Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 336 Intimidation
After a class, apart from the members of Harry's Duel Hut, almost no one was able to use the Ironclad Charm completely.

Apart from Hannah Abbott.

This Iron-Hat Princess seemed to have a considerable talent for the Ironclad Spell; before get out of class ended, she was already able to use a relatively complete Ironclad Spell.

"Well done, Abbot!" Harry clapped. "Ten points for Hufflepuff! Excellent Ironclad Charm!"

The Hufflepuff students immediately cheered, and Justin Finley even started pounding the table like Tarzan.

"Quiet!" Ha tapped the blackboard with his wand.

The classroom immediately fell silent.

"Look at you, still cheering?" Harry said, somewhat exasperated. "A whole class period and you can't even master a single Ironclad Charm, and you still have the nerve to cheer? Hmm? Mr. Fenrir? Do you think you're so great?"

Justin lowered his head, not daring to utter a sound, not daring to make a sound at all.

He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt that Professor Potter at this moment looked exactly like Potions Professor Snape.

How can they be so similar?

"Homework." Harry tapped the blackboard again. "Everyone who hasn't mastered the Ironclad Charm, write a one-foot-long essay on it. I'll check it before the next class."

The classroom erupted in groans, but Ron immediately stood up smugly and gestured for the Gryffindor students to be quiet.

He finally stood up for himself, after all... he had mastered the Iron Man Charm and no longer needed to do the homework Harry assigned.

This is great news! We must support it!
Ron now understands a little better why professors assign papers—it's really gratifying to watch others write them instead of writing them yourself!

It has to be said that he was somewhat twisted.

“Professor,” Draco raised his hand with a beaming smile, “what about those idiots who just can’t learn it?”

“Oh, that’s a shame, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry grinned at Draco. “Well then, I’d like you to help those two troll brothers master the Iron Man Charm. I’ll give you… well, a month, how about that? If they still haven’t mastered the Iron Man Charm by Halloween, then… I’ll come after you, okay?”

Draco's face immediately fell, while Goyle and Crabbe, on the other hand, wore gloating smiles.

“You two,” Harry called out the troll brothers’ names, “Still laughing? You two have to write two-foot-long papers, and no padding with big letters, or else… you know what I’m capable of!”

The two troll brothers stopped laughing.

After class, the students listlessly packed up their books and left the classroom to prepare for the next class.

“I was so stupid, really,” Draco muttered to Pansy. “I knew Harry wouldn’t let me off the hook, and I still went and gave him a chance. Seriously, I was such an idiot…”

“Oh, I think so too,” Pansy said sarcastically from the side. “If you hadn’t asked, maybe none of this would have happened.”

"I just wanted to make that chubby Longbottom write a few more papers," Draco said, somewhat dejectedly. "Good heavens, Longbottom is the only one in our Duel Hut who hasn't mastered the Ironclad Charm; it works on and off..."

“That still allows you to cast the Ironclad Charm, doesn’t it?” Pansy said nonchalantly. “You know, the vast majority of students can’t cast it successfully, except for Hannah Abbott, that Hufflepuff…”

"No way!" Draco said through gritted teeth. "How can Slytherin lose to someone else? Tell all the fifth-years to gather in the common room tonight, and I'll teach them how to properly cast the Ironclad Charm!"

Predictably, Slytherin has already begun to curl up.

The next day, Harry entered the Charms classroom and found that Umbridge was not there.

This is a good thing.

"It seems you've all done a good job with the assignments I gave you," Professor Flitwick said with a smile, standing atop a pile of books. "I'm very pleased with your diligence—oh, and by the way, Harry, congratulations on becoming the youngest professor in Hogwarts' history!"

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said with a slight bow.

The atmosphere in the Charms class was relaxed and pleasant, perhaps because Professor Umbridge wasn't there; in any case, everyone seemed very at ease.

But things weren't so relaxed when get out of class ended, because Professor Flitwick assigned everyone another long paper.

In the Transfiguration classroom, they finally spotted Umbridge.

She was sitting in the corner, holding a writing board in her hand. When Harry came in, her droopy eyelids twitched involuntarily.

“Great,” Ron whispered as they settled into their usual seats. “Harry taught Umbridge a good lesson yesterday, let’s see how Professor McGonagall deals with her today—haha, Professor McGonagall’s temper won’t tolerate her acting as she does in Professor Trelawney’s class!”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said in a low voice as well.

Just then, Professor McGonagall strode into the classroom, and judging from her expression, she seemed completely unaware of Professor Umbridge's presence.

“Alright,” she said, and the classroom immediately fell silent. “Mr. Finnigan, please come and hand out the homework—Miss Brown, please take this box of mice—don’t be silly, girl, they won’t bite you. You should give one to each student.”

"Ahem, ahem." Professor Umbridge coughed, the same silly cough she used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of school.

Professor McGonagall pretended not to hear and didn't even look at Umbridge.

Seamus handed Harry his paper, and Harry picked it up and saw—"O".

Transfiguration? That's a piece of cake for me.

“Saw a mouse.” Harry still had the mood to tease Ron. “Doesn’t it look familiar, buddy? Remember that mouse you were clinging to like a precious treasure a few years ago? What was its name again? Scabbers, yeah…”

Harry's words stirred up some unpleasant memories for Ron. He had almost forgotten about the mouse, but Harry's words brought them back to mind.

Good heavens, I actually slept with that fat rat in my arms, especially since that fat rat was a bald old man...

What did I do?!
"Stop talking!" he hissed.

