"Ahem, ahem." Professor Umbridge coughed, the same stupid cough she used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term.
Professor McGonagall pretended not to hear and didn't even look at Umbridge.
Seamus handed Harry his essay, and Harry picked it up to see—"O".
Transformation Spell, not exactly a walk in the park?
"See the rat." Harry jested to Ron, "Do you feel familiar, mate? Remember a few years ago, you cuddled that rat like it was your treasure. What's its name again? Banban, right..."
Harry's words triggered Ron's unpleasant memories, which he had almost forgotten, but Harry's remark brought them rushing back.
God, I actually slept snuggling that fat rat, especially when it was a bald old man...
What was I thinking!
"Stop it!" he growled quietly.
"Oh." Harry teased sarcastically, "Isn't it the time to cuddle him and call 'Banban'? Or have you forgotten those sleepless nights without the rat?"
Ron glared at Harry, gritting his teeth. If they weren't in Professor McGonagall's class, Ron swore he would have shown Harry a thing or two.
"Alright, students, please listen carefully—Dean Thomas, if you mess with that rat again, I'll give you detention—now, most of you can successfully recite the Disappearing Spell to make the snail vanish, even if some are still left with bits of snail shell, you've all grasped the essence of this spell. Today, we will..."
She didn't finish her sentence before being interrupted.
"Ahem, ahem." Professor Umbridge coughed.
Professor McGonagall's face darkened, looking incredibly intimidating as she stared at Umbridge and asked, "What's the matter? You better really be feeling unwell, Lady Umbridge."
These words were quite blunt, not addressing as Professor, but directly calling her Lady.
Umbridge obviously realized Professor McGonagall's displeasure but didn't care, for her backer was the Ministry of Magic.
"Professor, I just wanted to know if you received my note, informing you of the investigation date and time regarding your class..."
"Obviously I've received it, otherwise I'd have asked what you were doing in my classroom." Professor McGonagall coldly glanced at Umbridge, her face growing even darker: "I hope certain people, if they wish to stay peacefully in class, would best behave courteously."
Having said that, Professor McGonagall continued addressing the students: "As I mentioned earlier: today, we will practice the harder Mouse Disappearance Spell. Okay, here, the Disappearing Spell—"
"Ahem, ahem."
"I don't understand," Professor McGonagall turned towards Umbridge, coldly speaking with anger, "how you plan to learn about my usual teaching methods if you keep interrupting me? You must know, I generally don't allow anyone to speak while I'm talking."
Umbridge looked as if she had been slapped in the face, saying nothing, and instead tidied up the parchment on her clipboard, angrily scribbling away.
Professor McGonagall showed indifference and once again addressed the class: "As I mentioned: The Disappearing Spell becomes increasingly difficult as the animals needing to disappear become more complex. Snails are invertebrates and not very challenging, whereas mice are mammals requiring much higher skill. This magic can't be achieved if your mind is preoccupied with dinner. All right—the spell has been taught, let's see how you all perform?"
"I've actually been wondering," Ron whispered to Harry, "what would happen if the Disappearing Spell were used on a person, like on that pink toad..."
He was just pondering, but Harry immediately raised his hand.
"Potter."
Professor McGonagall's expression softened as she looked at her favorite student, her mood slightly improved.
"Professor." Harry stood up, sneakily glancing at Professor Umbridge, and asked: "I want to know, where does the vanished thing go?"
Professor McGonagall's expression became even more gentle, nodding as she replied, "Into nonexistence, that is, into everything."
"Then what if..." Harry glanced at Professor Umbridge again, "is there a counter curse for the spell, in case the spell accidentally hits someone, would there be a counter curse to bring them back?"
"To my knowledge, there isn't." Professor McGonagall regretfully stated, "But wizards can, at most, cause larger animals to disappear; it's much harder to make someone disappear from the world... Of course, maybe you possess that ability, Mr. Potter."
Harry glanced again at Professor Umbridge, frightening her enough to prop up her clipboard to block Harry's view.
She had no doubt, this unruly little scoundrel, Potter, would definitely try to use the Disappearing Spell on her and then claim it was an accident.
"You've scared her, mate." Ron gleefully remarked, sneaking a glance at Professor Umbridge who didn't look pleased.
"I intend to try." Harry said, wiping his magic wand, "but not just yet, hoping she'll act sensibly and not truly anger me."
This class, Umbridge behaved very obediently, unlike in Professor Trelawney's class where she wandered around, she remained seated, quietly writing.
Not sure if she was scared by Harry or knew Professor McGonagall wouldn't allow her to act indiscriminately, so she sat quietly.
When Professor McGonagall finally asked the class to pack up and leave, Umbridge stood up with a face that was dark and intimidating.
"Hey, it's starting." Ron said, picking up a long, squirming rat tail and tossing it into the box passed by Lavender Brown.
"Stay." Harry held onto Ron trying to leave, and called to Hermione across Ron, "Let's stay here and see what they'll say."
The three of them sat neatly in a row, eyes fixed unblinkingly on Professor Umbridge and Professor McGonagall, observing.
Seeing the three of them not leaving, Professor Umbridge's expression was gloomy.
"You should be dismissed." She reminded them.
"My leg hurts." Harry nonchalantly replied, "I'll rest a bit before leaving, they both stayed to care for me—a Gryffindor Class Prefect taking care of a classmate with a sore leg, very Gryffindor, right?"
Professor McGonagall suddenly felt as if James Potter had resurrected.
This nonchalant demeanor resembled his dead father so much.
"Since your leg is hurt, stay then." Professor McGonagall concluded decisively.
Neither Professor McGonagall nor Mr. Potter was someone Umbridge could afford to provoke, so she wisely chose to ignore them.
She turned her head to Professor McGonagall, asking: "How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"
"It will be thirty-nine years this December." Professor McGonagall replied stiffly, snapping her handbag shut.
Umbridge jotted down a few notes.
"Very well," she said, "you'll receive your investigation results within ten days."
Without further ado, she rushed out without looking back, as if trying to evade a plague.
At this point, Professor McGonagall suddenly turned to Harry, coldly asking: "Potter, is your leg better now? Or should I send you to Madam Pomfrey's school hospital?"
"Oh, it's all healed, Professor." Harry stood up, giving Professor McGonagall a thumbs up: "Good job, Professor, truly our Gryffindor head!"