As they made it outside, hot on their heels was Umbridge as she followed them down the stone steps and across the damp lawn towards Professor Grubbly-Plank, clearly developing a sharp interest in the fifth-years. She began speaking to the temporary instructor the exact moment she pulled beside her, her sickly-sweet voice carrying clearly over the crisp autumn air.
The four Gryffindors slowed their pace by a large wooden table, listening intently.
"You do not usually teach this core class, is that correct?" Umbridge asked, her quill hovering precariously over her leather clipboard.
They stopped at the table of Bowtruckles, all of which were frantically grasping and scrambling around a pile of damp bark for woodlice.
"Quite correct," Professor Grubbly-Plank said heartily. She stood with her hands tucked behind her back, bouncing rhythmically on the balls of her feet as her pipe smoked gently. "I am simply a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."
"Hmm, I wonder..." Umbridge dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, but because Lucifer was standing right next to her, his sharp senses picked up the words with absolute, crystal clarity. "The Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any real information on the matter, Minerva. Can you tell me what exactly is the reason for Professor Hagrid's very extended 'leave of absence?"
"Afraid I can't," Grubbly-Plank said breezily, completely unbothered by the probing. "Don't know a single thing more than you do on the matter, to be frank. Got a brief owl from Dumbledore asking if I'd like a couple of weeks of teaching work. I accepted, and that's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started with the demonstration then?"
"Yes, please do," Umbridge said, her smile tightening as she scribbled rapidly upon her parchment.
She took a decidedly different tactical approach to this outdoor class, bypassing the front row to walk slowly among the students, questioning them abruptly on properties of various magical creatures.
She eventually marched straight up to Lucifer, demanding information on a 'Demiguise,' a rare, elusive beast found only in the Far East. Lucifer answered her rapid questions with a cool precision and a perfectly controlled temperament, showing zero flinch despite his deep disdain for the Inquisitor, who stood much, much shorter than his towering frame.
She must not have expected him to thoroughly know such gruesome details about the creature's pelt and hiding habits, because her pasty face instantly scrunched up in a flash of pure terror before she hurriedly retreated toward another desk.
After interrogating Dean Thomas regarding 'Murtlap' tentacles, Umbridge immediately pivoted to asking Professor Grubbly-Plank for her "objective" opinion on the school's management and support, searching for criticisms of Dumbledore.
"Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent," Grubbly-Plank said heartily, her pipe puffing out a neat cloud of smoke. "No, I am very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."
Umbridge, looking skeptical, noted this down and questioned Grubbly-Plank on her plans for the class, assuming Hagrid wouldn't return.
"Oh, I'll take them through the Creatures that most often come up in Ordinary Wizarding Level," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, gesturing to the table. "Not much left to do as far as that's concerned. They've already studied Unicorns and Nifflers with Hagrid. I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles next, make sure they can accurately recognize Crups and Knarls, you know... standard curriculum."
"Well, you seem to know what you're doing at any rate," Umbridge said, making a very loud, aggressive tick on her parchment. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class previously?"
Gregory Goyle let out a low, stupid grin from the back, and Draco Malfoy eagerly jumped at the opportunity to speak up, throwing his hand into the air. "That was me, Professor! I was brutally slashed across the arm by a rogue Hippogriff during our Third Year."
"A Hippogriff?" She gasped in faux-shock, her quill scribbling frantically against her clipboard. "In a third-year class?"
Hermione, fully expecting Harry to blow his temper, instinctively reached out to grab the sleeve of his robes to restrain him. But to her surprise, it was Lucifer who spoke up instead. His voice wasn't confrontational; it was perfectly casual, smooth, and informative.
"If you had paid any attention to what Hagrid explicitly said during that lesson, Malfoy, you would have completely avoided injury," Lucifer said carelessly, letting a tiny Bowtruckle crawl over his palm.
Umbridge turned her bulging eyes squarely onto him, her posture stiffening. "You think Mr. Malfoy here could have easily avoided the accident, Mr. Morningstar?"
"I do. Hippogriffs are intensely proud, majestic creatures. They don't take kindly to insults," Lucifer answered, looking straight down at the short Inquisitor with an unbothered calm that reminded him of a Muggle sci-fi film Star Wars, he had watched with Hermione at the Granger residence. "Malfoy here walked right up to the beast named Buckbeak and called him an 'ugly brute.' The creature naturally took offense to the slander. If he had simply followed instructions and refrained from insulting the Hippogriff, he would have been perfectly fine... The thing about Magical Creatures, Madam Inquisitor, is that you have to understand their primitive nature. Without that respect, you will get hurt."
