HP: The Duelist of Hogwarts - 424

Chapter 424: Beautiful Music

The new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, Joros Jobbins, had been under constant scrutiny from both staff and students. The students were curious enough, but even the professors wanted to know how Dumbledore had managed to recruit him. When they asked, all they got from Dumbledore was that Jobbins was an American wizard Dumbledore trusted. Nothing more.

Gavin’s Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons followed the same pattern as always, divided into written and practical components.

At first, as Umbridge listened to the written section of the lesson, her face wore an expression of polite appreciation. But when Gavin shifted to the practical portion, that look vanished, replaced by clear disapproval.

“Next, pair up,” Gavin said. “You will practise Expelliarmus and Stupefy on one another and learn how to counter them. These are about mid-level questions on your O.W.L. exam. If you cannot use these two spells fluently, your O.W.L.s in Defence will become very dangerous indeed.”

He was about to have the students group themselves when Umbridge cut in.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Professor Jobbins,” she said. “But I do not agree with having students cast spells on each other in class. It is reckless and dangerous. I believe that, at their age, written work alone is enough.”

“Professor Umbridge, you may have a point,” Gavin replied, “but the practical portion of the exam will not become any easier to accommodate your beliefs. And if they intend to become Aurors one day, their practical marks will be more important than anything.”

“Practical work can wait until seventh year, or even until after graduation. That is much safer, is it not? Besides, the Ministry’s demand for Aurors is not so high at the moment. We live in such a safe and peaceful society, do we not? Even if they wish to become Aurors, there is no need to rush. There are so few openings, not everyone can pass the tests, is there?”

Gavin had no desire to waste words on her. If not for the unfortunate need to maintain his current identity, he would already have drawn his wand and sent an Avada her way. When a disgusting toad would not be shooed from your path, the right answer was to step on it. That was how Gavin had always handled such things.

“All of you, pair up,” he said instead. “Choose your own partners. Anyone left over, I will assign.”

Seeing that he had not deigned to answer her at all, Umbridge’s face pinched tight. She lived for attention and for the feeling of superiority. Nothing enraged her more than being ignored.

She rose slowly to her feet and scribbled briskly on the clipboard in her hand. Then, apparently holding her temper in check with effort, she said, “Professor Jobbins, perhaps you should consider my suggestion more carefully. I am, after all, the High Inquisitor appointed to investigate Hogwarts’ teaching standards, am I not?”

Gavin turned to look at her. He could hear the threat in every word. He paused the lesson and said, “Professor Umbridge, if I understand you correctly, you believe practical work is not important.”

“Of course. For the wizarding world as it is now, peace is the everlasting theme. Even if children graduate with no practical ability in Defence Against the Dark Arts, it hardly matters.”

“Excellent. In that case, allow me to demonstrate exactly how wrong you are.”

“And how do you intend to—”

“Cramp and Lock.”

Gavin’s wand lashed out. A bolt of violet light struck Umbridge and dropped her straight to the floor. Her entire body convulsed, and her jaws worked uselessly, unable to form a single word.

The sight of her, twitching silently on the stone, set the room alight. With the exception of a portion of the Slytherins, the students erupted into cheers and applause.

Once he judged the effect sufficient, Gavin flicked his wand again and cancelled the two minor jinxes.

Umbridge dragged herself upright, face ashen with rage. Gavin gave her a politely contrite look. “My apologies, Professor Umbridge. I may have overstepped just now. But I trust you have now personally experienced the importance of practical Defence Against the Dark Arts, have you not?”

Umbridge stared at him, watching him repeat her favourite phrase back at her. Her face went from green to white and back again. Finally she drew a long breath and said, in that ever-shrill voice, “Professor Jobbins, I will remember today’s lesson very clearly.”

“I hope my lesson taught you something. That way, it will not have been in vain, will it?”

Jaw clenched, she turned on her heel and left the classroom before the lesson had even ended.

Watching her go, Sean knew Gavin would be facing retaliation. Even so, he did not expect Umbridge to move quite so quickly.

At dinner, Filch hurried to the notice board in the Entrance Hall and tacked up an enormous new proclamation. It stated that, following an investigation by the Ministry of Magic’s first High Inquisitor, the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum at Hogwarts did not align with the Ministry’s educational philosophy.

From tomorrow onward, Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons at Hogwarts would be suspended. Instruction would resume only after the Ministry assigned a new professor deemed more capable of correctly implementing Defence Against the Dark Arts.

When the students saw the notice, the Hall erupted. It had only been two weeks since term began, but they had already grown attached to Professor Jobbins: tall, handsome, humorous, and formidable with his wand. Coupled with Umbridge’s incessant meddling over the past days, their resentment toward the pink toad had reached an impressive peak.

Quietly, in corners and common rooms, certain students were already organising. They encouraged their Housemates to write home, complaining about the situation: about a good teacher being pushed out, about an interfering High Inquisitor who kept sabotaging their lessons and exam preparation. They laid it on thick in letter after letter.

Within hours, the Owlery was all but emptied. And that was not counting those students who had their own owls. Around midnight, Howlers from every corner of wizarding Britain descended on the Ministry of Magic, funnelling straight toward the Minister’s office.

One thing was certain. When Fudge arrived for work the next morning and opened his door, he would be greeted by a chorus of parental outrage.

A piece of truly beautiful music.