two | 02.
BACK TO THE BASICS.

    Marietta sprinted down the stone corridors of Hogwarts, her robes billowing behind her as she kept pace with Frederick Chappell.

    The Ravenclaw boy was lanky and light on his feet, though his haphazard strides made it clear he was unused to running through the castle's uneven hallways.

    Frederick's face was flushed from exertion, and Marietta could hear his labored breathing over the rhythmic slap of their shoes against the floor.

    The two skidded around a sharp corner, nearly colliding with a group of Slytherins who scowled at their noisy passage. Marietta shouted a rushed apology but didn't slow.

    Finally, they burst through the doors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, their momentum carrying them a few steps too far inside.

The entire room turned to look at them, the whirs of conversation quieting in an instant.

    Marietta straightened up quickly, brushing a loose curl of strawberry-blonde hair from her flushed face. She glanced at Frederick, whose wide eyes and sheepish posture screamed mortification.

    "Sorry, Professor." She said, her voice even despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

    Frederick muttered a hurried apology as well, practically diving into a seat next to a Hufflepuff near the back of the room. Marietta took a steadying breath and moved to the only remaining desk.

    Her stomach sank as she realized it was wedged between Harry Potter and know-it-all Hermione Granger.

    Avoiding Harry's confused stare, she settled into her chair and began methodically unpacking her quill and parchment, arranging them neatly on the desk as though precision could ward off her discomfort.

    Professor Umbridge turned toward them, her lips curling into a smile that only deepened her uncanny resemblance to a toad.

    "That will be ten points from Ravenclaw for tardiness!" She chirped, the punishment doled out with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Turning back to the blackboard, she continued her lecture as though nothing had happened.

    Marietta clenched her jaw. In the past, professors had been lenient with her lateness if she had a valid excuse, but Umbridge seemed to delight in her petty discipline.

So much for a fresh start this year, she thought bitterly, tapping her quill against the desk in irritation.

   "Now, as I was saying before the interruption," Umbridge continued, "it is imperative that you study diligently for your O.W.L.s. Success will bring its rewards, while failure..." She paused, letting her words linger as she surveyed the room. "...will bring consequences most severe."

    A flick of her wand sent a tower of textbooks soaring into the air, each landing neatly on a desk with a muted thud.

    Marietta caught hers as it landed, flipping it over to inspect the cover. Her lip curled in disdain. Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners.

    The title alone made her stomach churn. A quick flip through its thin pages revealed nothing remotely challenging or practical, certainly not what was needed to prepare for the world outside the castle walls.

    Hermione Granger's hand shot into the air, her fingers stretched as if reaching for the ceiling. "Professor, there's nothing in this book about practicing defensive spells."

    Marietta peeked at the bushy-haired girl, who had already cracked her book open halfway and was glaring at its contents in disapproval.

   "Using spells?" Umbridge gasped as she approached Hermione's desk. Her wide eyes glinted with mock horror. "Oh, my dear, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."

    Hermione's mouth opened, but no words came out. The sheer absurdity of the statement left her momentarily speechless, her cheeks flushing with ire.

    Marietta frowned, her own frustration rising. She wasn't Hermione's biggest fan, but even she couldn't turn a blind eye to the blatant absurdity of the curriculum.

    "So, we're not going to use magic at all?" She asked aloud, her voice sharper than she intended.

Her wand felt heavy in the pocket of her robes, almost buzzing with disuse.

    "You'll be learning about defensive spells," Umbridge said, turning her syrupy smile on Marietta. "But in a safe, risk-free environment."

    The words felt like an insult, as if she thought them incapable of handling real magic.

    Marietta met the professor's gaze evenly, though her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of her desk. Around her, murmurs of discontent rippled through the room.

She wasn't the only one unhappy with this so-called "safe" approach.

    The murmurs of discontent in the room fell away as Harry Potter's voice rose above them. "What use is that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free!" His green eyes burned, and his brows furrowed deeply.

    Professor Umbridge's smile faltered, her already frosty demeanor hardening further.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she regarded Harry with a look that seemed carved from ice.

    For a moment, she said nothing, her pale fingers curling tightly around her wand.

    To anyone who didn't know her, the expression might have seemed terrifying. But Marietta, who had seen Umbridge's kind of cruelty in action before, recognized the controlled rage bubbling beneath her exterior.

    "Students will raise their hands when they wish to speak in my classroom." She said slowly, each word calculated, as though she were speaking to a particularly problematic child.

    With deliberate care, she took a deep breath, her thumb running over the grooves of her wand to calm herself.

    "The Ministry," she continued, "is of the view that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to see you through your examinations."

    Marietta couldn't stop herself. Exasperation bubbled to the surface, and she threw her hands into the air before quickly clasping them back down on the desk.

"Exams are one thing, Professor, but what about when we graduate? Part of learning is application!" She argued, the words spilling out before she could second-guess them.

    Umbridge's head snapped toward her with alarming speed. Marietta's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her chin raised, meeting the professor's gaze with as much defiance as she could muster.

    "Who do you imagine wants to attack young wizards such as yourselves?"

    Her question hung in the air for only a second before Harry interrupted. "Oh, I don't know, maybe Lord Voldemort?"

    The use of the Dark Lord's name sent a chill racing down Marietta's spine. She froze, her mind scrambling as Harry's words resounded in her ears.

The name itself was enough to stir an instinctual fear within her.

    Marietta had heard that Harry claimed Voldemort was back, that he had killed Cedric Diggory at the end of last year's Triwizard Tournament. She didn't know what to believe.

    The idea of Voldemort's return was almost too enormous to grasp, but she remembered Harry's anguished cries when he returned from the maze, clutching Cedric's lifeless body. There had to be some truth in his words.

    The classroom was noiseless, save for the faint scratching of Umbridge's nails against her desk as she walked slowly back to her place at the front.

She leaned forward, resting her weight on her knuckles as her blue eyes swept across the room.

    "Now," she said, her voice dropping to a low pitch, "let me make this quite plain. You have been told... that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

    Harry was on his feet in an instant, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as it tipped backward. His books and quill clattered to the ground, forgotten. "It's not a lie!" He shouted, his face flushed with fury. "I saw him! I fought him!"

    The room seemed to hold its breath, every student frozen in their seats as Harry's words rang out.

    "Enough! Enough!" Umbridge screeched, cutting him off with a shrillness that made several students flinch. Her cheeks were mottled with pink, her sugary façade now utterly shattered.

    Her voice reverberated off the stone walls as she jabbed a finger in Harry's direction, then swung it toward Marietta. "You and Miss Edgecombe," she snapped, her voice trembling, "will see me later. My office."

    Marietta's stomach sank, dread pooling in her chest as she glanced at Harry. His jaw was set, his expression unyielding despite Professor Umbridge's wrath.

    Marietta swallowed hard, already imagining the unbearable hours she would spend under the woman's scrutiny. For the first time that day, she regretted speaking up.

END OF CHAPTER II.