In just two weeks, Defence Against the Dark Arts had gone from the least popular subject to the one students most looked forward to.
Many students even remarked that Mrs Weasley was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor they'd ever had—better than Moody and Lupin combined.
Not only was she approachable in class, treating lessons like casual chats with children, but she also frequently rewarded students who showed significant improvement with homemade pastries.
Her lessons involved minimal lecturing, focusing instead on repeated practical exercises.
As she'd said on the first day, practice makes perfect. No student at Hogwarts was so inept that they couldn't master a few spells with enough repetition.
Even Neville, after hundreds of attempts, could now conjure a respectable whirlwind with the Ventus Charm.
Beyond that, Mrs Weasley's everyday use of magic had made her an idol to most of the school's female population.
While boys obsessed over power, girls paid attention to life's little details. Thanks to her, they'd learned countless practical spells for daily life—and couldn't help but envy the Weasleys for having such a kind, capable mother.
'They must be so happy,' they sighed.
The Weasleys, meanwhile, were on the verge of tears.
Having a professor for a mother at school was far from ideal—she could discipline them in dual capacities.
Especially a mother like Mrs Weasley, who reserved her gentleness for others and her strictness for her own children.
These two weeks had been the most subdued of Fred and George's school lives. No mischief, no pranks—only in the Gryffindor dormitory did they dare relax slightly.
Even then, they held back, terrified Angelina might report them to their mother.
Ginny wasn't faring much better. Previously, she'd been on her way to becoming the unofficial queen of the fourth years. Now, she'd transformed into a model of ladylike behaviour.
But Ron had it worst.
Mrs Weasley monitored his progress relentlessly in every lesson. Objectively, Ron was above average among Gryffindors—not bad at all.
But that depended on the comparison.
The twins, once they focused, learned frighteningly fast. Ginny, meanwhile, was one of the most naturally gifted students in the school.
This only highlighted Ron's mediocrity.
If not for the fact he'd literally come from her womb, Mrs Weasley might have suspected Mr Weasley of infidelity.
"Mum just confiscated another twenty Canary Creams and Puking Pastilles," George groaned in the kitchen. "When will this nightmare end?"
Wayne polished off a chicken wing and downed a glass of lemonade before replying, "I think it's great. Sacrifice a few for the happiness of the many."
"Once Mrs Weasley leaves, Umbridge will be back."
"I'd rather have Umbridge," Fred muttered gloomily. Their Skiving Snackboxes hadn't sold a single unit since their invention.
"Say that where others can hear you, and you'll get punched," Hermione remarked absently, placing a plate of sliced steak in front of Wayne.
It was past midnight. The twins had come to the kitchen for a snack, only to run into Wayne and Hermione on the same mission.
"Don't get your hopes up—Umbridge really is coming back soon," Wayne said suddenly.
Hermione's face fell. "Is she... really not in trouble?"
"Not much," Wayne shook his head, chewing a piece of beef. "Dig deeper, and you'd find plenty of shady dealings, but that's not happening anytime soon."
"Great." Now Hermione looked as dejected as the twins.
After eating, the twins sneaked back to Gryffindor Tower while Wayne took Hermione to the suitcase world for some... comfort.
...
A week later, the Daily Prophet published news of Umbridge's punishment.
As Wayne predicted, no major consequences, but not unscathed either.
The primary issue was financial misconduct. Umbridge hadn't directly pocketed funds, but she'd creatively justified extravagant personal expenses—like the hundreds of Galleons spent decorating her office.
While professors were technically allowed to use school funds for their offices, the extravagance was galling compared to shortages in teaching resources.
Her penalty? A tenfold fine paid to Hogwarts, plus removal as Financial Inspector.
There was also the minor matter of Wayne's report about her using Dark Artefacts to punish students.
The Daily Prophet didn't cover it, but the Ministry sent Dumbledore a report.
Umbridge claimed ignorance—she'd thought the blood quill was ordinary, and hadn't intentionally given it to Harry.
With no physical evidence (thanks to the counter-curse healing Harry's hand), Barty Crouch Jr. settled for a warning.
The real reason she escaped punishment? Her magical skills were too pathetic to convincingly craft such an item.
