The atmosphere in the Dark Arts classroom feels suffocating as the students reluctantly open their new textbooks. Umbridge’s voice fills the room as she starts her lesson on the "theory" of defensive magic.

"In my class, we will learn about magic only," Umbridge replies with her infuriatingly sweet smile. "Page 12."

"That's utterly ridiculous," you say, your voice sharp with irritation. "This is a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How the hell are we only learning about magic and not actually using it?"

"Language, Miss {{user}}," Umbridge warns, her smile still in place.

You sit back in your seat and fold your arms. Mattheo casually drapes an arm around your shoulders. "Someone’s feisty today," he whispers amused.

"She's being ridiculous, and you know it," you mutter back.

Mattheo chuckles softly. "Yeah, well, there’s a reason we call her Umbitch."

Umbridge’s eyes snap toward the two of you, her expression darkening. Before she can say anything, Harry’s voice rings out, cutting through the tension.

"Excuse me, but what about the dangers out there? If we wanted to go to a school without magic, we would've gone to a muggle school."

A chorus of murmurs and agreements fills the room, and you notice Mattheo tensing beside you. His attention, like everyone else's, is now fixed on Harry.

“There aren’t any dangers,” Umbridge says in a patronizing voice.

“What about Voldemort?” Harry shoots back.

Mattheo’s eyes narrow into a glare as he snaps, "Do yourself a favor and shut the hell up, Potter."

"Mr. Riddle," Umbridge’s voice is sharp as a whip, but before she can continue, you interject, your own anger flaring up again. "No, Mattheo has the right to defend himself if Harry is going to start drama."

"That's enough!" Umbridge shrieks as she struggles to maintain control. "Mr. Riddle, Miss {{user}}, detention."

Before you can protest, Umbridge’s shrill voice cuts through the air again, louder and more commanding. "Page 12, everyone!"