"I don't know how you can stand it, it's horrible," she said bluntly, dumping way too much dragon dung on the Snargaluff seedlings so that they writhed and screamed miserably.
"You get used to it," Harry shrugged. "It's been like this since first year for me."
Burns let out a sigh; she really felt she'd had enough—her classmates kept whispering behind her back about her uncle, aunt and cousin's deaths. She knew they meant well, but it still hurt unbearably.
It wasn't just the students' mood that had changed; now you could often see two or three teachers talking in hushed, tense voices in the corridors, falling silent the moment a student came near.
"Clearly they can't talk freely in the staff room anymore," Hermione muttered, as she, Harry and Ron came upon Professor McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout gathered outside the Spell classroom. "Umbridge is in there."
"You reckon they've got new information?" Ron asked, glancing back at the three teachers.
"Even if they do, we're not allowed to hear it, are we?" Ron said angrily. "Educational Decree… what number are we up to now?"
The morning after the Azkaban breakout made the papers, a new notice appeared on the House bulletin board: by order of the Hogwarts Senior Investigator, teachers were henceforth forbidden to provide students with any information unrelated to the subjects they taught.
The above regulations comply with the Twenty-Sixth Education Order.
Signed: Senior Investigator Dolores Jane Umbridge.
This latest decree sparked a lot of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan pointed out to Umbridge that under the new decree she couldn't scold Fred and George for playing Exploding Snap in the back.
"Exploding Snap has nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's information unrelated to the subject you teach!"
However, that evening, when Lee Jordan appeared in the common room, the back of his hand was raw and bloody.
"It was my fault you got dragged into it, Lee," Fred said, patting Lee Jordan's shoulder consolingly.
Jordan rubbed his hand, grimacing. "That old toad really knows how to torture people. Bloody hell, I think we ought to teach her a lesson."
"What do you have in mind?" George asked, clearly intrigued.
"We can't just let her torture me for nothing. I've got to come up with a proper way to get back at her," Jordan said, fuming.
The few of them huddled together, launching into an intense discussion on how to deal with Umbridge.
"We've got to think of something," Ron muttered. "We can't just sit back and watch Umbridge mess around in the school. I've heard people saying she's getting ready to sack a teacher to make an example—everyone knows who she's planning to fire."
"Poor Trelawney, right?" Hermione let out a cold little laugh. "She's never been able to stand Trelawney. I'm sure this time she's going straight for Professor Trelawney."
"I can't imagine her targeting anyone else," Ron joked. "It's not like she's going to go after Professor McGonagall, is she? But seriously, you lot, we can't just let Umbridge carry on like this. We have to find a way to boot her out!"
"Soon," Harry said with a mysterious smile. "Just hang in there a few more days. Once we get to the final stage, we can clean that old toad Umbridge right out of Hogwarts."
"Really?" Ron asked skeptically.
"Of course," Harry said gently. "We've got other things to do in the meantime, like the upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After what just happened, I'm sure everyone's desperate to learn Defense properly to protect themselves."
Things were exactly as Harry had said; in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the students showed one hundred and twenty percent enthusiasm.
But nobody's progress was as obvious as Neville's. The news that the man who tortured his parents had escaped had triggered a strange, even slightly frightening change in him.
In fact, in Defense Against the Dark Arts he barely spoke at all, just buried himself in relentlessly practising every Magic Spell Harry taught. His round face was set in a hard line; he ignored injuries and mishaps, working harder than anyone else in the room.
His improvement was so fast it was almost scary. When Harry taught a Repel Spell that could blast a target backwards, only Hermione mastered it before Neville did.
"Nice work, mate," Harry said approvingly, praising Neville.
Neville nodded seriously, wiped the sweat from his face, and went straight back to practising spells.
"He's improving really fast," Hermione murmured at the side, while also keeping her own mind taut and grinding away at the spells, determined not to let Neville overtake her.
The atmosphere in the classroom visibly tightened; nobody wanted to be left behind—especially after seeing Neville work that hard, they all felt a new sense of urgency.
Maybe this was what they called the 'catfish effect': with someone like that stirring up the waters, it was practically impossible not to take things seriously in class.
Draco was also extremely focused. He clenched his teeth and kept at it, swearing silently to himself that there was no way he was going to let Neville leave him in the dust!
January passed frighteningly fast, and before anyone realized, February had already arrived, bringing slightly warmer, wetter weather and the second Hogsmeade trip of the school year.
Watching Valentine's Day draw closer day by day, Harry was feeling a bit troubled.
Valentine's Day in 1996 fell on a Wednesday, which was really inconvenient, and more annoyingly, Valentine's Day wasn't a statutory holiday, so Hogwarts didn't have to give them the day off.
Which meant that if he wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day properly, he'd have to ask his teachers for leave, or just skip class altogether.
On a morning in early February, Harry was swallowing mouthfuls of cereal when Anne suddenly sat down beside him.
"Have you decided who you're spending Valentine's Day with?" Anne asked softly, as a bowl of the same cereal Harry was eating and a glass of milk appeared in front of her.
It wasn't that she had to eat the same thing as Harry; it was just that watching him tuck in so enthusiastically had made her appetite flare up.
"With you," Harry said around a mouthful of porridge. "Okay?"
Anne's expression froze.
"So you're planning to have me strung up by that Grindelwald woman in her Nimongard Castle and bled dry, is that it?" she asked, squinting at him.
Being a clever girl, Anne certainly understood how to steer clear of trouble.
Harry was very tempting, but considering there was a knife-sharpening European Vinegar King right next to him, she had to think carefully about the consequences of monopolizing Harry.
Being strung up at Nimongard Castle and having her blood drip out would probably be the good outcome; she might just as easily be hacked to pieces and tossed into the Alps to feed the wolves.
Vivi could chop people up too, couldn't she.
"How could she?" Harry said, poking at the dried fruit in his cereal with his spoon. "Vivi wouldn't be that brutal."
"Really?" Anne was almost laughing from sheer exasperation. This love‑brained Potter—did he seriously not know how vicious his Grindelwald really was at heart?
"At most she'd hang you upside down with Inverted Golden Bell for a whole day," Harry said casually. "Relax, Vivi has a sense of proportion."
This time Anne actually did laugh from anger.
Hung upside down with Inverted Golden Bell for a whole day? And that's 'not brutal'?
A normal person dangling upside down for half a day would be dead, for crying out loud!
"So what's your plan then? Spend it with Grindelwald?" Anne pressed.
"That won't work either." Harry sighed. "If I spend the holiday alone with Vivi, then Cassandra will get upset… the least I can do is keep things fair for everyone."
"Then just spend it together, all of you."
Anne regretted the words the instant they left her mouth.
What a big mouth I've got.
Wasn't that just handing Harry an excuse on a platter?
And sure enough, the moment Harry heard what she said, his worries evaporated. He brightened and said happily, "Great, it's settled then. We'll spend the holiday together—"