just because Harry isn't here!"

"Regardless, that kind of language isn't necessary."

Neville, shrugging slightly, added, "It's just Ron being Ron. No harm done."

"Yeah, calm down, Greengrass," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Ron, you're a Prefect now! What if someone younger heard you? How would you explain that?" Daphne challenged, her tone firm.

"Oi, Luna, don't fucking swear," Ron said, pointing at Luna with mock severity, causing the girl to clutch her stomach as she laughed harder.

"There, sorted," Ron said with a satisfied grin, as if he'd solved the entire issue.

"Anyway, do you guys want to see what I got for my birthday?" Neville cut in enthusiastically.

He reached into his bag and carefully pulled out a small, greyish plant that resembled a cactus but was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines. It had a peculiar, slightly pulsating appearance, almost like a bizarrely animated piece of coral.

Neville placed it on the seat beside him, his face beaming with pride. "This is a Mimbulus mimbletonia. It's quite rare and really interesting."

Luna's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh, it's fascinating! I've read about it, but I've never seen one in person."

Ron raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical but intrigued. "That's... different. What does it do?"

Neville's face brightened further as he eagerly explained, "It has a unique defensive mechanism. Here, let me show you."

Neville held up the Mimbulus mimbletonia, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Watch this." He carefully prodded one of the plant's boils with the tip of his quill.

Instantly, thick, dark green liquid erupted from every boil, splattering across the compartment. The stuff hit the ceiling, smeared the windows, and even hit Luna, who ducked to shield her face, her previous laughter turning into a surprised shriek.

Daphne, reacting quickly, raised her arms to protect herself but ended up with what looked like a slimy green hat. Ron, who had leaned in for a closer look, got a face full of the stinking liquid, which smelled like rancid manure.

Neville, drenched from head to toe and blinking furiously to clear the goo from his eyes, looked mortified. "S-sorry!" he stammered, wiping his face with his sleeve. "I didn't realise it would spray so much... or so... forcefully. Don't worry, though, Stinksap isn't poisonous!" he added hastily, seeing Ron spitting out the unpleasant liquid onto the floor.

Ron, looking both disgruntled and amused, wiped his face with a grimace. "Thanks for the warning," he muttered, trying to get rid of the last of the muck. "Next time, a bit less... explosive, maybe?"

Their laughter and chatter came to an abrupt halt when the compartment door slid open. Cedric Diggory stood there, a bemused expression on his face as he took in the chaotic scene.

"Are you all alright in here?" Cedric asked, his gaze sweeping over the green-spattered compartment.

Daphne, her face flushing a deep shade of red, quickly reached for her wand. With a swift flick, she vanquished the remaining Stinksap from the walls and seats, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Yeah, we're fine. Sorry about that." Daphne muttered, casting a hurried glance at Cedric.

Cedric gave her an understanding smile. "It's cool. I just wanted to remind you that it's time for your patrol with Malfoy. Let me know if you need anything."

Daphne nodded, her face still a bit flushed as she gathered her things. "Thanks, Cedric. I'll head out now."

"No worries," Cedric said with a friendly smile. "You might want to put your badge on, though. It helps stop people thinking you're just being bossy." He gave her a wave before heading off.

The Great Hall shimmered with golden candlelight, the ambient hum of chatter filling the air as Daphne Greengrass settled into her place at the Slytherin table. Yet, despite the usual bustle, Daphne found herself somewhat detached from the excitement of the Sorting Ceremony.

Typically, she would have been absorbed in the ceremony's details, but tonight, her attention drifted. Her gaze wandered down her house's table. The usual enthusiasm was overshadowed by political unease.

The rising quiet tensions in the wizarding world had seeped into the house, manifesting in the divided dynamics at the table.

While the neighbouring Hufflepuff table was filled with jovial chatter, Slytherin House was unusually quiet and sombre.

On one side, groups huddled around Draco Malfoy, aligning themselves with the darkening outlook and families sympathetic to Voldemort. On the other, students gathered near her, as Daphne's association with Harry Potter had positioned her as a reluctant figurehead.

To her relief, the majority of her House chose to keep their distance, trying to avoid being drawn into the factions that seemed to dominate the Slytherin table. She could already tell there would be problems as people's views clashed.