Umbridge gave him a tightly strained, falsely sweet smile, her fingers twitching against her clipboard before she turned back to the instructor. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank. I think that is all the information I require here. You will be receiving the formal results of your evaluation within ten days."
"Jolly good," Grubbly-Plank said breezily.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and set off across the damp lawns, marching rigidly back up toward the stone steps of the castle.
xxxxxxx
Meanwhile, Dolores's short fingers were practically numb from hours of endlessly composing refusal letters and drafting petty notes for the teachers' upcoming inspections. For hours the previous night, she had devoted every single waking moment to inventing rejection letters.
She had even conducted today's earlier lessons as mandatory silent reading sessions simply to avoid interrupting her own paperwork, a move that further alienated and infuriated her students.
'If you hate teaching so much, why don't you just quit?! We actually want to learn proper practical magic!' the fifth-years fumed silently, though Umbridge never once glanced up from her desk to notice their burning glares. Her sheer stubbornness held strong through two full days of hand-cramping rejections without approving a single staff request; she was far too petty to use a modern 'Quick-Quotes Quill,' preferring her own heavy ink.
The Hogwarts professors, however, remained completely unfazed, engaging her in a brilliant state of endurance warfare.
Madam Hooch had escalated the battle that morning by separately requesting every single individual broomstick maintenance tool in the school's inventory, down to the individual bristles for the twigs. Those faculty members who lacked immediate Departmental needs simply assisted their colleagues in drafting more microscopic forms.
But Luna Lovegood deemed this passive resistance entirely insufficient. The Ravenclaw girl was rarely ever in a bad mood, but she had become deeply irritated because Umbridge had dared to stop her in the corridor and demand she remove her radish-shaped cork earrings.
Come that evening's 'Quibbler' delivery right before dinner, the drowsy, exhausted students inside the Great Hall suddenly became wide-eyed gossips the exact second the new headline landed on the Ravenclaw table. Ginny Weasley and Iris Stellamaris theatrically began reading the printed column aloud for the non-subscribers.
"Hogwarts Funds Overseer Embezzling? Students Forced to Supply Their Own Basic Equipment!" Ginny read out, her voice echoing off the stone walls.
"Sources reveal Hogwarts' historical educational standards are rapidly deteriorating under the First Financial Overseer's petty policies," Iris chimed in with a flawless, dramatic clarity.
"Oh?" Ron muttered from across the table, his ears perking up.
"Despite substantial Ministry and Board annual donations ensuring perfectly smooth operations---" Ginny continued, her voice rising over the clattering of the plates.
"Really?" A nearby third-year whispered.
"—Students are now forced to share a single school broomstick three-to-one during flying lessons post audit implementation!"
"Wow~!" Ginny's voice grew significantly louder, with Iris playing the perfect straight girl right beside her. Not just the Ravenclaw students, but the entire Great Hall could now hear them clearly, except perhaps for the most distant Slytherins near the doors.
Up at the high staff table, the noise died down completely. The teachers had stopped their private conversations too, listening intently as Ginny read the scathing layout with wide, highly amused smiles, occasionally turning their heads to admire Umbridge's increasingly thunderous, volatile expression.
The article's language grew ever more vicious, laying every single shred of systemic blame squarely at Umbridge's feet. Vast sums of gold were under her direct control, yet she flatly refused to spend a single Sickle on the children's education, raising serious legal questions about whether she had embezzled the state funds for her own pocket.
"STOP READING THAT TRASH!" Umbridge finally exploded, shrieking at the top of her lungs as she slammed her hands flat against the tablecloth.
Ginny heard her perfectly, exchanged a quick, wicked grin with Iris, and smoothly continued reading the article right to its absolute conclusion.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor! I explicitly told you to stop reading, girl! Are you entirely deaf?!" Umbridge screamed, her face turning an ugly shade of purple.
"I have never in my thirty-nine years heard of house points being legally deducted for reading a registered newspaper," Professor McGonagall retorted sharply from her seat, her voice cutting through the hall. Though she didn't manually return the points right then, truth be told, she couldn't find a proper, immediate justification to award the girls points under the Ministry's watchful eye, she quietly resolved to make it up through other Gryffindor students later in the week.
Umbridge stormed out of the Great Hall, her boots slamming against the flagstones, knowing she couldn't stop the rumors from spreading like wildfire through every year group. She could only retreat to her dark office to write frantic letters to Fudge.
Before she cleared the oak doors, she shot Luna Lovegood a long, penetrating look of pure hatred.
Anyone with a basic brain knew about the direct connection between 'The Quibbler' and the Lovegood family. Umbridge refused to believe Xenophilius hadn't orchestrated this specific media strike.
