Surprisingly, Madam Umbridge refrained from docking points from Harry or assigning him detention during their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. If one could even call it a lesson, considering they spent the entire double period reading a dull chapter from an equally uninteresting textbook. Contrary to that, Professor Quirrell, despite his shortcomings, had managed to convey the same concepts in just a few sentences, complete with a practical demonstration. And now, it seemed, there was only a tedious theory to endure.
Harry found it suspicious that despite her evident animosity towards him, the senior undersecretary was holding back. Perhaps she was calculating and waiting for him to make the slightest mistake, ensuring her actions against him would appear justified.
Yet, the way Professor Umbridge "taught" DADA was more alarming than the ministerial witch herself; she ranked alongside Lockhart—whose lessons, at the very least, were entertaining. Clearly, the most sensible course of action was for the students to independently seek out the knowledge they truly needed.
Thus, on Saturday afternoon, the first meeting of the Defense Studies group for the year was convened. It was largely organizational; one lesson was hardly sufficient to evaluate their new DADA professor, though it was clear she wouldn't provide any worthwhile instruction. Who, after all, requires third-year students to spend an entire lesson reading a monotonous text about topics they could easily grasp in a matter of ten minutes two years prior? Besides, Umbridge was conducting classes for all four houses at once.
The DS members unanimously agreed that if matters didn't improve, they would operate independently as they had the previous year. Furthermore, they planned to draft an open letter to the educational committee detailing the situation at Hogwarts, in hopes of securing a competent instructor.
~/ *** \~
The second week of classes had been uneventful for Harry. Both he and his classmates were still adjusting to the rhythms of Hogwarts life, leaving most of their time occupied with classes or the usual mountain of homework. Friday arrived, bringing with it two relatively pleasant lessons before lunch, and once again, it was time for DADA. Madam Umbridge insisted that her class greet her "properly," and although they complied, it was clear that enthusiasm was lacking—yet it seemed to please her.
"Hem, hem… Now, children, let's see how well you've absorbed the material." The witch scanned her list for her target. Any student privy to her disdain for Harry knew exactly whom she would aim for. "Aha, Potter!"
"Yes?" Harry replied from his seat, feeling the weight of her stare. She locked her gaze on him for what felt like an eternity before finally letting out a sigh.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your dreadful manners, Potter. Let's try that again... Potter!" Harry, feeling the pressure, racked his brain for the appropriate response. Angling for a polite echo of her earlier greeting, he ventured,
"Yes, Professor Umbridge." The moment hung in silence, a tension thick enough to slice. Finally, she exhaled.
"Better, but still lacking, Potter. Another ten points from Gryffindor. Shall we try again? Potter!" Harry desperately sought the missing element; he was determined not to let the house lose more points. Then it hit him: he was still seated. Most Hogwarts professors permitted them to answer from their chairs, but Umbridge clearly was not among them. Flushing with determination, he rose from his seat.
"Yes, Professor Umbridge," he said, standing tall.
"See? That wasn't too hard, was it?" she replied, lacing her sickly-sweet tone with unyielding scrutiny. "Now, Potter, enlighten me on the underlying principles of defensive magic according to Wilbert Slinkhard."
Harry groaned inwardly; she expected him to recite the text word for word. As if he could recall anything from that insipid first chapter. Resigning himself to the task, he began his response, elongating it as best he could.
"Not bad, Potter," she said at length, though the disapproval in her tone was palpable. "But perhaps you should review your homework more diligently next time. Sit down." With that curt dismissal, it was clear she had hoped to catch him out and inflict further penalties. "Now that we've wasted ample time, let's commence our second lesson." With a flick of her wand, the blackboard bore the words "The Principles of Defensive Magic." "The first chapter was merely an introduction; now we dive into the depth of the subject. Please turn to page twenty-eight and read the second chapter." And so, yet another monotonous lesson began.
As the second DADA class dragged on, Harry, like his peers, found himself bored senseless. Glancing at his watch, he noted there were still fifteen minutes left until freedom. He sighed, snapping the watch shut and directing his stare blankly at the pages before him, too fatigued to even attempt to absorb the text. Unfortunately, his sigh had been too conspicuous for Umbridge's liking.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting class, Potter," the toad-like witch declared, her gaze unwavering. Stunned by her sudden attention and unsure of how to respond, Harry's reflex took over.
"What!" he exclaimed, louder than intended, which made her smirk with delight.
"I see you still fail to grasp the importance of decorum in my classroom, Mr. Potter. Perhaps taking points isn't sufficient. Would you prefer a more substantial punishment?" Her tone dripped with saccharine malice. "I've heard you enjoy Quidditch, Potter. How about a suspension from flying?"
Harry clenched his teeth and stayed silent; arguing would only worsen the situation. But he intended to bring this to Professor McGonagall's attention the moment he could.
At last, the dreadful lesson concluded. Eager to discuss his predicament, Harry sought out Professor McGonagall. After a brief search, he found her in the corridor leading to the Gryffindor common room and the Deputy Headmistress's office. Unfortunately, his head of house met his concerns with indifference, asserting that if Madam Umbridge had imposed a punishment, it was justified. To add insult to injury, she assigned him detention with Snape for squandering all the points Gryffindor had accumulated over the past two weeks.