The murmurs of the hall quieted as Professor McGonagall began calling out the names of the first-years. Daphne's attention, initially wandering, snapped back into focus when she heard "Greengrass, Elliot."

She hadn't even realised her younger cousin was old enough to start at Hogwarts. The estrangement of his branch of the family, caused by the fallout from their fathers' disputes, had meant she had lost track of Elliot's progress.

Elliot, a nervous but eager-looking boy with his mother's distinctive dark hair, stepped forward and took a seat on the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and for a moment, the hall was silent as the hat deliberated.

After a brief pause, the Sorting Hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!" The Ravenclaw table erupted into cheers, welcoming the new member with open arms.

Daphne gave a polite, if somewhat distracted, nod in Elliot's direction as he made his way to his new house.

Millicent Bulstrode, sitting nearby, leaned over with a curious look. "Is he a relative of yours?" she asked, her gaze flickering between Daphne and the new Ravenclaw.

Daphne glanced briefly at Millicent, her expression nonchalant. "Yes, he's an estranged cousin," she said dismissively.

With that, Daphne turned her attention away from Millicent, her mind already shifting to other matters. The Sorting Ceremony soon drew to a close, and the students began to settle into their seats as the platters of food appeared on the tables, and the hum of conversation resumed.

Eventually, the plates of food vanished, as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. His twinkling eyes and serene smile commanded instant attention. The hall fell silent as he began his traditional start-of-year speech.

What was not traditional was the sudden appearance of another figure rising from the staff table—a woman clad in a strikingly pink outfit that seemed almost garish compared to the usual robes of Hogwarts staff.

The woman cleared her throat, effectively interrupting the Headmaster, and began addressing the students directly. At first, Daphne did not recognise her. But as the woman spoke, Daphne's memory stirred. She recalled her father's recounting of Harry's hearing and the Ministry official who had been particularly unpleasant.

The realisation struck Daphne like a cold wave. Her frown deepened as she connected the dots, recognising this as Dolores Umbridge. The thought of her presence at Hogwarts made Daphne's unease grow.

Daphne's gaze flickered to the Hufflepuff table, where she quickly spotted Susan Bones. Susan was listening intently, her frustration growing more visible with each word Umbridge uttered.

Daphne couldn't understand why Professor Umbridge was dragging out her speech. A simple "The Ministry is here to cause chaos," would have sufficed.

As Professor Umbridge continued her tiresome speech, Daphne's attention drifted once more. She glanced at the clock, noting how the minutes ticked by. Finally, the speech finished and the students began to disperse. Daphne rose from the Slytherin table and made her way to the front of the hall, where Draco was already gathering the new Slytherins.

"Right, listen up, first-years," Draco said with an authoritative tone. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is Daphne Greengrass. We're your Prefects. You can recognise us by the green trim on our robes and our Prefect badges." He gestured to the thick green stripe on the outer edge of his robe, setting it apart from the standard Slytherin attire.

Daphne stepped forward, point at her own Prefect badge as she added, "We'll be leading you to our common room, so stick together."

With Draco leading the way, and Daphne ensuring the group stayed organised, they began their journey through the dimly lit corridors of the castle. As they passed other Prefects escorting their own houses, Daphne noted the varied approaches in managing the first-years. Notably, Ron who had to be called back by an angry Professor McGonagall.

The descent into the dungeons brought a noticeable drop in temperature and light. The first-years huddled together, and Daphne occasionally had to usher them along to keep the group moving.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a large, seemingly ordinary stretch of wall. Draco stopped and turned to face the first-years, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Here we are. To enter the common room, you need the password."

He stepped forward and addressed the wall. "The password is 'Resurrection.' Remember it well and keep it to yourselves. There will be consequences if you share it."

As he spoke, the wall shimmered and a hidden door slowly slid open, revealing the warm, inviting interior of the Slytherin common room. The green-lit, serpentine-themed space greeted them with a sense of grandeur.

With a final nod from Daphne and Draco, the first-years stepped through the entrance, their awe apparent as they took in their new surroundings. After the first-years had settled into the Slytherin common room and the excitement of the evening had waned, Daphne retired to her dormitory, eager for some much-needed rest.

The next morning dawned cold and overcast, which Daphne ominously felt would set the tone for the rest of her day, as Daphne made her way to her first class of the year, her thoughts already turning to Professor Umbridge.

She couldn't shake the uneasy feeling from the previous night's feast; the new professor's presence was already casting a shadow over the start of the term.

