More than ten minutes later, Jon left Professor Dolores Umbridge's office without saying a word.
The corridor was nearly empty. Jon turned a corner until that pink nightmare of a room finally vanished from sigh.
All the while, he was thinking about what Umbridge had just told him.
What... the Ministry of Magic is actually planning to take action against Mad-Eye Moody?
Alastor Moody was a veteran Auror who had served the Ministry faithfully for decades—single-handedly filling half of Azkaban. And now the Ministry was being so heartless, burning its bridges and preparing to turn on him?
Should he warn Dumbledore?
But with all of Umbridge's spies scattered across the eighth floor, any direct attempt would be far too risky.
The only workable plan would be to use Polyjuice Potion—transforming into Professor Snape, for instance, and heading to the Headmaster's Office that way. Umbridge wouldn't suspect a thing.
But... wouldn't that get Professor Snape into trouble?
And if, by some miracle of bad luck, he ran into the real Professor Snape on his way up... that would be quite the scene.
Jon paused mid-thought, then froze.
Wait a minute... he'd overlooked something.
He didn't necessarily need to warn Dumbledore to protect Mad-Eye Moody—he could warn the Death Eaters instead!
After all, in the eyes of the Death Eaters, Moody was none other than Voldemort's trusted servant, Barty Crouch Jr. If the Ministry planned to target Barty Crouch Jr., there was no way the Death Eaters would stand by and do nothing.
With that realization, everything suddenly became much simpler.
Jon quickened his pace and headed upstairs.
...
In the History of Magic classroom, fifth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins were enduring Professor Binns's monotonous, droning lecture.
The topic of the day was the Giant Rebellion, and the endless list of tongue-twisting giant names was enough to make everyone's head spin.
A sudden fit of coughing came from outside the window. Draco Malfoy, bored out of his mind, turned to look.
There was Christopher Patrick, peering in through the window and waving at him to come out.
Malfoy's eyes lit up. He immediately ducked down and slipped quietly out of the room—though he hardly needed to worry, since Professor Binns never paid attention to what any of his students were doing anyway.
"What's going on, Chris?" Malfoy asked hurriedly.
"That idiot Umbridge agreed to our plan—she even gave our new organization a name," Jon said, handing him a parchment filled with the list of D.A. members.
"The Dolores Supporters' Club..." Malfoy frowned, clearly displeased with the name.
"That toad insisted on it," Jon said shamelessly. "Nothing I could do. We'll just call it the D.A. from now on."
"Fine," Malfoy sighed.
"Also, according to her, the Ministry is planning to move against Professor Alastor Moody. They think he's one of Dumbledore's closest allies," Jon added.
"Moody?" Malfoy's face shifted from surprise to excitement. "Brilliant!"
Clearly, the humiliation of being turned into a ferret a year ago was still fresh in his memory. Back then, he'd been lurking in a corridor, planning to ambush Harry Potter—only to be caught by Moody. The professor had promptly transfigured him into a white ferret and toyed with him for nearly ten minutes before Professor McGonagall arrived to intervene.
Of course, Malfoy didn't know that last year's "Mad-Eye Moody" wasn't the same one teaching this year.
"I think you should write to your father about this immediately," Jon urged, then quickly reconsidered. "No, owl post might not be safe... but surely you have a more secure way of contacting him?"
"Yes," Malfoy nodded, then frowned. "But why tell my father at all?"
"Think about it," Jon explained. "Mad-Eye Moody is Dumbledore's right-hand man. If he's taken down, Dumbledore suffers a huge loss—and the Dark Lord gains. If we deliver this news to the Dark Lord first, the credit will be ours. He can also use the information to his greatest advantage."
Malfoy's eyes widened as understanding dawned.
"You always think things through, Patrick!" he said excitedly. "I'll tell my father right away!"
"Be careful... and don't let anyone see you," Jon called after him as Malfoy dashed off, completely abandoning class.
Only when Malfoy's figure vanished down the staircase did a satisfied smile spread across Jon's face.
...
An hour later, Jon sat in the warm, perfume-filled Divination classroom.
Professor Sybill Trelawney stood at the front, looking unusually tense. Jon pulled out his textbook, Unfogging the Future Through the Mists.
"All right, let's begin!" Professor Trelawney cried, her voice sharp and bordering on hysterical. "You should all know what to do by now... Have I really taught so poorly that you've forgotten how to open your books?"
Her sudden burst of anger left the class momentarily stunned.
They hurried to open their textbooks.
As Jon flipped through his, he overheard Teresa Baker and Melinda Bobbin whispering in front of him.
"Did you hear? Professor Trelawney's been put on probation?"
"And apparently Professor Umbridge will be inspecting every one of her classes from now on!"
Just as they spoke, Dolores Umbridge entered, clipboard in hand.
Professor Trelawney gave her a nervous glance, forcing a fawning smile. "Good morning, Professor Umbridge!"
"Good morning!" Umbridge replied in that same syrupy voice, waving sweetly. "Do carry on with your lesson, dear."
Divination class continued—
In the heavily perfumed tower-top room, Umbridge sat by the hearth, constantly interrupting Trelawney's increasingly frantic lecture. She bombarded her with obscure questions about ornithomancy and septenary signs, insisting she predict students' answers or demonstrate her abilities using crystal balls, tea leaves, and runes.
From the expression on Trelawney's face, Jon suspected she could break down any second...