Thus, she slipped through.
Her reputation, however, was in tatters—exactly what Fudge wanted.
...
Hogwarts, Quidditch Pitch.
The Hufflepuff team trained hard, with Wayne idly observing their new lineup.
Henderson and the old guard had graduated, leaving Cedric as the only remaining player from Wayne's first year.
This being his final year, Cedric finally understood Isaiah's desperation for one last championship.
He'd held tryouts in the first week, determined to have the team ready before matches began.
As the sun set, painting the pitch in darkness, exhausted players finally touched down.
"D'you think we've got a shot this year?" Cedric asked after gulping pumpkin juice.
"Decent odds," Wayne said, collecting his Firebolt. "Watch out for Gryffindor—Ginny's insanely talented. Angelina's training her as the main Chaser."
Cedric paled. "Fred and George lied! They said Angelina was still the main Chaser!"
"Where'd you get your intel?"
Wayne smiled shyly. "From Ginny herself."
The team: "..."
This guy never stopped working his charms.
"Extra practice tomorrow," Cedric declared. "We'll drill double-teaming tactics. Talent means nothing against experience under pressure."
With Hufflepuff facing Gryffindor first, they had an advantage—Ginny wouldn't have a full season's experience yet.
The team cheered in agreement. Hard work now for glory later.
...
Finally, in the week before Halloween, Mrs Weasley left Hogwarts amid heartfelt farewells.
Umbridge returned the very next day—unchastened, almost smug.
She even dared to provoke Wayne.
"Mr Lawrence, if you dislike my lessons, you may leave. But if you stay, you will study the assigned material."
The class gasped. Apart from the first lesson, Umbridge had always ignored Wayne's presence.
"What if I want to stay... but not read your rubbish book?" Wayne closed the Quibbler, smirking.
"Then I must punish you," Umbridge said sweetly. "Fifty points from Hufflepuff. I hear you're going for a fifth consecutive House Cup?"
"Defy me further, and that dream ends here."
'Thank you,' Wayne thought gleefully, though his face showed anger as he returned to reading.
Umbridge, mistaking his reaction for defeat, smiled triumphantly.
During her absence, she'd studied Wayne thoroughly—through Slytherins and one Zacharias Smith.
She'd realised his influence stemmed from Hufflepuff's united support.
Her plan? Isolate him by turning his housemates against him.
But Umbridge fundamentally misunderstood Hufflepuffs.
She saw Wayne's 'rage' but missed the other badgers' blank stares—the look of utter resignation.
After class, before Wayne could act, Umbridge bowed deeply.
"Chief Warlock, please proceed at your leisure."
Wayne: "..."
Too compliant to retaliate against.
At least the system awarded him the "Umbridge's Training" achievement (+1000 points).
The name alone made him nauseous.
Umbridge straightened, unfazed. Humiliation no longer affected her.
She knew climbing higher would bury her past.
...
Halloween Eve arrived, bringing biting winds that stung like knives.
After classes, students hurried to the Great Hall for the feast.
A thousand floating pumpkins lit the room beneath a stormy ceiling where bats flitted.
Every ghost attended—even the elusive Grey Lady, who drew the Bloody Baron's unwavering gaze.
She ignored his silent pleas, watching Wayne chat with Susan at the Hufflepuff table instead.
Noticing her stare, Wayne shook his head slightly.
He'd researched Rowena Ravenclaw extensively but found nothing matching Helena's request.
Still, he'd uncovered something... concerning. But it wasn't the time to share.
The Grey Lady departed, disappointed.
Once everyone was seated, Dumbledore stood.
"Enjoy."
The feast began amidst music from a famous ghost band.
But this was Halloween at Hogwarts—disaster always struck.
Quirrell's troll, the Basilisk attacks, Black's break-in, the Triwizard selection...
This year proved no exception.
At the feast's peak, a buzzing sound echoed outside.
Frowning, Dumbledore opened the doors with a wand flick.
Hundreds of owls swooped in, dropping newspapers onto tables.
Wayne grabbed one. The headline screamed:
EASTERN EUROPEAN UPHEAVAL!