As she walked through the bustling corridors, she spotted Ron Weasley making his way to the same class, clearly still half-asleep. Daphne quickened her pace to catch up with him.

"Hey, Ron," she called out, approaching him with a sense of urgency. "Listen, I've been thinking. Professor Umbridge is likely going to try and provoke us, get us to slip up or make us admit Harry's a liar or something."

Ron blinked blearily at her, clearly struggling to fully wake up. "What?" he mumbled, his confusion evident.

"Just—don't react, okay?" Daphne said, her voice firm but low. "Umbridge will try to get a rise out of us, especially those of us who are friends with Harry. If she pushes, don't let her get to you. Stay calm and keep your opinions to yourself."

Ron rubbed his eyes and nodded slowly, still looking somewhat dazed. "Alright, alright. I'll try."

Daphne gave him a reassuring nod, but then her gaze fell on Ron's black eye. "What happened to you?" she asked, concern slipping into her voice.

Ron sighed heavily, wincing slightly as he touched his bruised eye. "Oh, just a scuffle in the common room last night," he said wearily. "Some prats believed Harry was a complete nutter, so me and Neville decided to show them what we thought. Only, Neville's never been much of a fighter, so it was really mostly me."

Daphne's eyes softened with sympathy. "Sounds like you had a rough night. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"Eh, I'm alright," he shrugged, before yawning. "Poor Nev's still in the hospital wing."

Unable to respond, Daphne merely nodded. By the time they reached the classroom, she couldn't shake the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what promised to be an unsettling lesson.

As Daphne followed Ron into the classroom, she quickly scanned the room for familiar faces. Susan Bones was seated at the front, her posture tense and attentive. Vincent Crabbe, sitting at the back, looked up with hopeful eyes as she passed, clearly expecting her to join him.

She subtly shook her head, and Goyle, seated nearby, shot her a glare, which she ignored. Daphne settled into the seat beside Ron, who had already slumped over the desk, asleep.

Her gaze shifted to the front of the room as Professor Umbridge entered, commanding silence with her presence. Daphne noted with disdain that, like the night before, Umbridge's outfit was a particularly garish shade of pink, a stark contrast to the darker robes worn by the other professors.

Umbridge took her place at the front of the classroom, her beady eyes sweeping over the students with a scrutinising glance. Her smile was too wide, too eager, and it seemed to stretch uncomfortably across her face as she began to speak in a high-pitched, sing-song voice.

"Good morning, class," she chirped. "I trust you all had a restful night and are ready to start the day fresh. I am Professor Umbridge, and I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

She paused, as if expecting a reaction, but the classroom remained silent, the students exchanging uneasy glances.

"Now, now," she continued, her voice dropping to a more soothing tone, "I know this subject can be a bit... intimidating. But don't you worry! We're going to have a splendid time together, learning all about the wonderful, enchanting world of magic." She glanced around the room as if expecting everyone to agree.

Daphne noticed how Umbridge's gaze lingered on Ron, who was still rubbing his eyes, and then on Susan Bones. Umbridge seemed to delight in the discomfort of the students, her grin widening as she took in their reactions.

"Let's all settle down," Umbridge said, her voice taking on an overly sweet edge. "We're going to start with some introductory material. I want to make sure everyone understands just how special this class is. Wands away and quills out, please."

There was a shuffling of parchment and a clatter of wands as the students complied. Umbridge began to pace slowly in front of the class, her heels clicking on the stone floor with each step.

"Now, I'm sure you're all aware that our previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professors were rather... unconventional," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. "We all know how some of them had rather extreme methods, focusing on far-fetched theories and outlandish practices."

She held up the pastel-coloured textbook with a flourish, as though presenting a prized possession. "This is your guide for the year. It's been carefully vetted to ensure that it follows a Ministry-approved curriculum that is rigorous, well-structured, and, most importantly, safe. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard with her wand, causing the words to appear in neat chalk script:

'Course Aims'.

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes, the room was filled with the scratching sound of quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims, she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge, her voice taking on a sharp edge after a dull murmur of assent rippled through the class. "When I ask you a question, I would like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room in unison.

"Good," said Professor Umbridge, her smile returning. "I would like you to turn to page five and read 'Chapter One: Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk."

