novelcrest Chapter 528 A Lengthy Speech
Chapter 528 A Lengthy Speech
Chapter 524 A Lengthy Speech
Hermione also noticed Ginny's hesitation.
"What's wrong?"
"I—" Ginny glanced instinctively at the long table in the classroom—Sean was chatting and laughing with Tonks, forking a piece of tender steak, looking like he had a great appetite. Ginny immediately looked away, quickly leaned close to Hermione's ear, and whispered, "I want to ask you something—"
Hermione frowned slightly.
It's about Professor Phillips, right?
"Tonight, in the Gryffindor common room," Hermione said softly. "We'll talk after everyone's asleep."
Ginny nodded slightly and didn't say anything more, but her eyes kept drifting towards the teachers' table, her expression subtly complicated.
By this time, the students had eaten and drunk their fill, and the auditorium gradually became lively, with laughter and chatter filling the air.
Just then, Dumbledore stood up again, and before he could utter a sound, the entire Great Hall fell silent.
Everyone turned their attention to the podium, and even Ginny snapped out of her daze.
Harry was already feeling drowsy, and the image of that familiar, warm four-poster bed began to float into his mind—it was in the tower upstairs, waiting for him to crawl in.
"Alright," Dumbledore said with a smile, "now that we're all digesting this incredibly sumptuous dinner, I'd like to ask you all to be quiet for a while and listen to me, as usual, talk about some things to keep in mind for the new school term."
"First-year students need to know that the Forbidden Forest remains an area where students are prohibited from entering."
Sean superficially believed—
If this rule needs to be reminded every year at the start of the school year, then a sign should be made and posted in any corner of the auditorium, or a student handbook should be created, listing it alongside the rule against nighttime outings during curfew hours as the first rule.
"Mr. Filch, the administrator, has asked me—this is the 426th time he has asked—to remind everyone once again that no magic is allowed in the hallways during breaks. There are many other rules, which are posted on that long list outside his office; interested students can read them themselves."
This one too, is included in the student handbook.
At this point, Dumbledore changed the subject.
"This year, there have been two changes in our teaching staff."
"First of all, we are very pleased to welcome Professor Grapland back, who will once again teach you the lesson on protecting magical creatures."
"We also welcome Professor Umbridge to the class; she will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor."
A polite but restrained round of applause rang out. Hermione frowned slightly, while Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, unsure of what to do.
Professor Glapland and the others knew, but what about Hagrid? What was he going to do?
And who is Umbridge?
Hermione felt the name sounded somewhat familiar. But for a moment, she couldn't recall the background or meaning behind it. Dumbledore was about to continue when his words abruptly stopped.
Everyone followed his gaze to the other end of the teachers' table. They saw Professor Umbridge stand up imperceptibly—though she was almost the same height as when she was sitting.
She cleared her throat, her voice not loud, but enough to draw everyone's attention to her alone.
"Cough, cough."
It was only then that everyone realized she was about to speak.
Most of the Hogwarts faculty and students exchanged bewildered glances. No new teacher had ever interrupted on their inaugural night, let alone dared to speak out during Dumbledore's address—it was rather impolite.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge said with a forced smile, "thank you for such a warm welcome."
Her voice was high-pitched and shrill, with a breathy quality, like a little girl's voice. Everyone felt a sudden and intense aversion. This feeling was very repulsive. If you had to describe it, it was like a straight man walking down the street and seeing a heavily made-up, pink-dressed gay black woman.
It is some kind of physiological discomfort.
Umbridge cleared his throat with a few light coughs (cough, cough) and continued.
"Yes, I must say, it's so good to be back at Hogwarts! Seeing all those happy little faces looking up at me is wonderful!"
Perhaps wizarding education should start from childhood; maybe we could open a kindergarten or preschool and hire Umbridge as the teachers.
Who says the wizarding world doesn't value early childhood education? Umbridge would be the first to disagree.
"I eagerly hope to get to know all of you soon; I believe we will become very good friends!"
Umbridge ended the sentence with a smile, her tone so sweet that many students exchanged knowing glances.
Some people even openly revealed wicked smiles. But is it really over after those words?
Sean doesn't think so.
Those who frequently attend meetings at the Ministry of Magic know that this is just the beginning for Umbridge, not the end. As Fudge's mouthpiece, how could his speech be so brief?
Umbridge cleared his throat again—"cough, cough."
This time, her expression turned serious, and her tone was no longer sweet and exaggerated, but rather mechanical and dry, as if she were reciting a manuscript that she already knew by heart.
"The Ministry of Magic has always considered it a very important responsibility to educate young wizards. Your innate and precious talents will not be fully realized without careful and rigorous guidance. The unique and ancient arts of the magical world can only be continued through generations. The valuable knowledge accumulated by our ancestors needs to be protected, supplemented, and perfected by those who are fortunate enough to dedicate themselves to education."
She paused for a moment, then smiled and gave a slight bow towards the teachers' table.
But all she received in response was a completely silent silence.
Not a single teacher stood up to greet them, not even a nod.
Professor McGonagall's eyebrows furrowed even more, almost knotting together, and her expression was as serious as a falcon preparing to swoop down.
To be honest, Umbridge's actions and words seemed somewhat familiar—in some ways, they reminded her of a familiar figure, someone who had also been a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts a few years earlier.
McGonagall's gaze unconsciously drifted toward where Sean was.
Does this mean that to achieve something in the Ministry of Magic, one must possess certain qualities?
Sean, however, was unaware of McGonagall's inner thoughts. When he noticed McGonagall turning to look at him, he returned a bright smile, wishing her a happy new semester.
"In taking on the responsibility of managing this great school, successive headmasters of Hogwarts have indeed made some attempts and changes."