“Oh,” Harry said sarcastically, “Isn’t it time to call someone ‘Scabbers’ now? Or have you forgotten the days when you couldn’t sleep without holding a mouse?” Ron glared at Harry through gritted teeth. If they weren’t in Professor McGonagall’s class, Ron swore he would have given Harry a piece of his mind.

"Alright, students, listen carefully—Dean Thomas, if you keep messing with that mouse like that, I'll put you in solitary confinement—now, most of you can successfully recite the Vanishing Charm to make the snail disappear, and even those who still have a bit of snail shell left have grasped the key points of the spell. Today, we're going to…"

He was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

"Cough, cough," Professor Umbridge coughed.

Professor McGonagall's face darkened, revealing a terrifying expression. She stared at Umbridge and asked, "What? You'd better be really unwell, Ms. Umbridge."

This is quite straightforward; instead of calling him "professor," he directly addresses her as "madam."

Umbridge was clearly aware of Professor McGonagall's displeasure, but she didn't take it to heart, after all, she had the Ministry of Magic as her backer.

"Professor, I just want to know if you received my note, which notified you of the date and time of the investigation into your class attendance..."

“I obviously received that, otherwise I would have asked you what you were doing in my classroom.” Professor McGonagall gave Umbridge a cold glance, her face growing increasingly grim. “I hope that if some people want to stay in the classroom peacefully, they’d better behave themselves.”

After saying that, Professor McGonagall continued to the students: "As I just said, today we're going to practice the more difficult Vanishing Spell for mice. Okay, here it is, Vanishing Spell—"

"Cough, cough."

“I don’t understand,” Professor McGonagall turned to Professor M. Ritchie and said coldly with anger, “How can you understand my usual teaching methods if you keep interrupting me? You should know that I generally don’t allow others to speak when I’m speaking.”

Umbridge looked as if she had been slapped in the face. She didn't speak, but straightened the parchment on the writing board and began to scribble hastily in a fit of rage.

Professor McGonagall, seemingly unconcerned, addressed the class once more: "As I just said, the Vanishing Charm becomes increasingly difficult to master as the animals it needs to eliminate become more complex. Snails are invertebrates, so it's not too challenging, but mice are mammals, which makes it much more demanding. This isn't some magic you can accomplish while thinking about dinner. Alright—now that you know the spell, let's see how well you do?"

“I actually wanted to ask Professor McGonagall,” Ron whispered to Harry, “what happens if you use the Vanishing Charm on a person, like that pink toad…”

He was just thinking about it, but Harry immediately raised his hand.

"Potter."

Professor McGonagall's expression softened; looking at her favorite student, she felt much better.

“Professor,” Harry stood up, glancing at Professor Umbridge almost imperceptibly, and asked, “What I want to know is, where did the missing things go?”

Professor McGonagall's expression softened further, and she nodded in reply, "To become nothingness, that is to say, to become all things."

“What if…” Harry glanced at Professor Umbridge again, “does this spell have a counter-spell? If the spell accidentally hits someone, is there a counter-spell that can bring them back to life?”

“As far as I know, it shouldn’t be possible,” Professor McGonagall said regretfully. “But wizards can at most make larger animals disappear; it’s very difficult for them to make people disappear from the world… Of course, perhaps you have that ability, Mr. Potter.”

Harry glanced at Professor Umbridge again, startling him so much that the professor immediately stood up his writing board to block Harry's view.

She had no doubt that Potter, that lawless little rascal, would definitely try to use a Vanishing Charm on her and then claim that it was just a mistake.

“You scared her, buddy,” Ron said gleefully, glancing at Professor Umbridge, whose face didn’t look too good.

“I’m really going to give it a try,” Harry said, wiping his wand. “But not yet. Hopefully she’ll behave and not really piss me off.”

Umbridge behaved very well in this class, not walking around like he did in Professor Trelawney's class, but sitting still and writing and drawing.

I don't know if she was scared by Harry or if she knew Professor McGonagall wouldn't allow her to move around, which is why she sat so obediently.

When Professor McGonagall finally told the class to pack up and leave, she stood up, her face frighteningly grim.

“Hey, here we go.” Ron said, picking up a long, wriggling rat tail and tossing it into the box Lavender Brown had passed to him.

“Stay here.” Harry stopped Ron, who was trying to leave, and then called to Hermione, who was standing between Ron and Harry. “We might as well stay here and listen to what they have to say.”

The three of them sat in a row, watching Professor Umbridge and Professor McGonagall intently.

Professor Umbridge's expression darkened as he watched the three of them remain.

"You should be dismissed from get out of class now," she reminded them.

"My leg hurts." Harry said nonchalantly. "I'll rest for a bit before I go. The two of them will stay and take care of me—Gryffindor prefects taking care of students with leg pain, so beaver-like, right?"

Professor McGonagall suddenly felt as if her mother, James Potter, had been resurrected.

His reckless and unruly demeanor is just like his dead father.

“Since your leg is uncomfortable, you should stay,” Professor McGonagall declared decisively.

Umbridge couldn't afford to offend either Professor McGonagall or Mr. Potter, so she wisely chose to ignore them.

She turned to Professor McGonagall and asked, "How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

“It will be thirty-nine years this December,” Professor McGonagall replied curtly, slamming her briefcase shut.

Professor Umbridge took a few notes.

“Very good,” she said. “You will receive the results of your investigation within ten days.”

After saying that, she left without looking back, in a great hurry, as if she were avoiding some kind of plague.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall suddenly turned her head and asked Harry with a cold face, "Potter, your leg should be better now, right? Or should I take you to Madam Pomfrey's infirmary?"

"Oh, it's all done, Professor." Harry stood up and gave Professor McGonagall a thumbs-up. "Well done, Professor! You truly are the Head of Gryffindor!"

(End of this chapter)