With that, she left the blackboard and settled herself into the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them closely with her beady, toad-like eyes. The classroom fell into a hush as the students began to read, the only sound the occasional rustle of pages and the soft scratching of quills.

Several silent minutes passed. Next to her, Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. In front of her, Susan Bones had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge, her hand raised in an unspoken plea for attention, while Umbridge pointedly looked elsewhere.

As more time passed, Daphne noticed that Susan's silent protest had drawn the attention of other students. The tedium of the chapter made it nearly impossible to focus, and gradually, more and more students began to watch Susan's determined but futile effort to catch Umbridge's eye.

The collective frustration in the room grew palpable, and soon more than half the class was watching Susan rather than reading the dull text. Realising the situation could no longer be ignored, Professor Umbridge finally turned her gaze towards Susan.

"Did you have a question about the chapter, dear?" she asked, her tone syrupy sweet, as though she had only just noticed Susan's raised hand.

"Not about the chapter, no," Susan replied, her voice tight with frustration.

"Well, we're reading right now," Professor Umbridge said, her tone dripping with condescension. "If you have other queries, we can address them at the end of the class."

"It's not about the book, Professor, but it is about your course aims," Susan insisted firmly.

"Well, Ms. Bones," Professor Umbridge sighed, "do go ahead. But please, make it brief. We have a lot to cover."

Susan took a deep breath. "Could you expand upon what your third course aim includes please, Professor?"

Professor Umbridge's smile seemed to falter slightly at the corners. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly as she addressed just Susan. "Ah, the third aim. 'Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use,' you mean?"

"Yes, Professor," Susan confirmed.

"Well," Umbridge said, in a clipped tone, "the aim is to ensure you have a theoretical understanding of when and how defensive magic is appropriate. We'll focus on understanding the theoretical frameworks and the Ministry-approved guidelines for when defensive magic can and should be used."

"Will this be where we work on refining our practical spell work?" A voice called out from the back.

"Your hand is not up, Mr. MacMillan!" Professor Umbridge called, as she turned her gaze toward the source of the interruption.

Ernie MacMillan shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled. "I just wanted to know if we'd be doing any practical work."

"Mr. MacMillan, this class is dedicated solely to theoretical knowledge and Ministry-approved guidelines," Umbridge said, her tone dripping with disdain. "Why, I can't imagine a situation where you would need to cast defensive spells in my classroom."

Ernie shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing with embarrassment. "But isn't it important for us to practise the spells as well? Otherwise, how will we know if we're using them correctly in real situations?"

"You will find that a firm understanding over the theoretical workings is all that is required for practical applications," she said coldly. "It's almost as if you expect to be attacked at every turn, Mr. MacMillan. This is Hogwarts, not some battleground."

Resolutely, Daphne stomped on Ron's foot, as the boy looked like he was about to explode. Instead, she raised her own hand, daring the Professor to pick her.

Professor Umbridge's eyes landed on Daphne with a hint of surprise. "Yes, Miss?"

"Greengrass, Professor. Daphne Greengrass," Daphne replied, before taking a deep breath. "What about the fact that we've been in danger here in the past? Couldn't it be argued that having practical skills in defensive magic would be crucial for our safety?"

Umbridge's smile remained fixed, though Daphne noted her eyes narrowing slightly. "Miss Greengrass, the history of Hogwarts has seen many challenges, but the Ministry has ensured such challenges will not be repeated."

"Like how the Ministry defended us by surrounding us with soul-sucking demons?" a dark-skinned Gryffindor boy called out from the back of the room.

Umbridge's eyes flashed with irritation as she turned sharply towards the voice. "And you are?" she demanded, ignoring the fact that he had not raised his hand.

"Dean Thomas, ma'am," he replied firmly, "and those Dementors almost killed my friend Neville when they were here! How are you expecting us to use that 'theoretical understanding' against more Dementors?"

"Mr. Thomas, I assure you that the Ministry's measures are both effective and adequate. The presence of Dementors was an unfortunate circumstance that the Ministry is working to rectify."

"But you can't just ignore that they're a real threat!" Dean shot back. "How can we be prepared if we're not taught how to actually defend ourselves?"

"That is enough!" Umbridge snapped, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?"

"I don't know," Ron began belligerently, but Daphne cut across him, sensing the escalation.

"Fenrir Greyback?" she said instead, desperately pulling a name the Professor couldn't easily refute.