This is understandable, because without progress, there is stagnation and decline. However, to change merely for the sake of progress is short-sighted and dangerous. Our traditions have withstood the test of time and often do not require clumsy revisions.
"We must learn to seek a balance—between the ancient and the modern, between stability and change, between tradition and so-called innovation —"
The taste is getting better and better.
For the students who had just witnessed Dumbledore's brief speech, this was undoubtedly a complete disaster. It also revealed Umbridge's true identity—a Ministry of Magic affiliation. No one other than those from the Ministry could utter such standard rhetoric found in the Daily Prophet and on the radio.
The attention in the auditorium began to quickly dissipate.
Ron tilted his head back slowly, his eyes fixed on the candy-colored cloud in the dome, his lips slightly parted, looking like he was just a minute away from snoring. Harry, on the other hand, absentmindedly twirled his water glass, his thoughts already drifting out of the Great Hall, perhaps to the Forbidden Forest, or perhaps to some Quidditch pitch.
Hermione maintained her upright posture, but her fingers unconsciously gripped the napkin, her gaze fixed on the table, lost in thought.
Maybe—he's thinking about how to communicate with Ginny.
Ginny was still thinking about Professor Phillips—it was time to have a frank talk and help her confront her uncertain thoughts.
Look over there—
Parvati and Lavender were already secretly folding paper next to their textbooks, passing each other a paper doll that looked like a kitten; Neville carefully wedged a spoon between his nose and upper lip, trying to maintain his balance; the Weasley twins, one pretending to listen attentively, and the other had already lowered his head and started writing something on parchment—seemingly secretly conceiving something.
"—Therefore," Umbridge continued, "to ensure the correct direction of education, the Ministry of Magic will assume a more clearly defined responsibility—"
"She's still talking," Ginny muttered, poking at the already cold pie on her plate with her fork.
"I thought she had already said it three times," Ron muttered, opening his eyes.
Just then, a piece of bacon on the table was secretly flicked off with a fork, landing precisely in the corner of the Slytherin table, eliciting a low, suppressed chuckle. No one saw who did it, but one of the Weasley brothers was already pretending to drink water, his shoulders twitching slightly.
Dumbledore remained seated quietly in the center of the teachers' table throughout, his hands folded on the table, a faint smile on his face, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Professor McGonagall, standing beside him, had almost snapped the quill pen in two.
Umbridge was unaware that she had long since lost everyone's attention. Her tone remained unchanged, slow and deliberate: "This is a necessary step we are taking for Hogwarts to move towards a brighter future."
"————"
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the lengthy speech came to an end.
A clattering sound of tables and chairs echoed around them as everyone stood up, preparing to leave the auditorium.
"Neville, we need to give directions to the first-year students!" Hermione reminded them.
"Oh, right!" Neville suddenly realized, and then shouted, "Hey—everyone, come with me!"
A group of freshmen walked cautiously through the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, each keeping their heads down as much as possible.
"See you later," Ginny whispered to Hermione, then sat back down.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Neville led the first-year students through the dark corridor, becoming increasingly cautious and apprehensive, especially when they saw some ghosts casually strolling through it.
"This is the Gryffindor Tower."
Hermione turned around and introduced the young wizards behind her with a smile.
"You'll get used to it quickly. Our common lounge is upstairs; just remember the code before you go in, of course."
Neville maintained order until the very end and did not do anything "beyond his capabilities".
When she reached the end of the corridor, Hermione stopped and looked back at the new students.
"The area behind this door will be a common lounge. It connects to our dorm rooms. In the days to come, you can gather here with your classmates to chat, do homework, or simply relax."
She paused briefly, then added.
"But remember, magic is a very powerful thing, and you must always use it with caution."
Hermione wanted to say something, but she shut her mouth when she thought of Umbridge's "brilliant" performance in the Great Hall.
Putting herself in someone else's shoes, she also didn't want to listen to others' long-winded, useless ramblings.
"Password!" The portrait of the fat lady hanging on the wall slowly opened its eyes, surveyed the large group of young, innocent-looking wizards, and then asked, "The password for the new semester?"
"Marigold candy," Hermione replied.
"Very good," the plump lady smiled with satisfaction, and the portrait swayed slightly outward, revealing a circular passage behind the door.
"Come in." Hermione stepped aside, smiling as she gestured to the group of new students.
The children hesitated for a second, then carefully stepped into the Gryffindor common room.
The warm firelight, the red and gold decor, the velvet cushions, and the soft carpet immediately eased their tense expressions.
"This is your new home," Neville added shyly. "Don't linger in the common areas after 10 p.m. unless you want to get points deducted—and don't forget the owls will deliver your mail directly to the dorm stairwell."
"The boys' dorms are on the right-hand staircase, and the girls' are on the left," Hermione said, glancing at the few freshmen who were still in a daze. "Don't worry, you'll get used to everything here soon."
"Oh, right," Neville said as if remembering something, "the stairs are magical. Boys shouldn't try to sneak into the girls' dormitory; they'll be bounced right down."
The young wizards looked surprised and nervous, then couldn't help but giggle.
"Alright, go find your beds now. You have formal classes tomorrow." Hermione gave her an encouraging smile. "If you have any questions, feel free to come to us anytime."
The freshmen nodded and headed towards their respective staircases.
After they had all gone, Neville let out a soft sigh of relief. "The first night went pretty well, didn't it?"
"Better than I expected." Hermione smiled and looked towards the door.
Ginny was standing there, seemingly having waited for her for a long time.
Because the prefects are responsible for guiding new students to familiarize themselves with the school and introducing the location of some classrooms, they always return to the common room later than other students.
After saying goodnight to Neville, Hermione walked towards Ginny's direction.
"Let's sit down and talk."
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