Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Public opinion began to sway in their favor, and the newspaper subscriptions were increasing.

At the same time, subscriptions to the Daily Prophet continued to decline.

People were unwilling to subscribe to a lying newspaper, no matter how old it was. When it lost credibility, the newspaper also lost its vitality.

As public opinion fermented, there were more and more protests against Fudge and the Ministry of Magic, and there was no way to control them.

Like the Wizarding World, things were getting increasingly chaotic inside Hogwarts Castle.

Everyone was talking about this matter, and no one cared about Umbridge’s Educational Decrees.

In this situation, Harry felt much happier.

It was one of the few good things that had happened since he was banned from Quidditch and the increasingly painful Occlumency lessons began.

As he hurried to his Transfiguration class, Cho caught up with him.

Before he knew what had happened her hand was in his and she was breathing in his ear, “I’m really, really sorry. That interview was so brave … it made me cry.”

Harry was sorry to hear that she had shed even more tears over it, but very glad they were on speaking terms again, and even more pleased when she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and hurried off again.

And unbelievably, no sooner had he arrived outside Transfiguration than something just as good happened: Seamus stepped out of the queue to face him. This was the first conversation between the two since their argument at the beginning of the term.

“I just wanted to say,” he mumbled, squinting at Harry’s left knee, “I believe you. And I’ve sent a copy of that paper to me mam.”

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions.

He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters. In class, they looked at Harry with hatred and kept turning their heads. Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe.

But they couldn’t do anything, and their current position was not good.

They couldn’t even stand up and contradict Evan and Harry because they couldn’t admit they had read the article!

Umbridge did lose her sense of proportion. On Monday evening, instead of imposing any punishment during detention, she actually invited Evan and Elaine for tea.

She separated the two of them and asked Evan to come to her office at five o’clock first, and Elaine to be there at six o’clock.

Everyone only had one hour, what on earth did she want to do?!

Umbridge’s office was the same as usual except for Harry’s Firebolt and the Starcatchers elaborated by Evan, which were now chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk.

Evan also saw his wand, his wand in name only, locked by a miniature iron chain.

Umbridge probably regarded them as trophies and hung them on the wall in a showy way.

“Good evening, Mr. Mason!” When Evan came in, she was busily scribbling upon some of her pink parchment, with her head down. She did not look at Evan, but pointed to a chair and said briefly and curtly, “Sit, we need to talk. We had a conversation at the beginning of the term, but obviously, it was not pleasant. Due to some things, our differences have grown. It’s time to resolve these contradictions; continuing to be at odds benefits no one.”

“Yes, Professor, I agree with your point of view!”

Evan sat down and looked at Umbridge in surprise. What did she mean? Did she want to reconcile?!

Because the words in Hogwarts Magic let her know the truth, was she ready to abandon the darkness and turn to the light?!

There was no way this kind of thing could happen to Umbridge, even if she took the wrong potion.

Since it was not asking for peace, there must be some conspiracy!

Evan looked at Umbridge, trying to see what new plans she had.

She was writing something with her head down, and on the plate above her head, several ugly cats were jumping around.

These cats were not simple, this was surveillance magic.

“Alright, finally done,” said Umbridge, putting down her quill. The expression on her face was like a toad about to swallow a juicy fly. “This is a report for the Minister. I believe that special measures should be taken during special times to make the reforms more thorough. It is necessary. By the way, what would you like to drink?”

“Thank you, no need!” said Evan, Umbridge’s attitude was so strange!

“Come on, I really wish you to have a drink with me,” said Umbridge with an ugly smile on her face in a tone that was both scary and pleasant. “Tea? Coffee? Orange juice? Pumpkin juice?”

As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared upon her desk.

Evan suddenly realized that there was something wrong with these drinks. Was she going to poison him?!

“Fine, Professor … tea then,” he said softly, looking at Umbridge.

Umbridge got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to him.

She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in sinisterly sweet fashion.

“There,” she said, handing the tea to Evan. “Drink it before it gets cold, won’t you? I thought we ought to have a little chat, after so many unfortunate events.”

Evan didn’t speak, just stared. There was no discernible content in the teacup in front of him.

Umbridge settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, “You’re not drinking up!”

Unless someone’s head was messed up, they wouldn’t drink something they knew was problematic.

Evan pretended to raise the teacup to his lips, then suddenly put it down again. Umbridge looked at him nervously.

“What’s the matter?” said Umbridge, who was still watching him. “Do you want sugar?”

“Yes … a little bit. I like it sweeter. Thank you!” said Evan, putting the tea cup on the table.

Taking advantage of it, as Umbridge stood up, his wand slid down to his right hand, hidden by his sleeve. Evan cast a Confundus Charm.

Umbridge paused, feeling a momentary dizziness. In that time, Evan swiftly switched the contents of the teacups.

“How many spoonfuls of sugar do you want?” Umbridge asked, not noticing anything.

“One spoonful is enough,” said Evan, watching the white sugar dissolve and disappear into the murky tea.

He picked it up and took a sip. It was too sweet, not his favorite taste…

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