Luna seemed to sense the toxic gaze, turning her head to meet Umbridge's venomous stare with a serene, polite smile. 'So what if you know it was us? What exactly can your Ministry do about the truth?'
She slowly mouthed a few silent words that Umbridge clearly understood before the door slammed shut: 'Take a good long look, why don't you? I know your past...'
At dinner that evening, just before Harry had to leave for his grueling detention after Umbridge had stormed off, he finally decided to tell Hermione the truth about the nature of his punishments. He only confided in her because Lucifer had cut dinner short, mentioning he had a complex piece of magic to work on in his study.
"The detentions... she causes this," Harry said quietly. He reached into his robes and showed her the back of his right hand, exposing the angry white wound sliced deep into his skin.
"She can't do that!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice rising in immediate horror as her books nearly slipped from her grip. "Even in the last century, Hogwarts never allowed such barbaric, physical punishments! No, this is a severe violation! I'm going straight to Professor McGonagall this instant!"
"Don't rush off just yet, Hermione," Harry said, quickly holding up his hand to stop her momentum. "Honestly, I don't even feel the physical pain from the quill anymore. It would be a hell of a lot better if you could just find a hidden potion or essence for the scarring. If we fight her on this, she might just use another, less predictable method. Either way, Umbridge won't ever do anything obvious or legally traceable. Even if..... Professor McGonagall gets involved, it may not make a single shred of difference against an Educational Decree."
Hermione hesitated, her body trembling slightly as she looked torn between her trust in the rules and the bleeding reality in front of her.
"There's really only one way for us to deal with this machine," Harry continued, turning his face back to reassure her. "If you ever end up in a detention with her, don't fight her system. Just admit fault, stay completely quiet, and you might get off lightly without the ink."
"You're right," She agreed reluctantly, her voice a tight whisper as she looked at the scar. "Umbridge is a Ministry official and a professor; we can't openly defy her authority without a strategy. So... why don't you follow your own words, Harry?"
"No way!" Harry snapped, a sudden flash of his unyielding defiance flaring up in his eyes. "I'm not going to admit fault or say I'm a liar when I haven't done a single thing wrong! Voldemort is back!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione said sharply, picking up on his stubborn change of attitude. "What good will bleeding your hand dry do you against her?"
"But I'm not wrong!" He insisted, his voice rising as he adjusted his bag.
The old argument was about to reignite right on the bench. Realizing that even Hermione couldn't talk sense into Harry's stubborn pride, Ron, who had kept quiet the entire time, let out a low sigh. "Forget it, Hermione... but Harry, why on earth haven't you told Lucifer about this yet? You know he'll set her straight within seconds."
"That's exactly why I haven't told him," Harry muttered darkly, looking toward the door. "If Lucifer found out about the blood quill... his power would take this entire castle down in a blind fury before he launched a full assault on the Ministry itself. And that would only be after he manually tore Umbridge apart. I can't risk a war yet."
"Alright... I won't tell him either," Hermione said softly, her heart aching as she stared at the wound. "I'll have a concentrated essence of Murtlap tentacle ready for your hand the second you get back to the tower tonight." She wondered briefly if this messy-haired boy was her long-lost brother or something, given how completely, impossibly stubborn his logic was.
"Thank you, Hermione, truly," Harry said, a pained but deeply thankful expression behind his glasses before he turned and walked out into the Entrance Hall.
Hermione watched him leave before turning her face sharply toward Ron. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner, Ronald?"
"I promised Harry on my honor that I wouldn't say a single word to anyone unless he was ready to say it himself," Ron answered defensively, crossing his arms.
"That's about exactly what Lucifer says whenever he keeps a secret..." She sighed heavily. She and Ron stood up from the long table and made their way back up to the Gryffindor Tower. Upon returning through the portrait hole, Lucifer was nowhere to be seen near the crackling fire. "Where on earth do you think he went, Ron? Could you go check your dormitory room for me?"
"Yeah, hold on," Ron said, tramping up the stone stairs. He came back down a moment later, shaking his head. "He's not up there. His bed curtains are completely open, but there's no one in that room."
"He's probably hidden away in some random, empty classroom then..." Hermione lamented, sinking into an armchair as she looked down at her knees. "Why does he constantly do that?"
"Do what?" Ron asked as he pulled out his Herbology parchment to try and grind out his essay.
"Do something immense without telling me, or go somewhere secret without a single word... he did the exact same thing last year during the tasks, and I still have absolutely no idea what he was doing in the dark," Hermione sighed, her fingers curling around her bag as she wished with all her heart that he would finally trust her enough to tell her what he was planning.
xxxxxx
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