Umbridge's face twitched at the mention of the werewolf's name, her expression momentarily betraying her irritation. "Miss Greengrass, while I appreciate your concern, I assure you the Ministry has that man firmly under control, and it is not necessary for you to worry about such matters."

"Didn't Greyback bite a kid two weeks ago?" Ernie asked, prompting a murmur of agreement from the class.

"What about Sirius Black? He broke into the school in our third year," Daphne continued, ensuring Umbridge didn't have time to retort. "A theoretical understanding wouldn't have helped us then."

"And I suppose you consider yourself powerful enough to take down such an infamous Death Eater, Ms. Greengrass?" Umbridge mocked.

"So what, we're supposed to just accept the fact that the bad guys can just kill us? We aren't meant to fight back at all?" Dean Thomas asked incredulously.

Umbridge's face reddened with irritation. "Mr. Thomas, this is not about indulging in fantasies of heroism. The Ministry has strict protocols in place to deal with threats. What you need is to trust that these measures are sufficient and focus on understanding the guidelines we provide."

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. "But what if those measures aren't enough? We can't just sit here and hope for the best. We need to be prepared!"

"Mr. Thomas," Umbridge snapped, her voice cold and authoritative, "this class is about understanding the principles laid out by the Ministry. You will learn what is deemed necessary for your safety. There is nothing out there that the Ministry does not have well in hand."

"Yeah, like You-Know-Who?" Ron jeered, before Daphne could stop him. Groaning, Daphne closed her eyes in defeat, trying to block out the sight of Umbridge's triumphant smirk.

"Now, let me make this quite plain." Umbridge began, her voice having returned to its sickly sweet tone, "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard is at large again. This is a lie."

Dean Thomas, still seething from earlier, raised his hand again, ignoring Umbridge's attempt to dismiss the issue. "Professor Umbridge, with all due respect, how can you be sure it's a lie?"

"Mr. Thomas, the Ministry is the ultimate authority on these matters. They have conducted a thorough investigation and have determined that there is no truth to these alarming claims. It is not your place to question the Ministry's judgement or the veracity of their findings."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over the room, as if daring anyone else to challenge her. "The Ministry's decisions are based on comprehensive evidence and the highest level of expertise. You are here to learn what has been deemed necessary for your safety, not to entertain fanciful notions of danger."

"Professor Umbridge, if You-Know-Who is truly dead and no longer a threat, where is he buried?" Daphne asked, deciding to seize the opportunity to make Umbridge's position look questionable.

Umbridge's eyes narrowed, her façade of calm faltering for a split second before she regained her sickly sweet smile. "Miss Greengrass, such details are not pertinent to your education and are, frankly, none of your concern."

Daphne pressed on, undeterred. "But isn't it important for us to know these details if we're to be assured of our safety? Shouldn't there be some clear evidence that the danger is truly over?"

Umbridge's smile stiffened, before she moved to her desk. "Very well then, we will discuss the events that ended that awful war."

Immediately, the class sat up, finally fully paying attention to the woman's words.

"The remains of the Dark Lord were indeed found," Umbridge began, her tone taking on a matter-of-fact quality. "After his defeat, his body was discovered in the ruins of the Potter house, following his attack. The Ministry, of course, took immediate action. His remains were transported to the Ministry, where they were thoroughly examined and then publicly destroyed as a demonstration of the end of his threat."

She glanced around the room, daring anyone to question the validity of her account. "The process was conducted under the personal supervision of the then head of the Department of Mysteries to ensure there was no doubt about the demise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and to reassure the public of their safety."

Umbridge's gaze then settled on Daphne. "I trust this clarifies the matter. The Ministry has handled the situation with the utmost diligence and transparency. So, for your homework, you are to research the events of October 31st, 1981, and write an essay that highlights how effectively and efficiently the Ministry managed the end of the war and the subsequent aftermath… Dismissed."

As Daphne rose to leave, Umbridge placed her hands on Daphne's desk and leaned in close, her warm breath brushing against Daphne's face. "And you can inform Mr. Potter, Miss Greengrass, that he will be serving detention with me tomorrow for unauthorised absence."

"But Professor, Harry isn't even at the school. How am I supposed to tell him?" Daphne protested.

"He shall be serving double detention then!" Umbridge snapped, her voice rising in anger before she stormed away.

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