To make matters worse, after McGonagall let him go, Harry ran into Oliver Wood, who somehow already knew about his flying ban. This led to yet another lecture about his shortcomings from his former Quidditch captain.
~/ *** \~
The following day, Saturday, was no better for Harry. Thanks to Professor McGonagall's edict, he faced a full day of detention with Snape, who made sure to keep him scrubbing cauldrons—without even a chance of lunch. A house-elf delivered his meager meal during the brief respite he was granted.
As if the backbreaking labor accompanied by Snape's taunts weren't enough, Harry also had to miss the Defense Studies meeting. While he was certain his friends would share the important information with him later, it couldn't compare to experiencing it firsthand.
Physically and mentally spent, he sank into the nearest armchair, oblivious to Katie's arrival until she wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace. She, too, appeared exhausted from Oliver's relentless trials and a grueling five-hour practice session aimed at bringing Fay Dunbar, a pureblood witch with a passion for Quidditch, up to speed.
Quietly, they sat together, drawing strength from one another until Katie finally spoke.
"Harry…" she began softly, pulling him closer. "Tomorrow is Hogsmeade day. Will you go with me?"
"Like a date?" he replied, igniting a smile on her face.
"Exactly—like a date."
"Sure," he answered with a casual shrug. Katie responded by snuggling into his neck, her embrace warm and comforting.
As the clock chimed ten, she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before making her way to the girls' dormitories. Sighing, Harry decided he should turn in as well if he wanted to be well-rested for the following day.
~/ *** \~
The next morning, as usual, Harry woke up early. After completing his exercise routine and delving into his medical studies—while most Gryffindors still slumbered—he finally closed his tome around nine o'clock, when students began trickling down from the dorms. Spotting Katie, he set aside his book and greeted her as they walked hand-in-hand to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Breakfast buzzed with excitement as third-years speculated about Hogsmeade, eliciting laughter and spirited stories from the older students.
While eating, Harry noticed Ronald Weasley casting jealous glares at both Oliver Wood and Fay Dunbar. It seemed Ron had also tried out for seeker but hadn't made the cut, which he felt was unfair. In truth, Harry mused, he didn't think Ron had the skills anyway—thankfully, Oliver was selecting players based on talent, not favoritism.
After breakfast, Harry and Katie joined their fellow students as they made their way to the front doors at Hogwarts. The carriages awaited, ready to transport them to Hogsmeade. Those who hadn't passed their OWLs needed to hand over their signed permission slips to Professor McGonagall before leaving. As for the NEWT-level students, they were free to roam unless expressly prohibited.
Once Katie had submitted her slip, it was Harry's turn. As he handed his to Professor McGonagall, she hesitated.
"Mr. Potter, I must remind you that you cannot sign your own permission slips," she said sternly, but Harry remained unfazed.
"According to the regulations, a permission slip must be signed by an adult relative or guardian for it to be valid." His headmistress raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And I happen to be my own relative." With that, he revealed the Potter ring he wore. Many moments passed as Professor McGonagall recognized the familial emblem.
"Very well, Mr. Potter," she relented. "You may proceed."
"Harry? You're a lord?" Katie whispered, attempting to keep their conversation discreet, aware of his aversion to being the center of attention.
"Yes, since the start of the summer," he replied. "Does this change anything between us?" he inquired, meeting her gaze.
"Not at all, silly," she reassured him, leaning in for a light kiss. This earned them a knowing glance from Professor McGonagall.
"That's my Katie," Harry smiled as he grasped her hand. "Now, shall we explore the village?"
Hogsmeade was a new adventure for Harry, despite his frequent visits to Diagon Alley. The small village was bustling with around a hundred houses, primarily shops ranging from Honeydukes' magical sweets to a branch of Ollivanders. There were even owl-post stations and various lively pubs, the most popular of which was the renowned "Three Broomsticks."
With Katie as his knowledgeable guide, Harry immersed himself in the delights of Hogsmeade. She shared various anecdotes, her excitement infectious, and it didn't hurt that he treated her to a generous portion of Honeydukes chocolate along the way.
Lunchtime found them at the Three Broomsticks. Though crowds of Hogwarts students filled the pub, they managed to secure their own table. To their surprise, they spotted Draconica and her friends at the neighboring table.
As they exchanged greetings, Harry noticed an air of distance around Draconica, contrasting sharply with Astoria's flirtatious glances directed at him. In this more relaxed atmosphere, he found it easier to peer beyond Draconica's defenses. What he glimpsed surprised him. It appeared she was contending with conflicting feelings, almost as if she desired something beyond mere friendship. It offered him some relief—at least she didn't suddenly detest him.
~/ *** \~
By four o'clock that afternoon, Harry and Katie returned to Hogwarts, his mind still swirling with the day's discoveries and experiences in Hogsmeade. With the village explored, he acknowledged that his future visits would likely center around acquiring necessities, enjoying dates, or simply escaping the castle's confines for a while.
Yet there was one more task awaiting him: tonight, Susan would send off their open letter to the educational committee regarding their urgent concerns. He needed to deliver the signatures from Gryffindor, and with the strong support from the house, Harry felt optimistic that they could rid themselves of Umbridge. Perhaps they would finally secure a competent professor for DADA.