As it turned out, working against Snape didn't end well, and Snape asked them to put a moderator in class, which was only the most difficult and laborious one, and the ingredients had to be added to the crucible in strict order and quantity, and the mixture had to be stirred to the required number of times, no more and no less.

Stirring clockwise followed by counterclockwise, when the cauldron boils, the temperature of the flame must be lowered to a certain standard, held for a certain amount of time, and then the last ingredient can be added, this complicated potion is undoubtedly a big headache for the likes of Harry and Ron, and Snape and others are such opportunities.

He criticized every Gryffindor student except for Hermione, who couldn't find anything wrong, and Neville's look of frustration and fear reminded Harry of his performance in the first Potions class, and Snape hadn't changed at all, even though he was now a member of the Order of the Phoenix and working for Dumbledore.

Harry even began to question the reliability of the Order of the Phoenix, why did Dumbledore trust Snape so much that he wouldn't revert to the side of the Death Eaters?

"Potter, are you literate? You're just cooking this is just a useless pot of garbage. With that in response, Harry brewed potions for the entire lesson, and after two flicks of his wand from Snape, vanished, the cauldron empty.

Harry was so angry that he got a zero for his homework, he put his wand back in his bag, and sat down in his seat as he watched the other classmates bring the potion from the short-necked bottle to Snape, even Neville, who made the potion hard and cement-like, did not get a zero score.

"That's really unfair."

Ron tried to comfort him, and after a long time, the bell rang and Harry was the first to rush out of the basement classroom and arrive at the auditorium early, Hermione didn't have lunch with them today, and it looked like they were going to accept a hermione this semester, which made Harry even more depressed.

The ceiling was darker and darker than it had been in the morning, and the rain was pounding on the windows high up.

"It's been a tough day." Harry frustratedly dialed the food on his plate, the first lesson of the afternoon was Sybil? Professor Trelawney's divination class, second only to Snape's Potions class in Harry's most hated class.

"At best, maybe Defence Against the Dark Arts would be interesting, you remember when Professor Lupin taught us-" Ron tried to steer the conversation in a good direction, but Harry didn't.

"Do you think that someone who gives such a boring speech at the opening dinner will teach a lecture like Professor Lupin?"

Then they walked into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, where Professor Umbridge was already sitting behind the podium, wearing the same fluffy pink cardigan she had worn the night before, with a black velvet bow on top of her head, and Harry once again thought strongly and vividly of a large fly that had foolishly landed on an even larger toad.

"Good afternoon, students!" She said as the class sat down.

A few classmates muttered "good afternoon" in response.

"Tsk, tsk," Professor Umbridge said, "that's not going to work, is it?" I want you to answer something like: 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge. 'Come again, students, good afternoon!' ”

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." They replied in unison.

"That's right," Umbridge said in a snarling voice, "it's not too hard, is it?" Put away your wand and take out your quill pen. ”

Harry's heart sank, and many of his classmates exchanged depressed glances, following the command to "put away the wand" was never a lesson that they found interesting, and the facts that happened next proved it.

Umbridge trumpeted his "Defence Against the Dark Arts back to basics" argument in class, using no wands and no spells, but simply teaching a so-called "well-arranged, theory-centered, Defence Against the Dark Arts class approved by the Ministry of Magic." ”

The classroom was as silent as an examination room, save for the rustle of quills on parchment, and Harry would now rather listen to Professor Trelawney and have them read the interpretation of that boring dream in divination class, at least without having to face a twisted and ugly face like a toad.

"Does every student have a copy of Wilbert? Slinka's Theory of Magical Defence? Umbridge asked again, and a murmur of affirmation rang out in the class, like a mournful crow on a dead tree.

Umbridge was unhappy with the cheerful atmosphere, clapping her hands and saying loudly, "I think we're going to do it again, and when I ask you a question, I want you to answer 'yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'—"

Harry let out a long sigh, he felt like he was in the mood of the opening party again, but this time he was even angrier, more frizzy, the effects of last night's fight with Seamus, in fact, not gone away, the wanton sarcasm he had in Potions class, the dream interpretation that made him drowsy in divination class, and now Umbridge.

Harry only felt that the day had been terrible, as if he had been pushed into the water, unable to breathe, his chest was suffocated, and a feeling of suffocation rose in Harry's lungs as he listened to Umbridge tell everyone to turn to the fifth page of the book and read the first chapter, 'The Fundamentals of Getting Started'.

The content of the book was boring, even more boring than Professor Binns's most boring history of magic, and the classroom was silent, as if everyone was holding their heads on their hands, keeping their eyes on the pages, and then trying to make sure they didn't fall asleep.

The air grew scorched, and Umbridge happily walked up and down the floor, as if to check that everyone had turned the book to the designated page as required, and she didn't seem to feel the boredom and depression that the students were exuding.

"It's crazy-" Harry slammed the book shut, and the class became more silent, everyone looked up at Harry, Ron opened his mouth wide and tried to reach out and pull Harry, Hermione's eyes were full of worry, and at the same time there was thoughtfulness in his eyes, as if he had thought of something.

"Honey, what were you talking about?" Umbridge walked quickly over to Harry, his little green bean-like eyes glaring at Harry, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"That's ridiculous, don't you think it's ridiculous?" Harry pushed open the magic book and stood up suddenly, he was taller than Umbridge, "We didn't learn to use defensive charms in our Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and we couldn't even touch a wand?" ”

"Harry? Porter! Umbridge bared small, sharp teeth in her mouth.

"That's my name, Professor—" Harry exclaimed, "why can't we use magic?" ”

"That's because you don't, and I can't imagine a situation in my class that would require you to use a defensive charm—" Professor Umbridge said in her sweet falsetto:

"Our latest learning program has been designed by wizards who are much older and smarter than you, and you will learn the Defense Charm in a safe, risk-free way—"

"Nonsense!" Harry shouted with a sneer, and the classroom fell silent because of his shouting, but many of his classmates nodded silently, expressions of approval on their faces, clearly supporting Harry's claims.

"Watch your words, Mr. Potter, Gryffindor deducts ten-"

Harry's anger had been churning inside him all day, and it was about to reach the breaking point.

"Voldemort has been resurrected, and the great danger is in front of us, but you, and your Ministry of Magic, are indifferent to this, and want us to continue to learn theoretical knowledge, do we have to rely on theoretical knowledge to convince Death Eaters when they threaten their lives with wands?"

Harry stood there, his voice clearly reaching everyone's ears, and his classmates staring blankly at him, Seamus? When Phinegan heard this, he looked half frightened, half curious.

"Harry, don't." Hermione whispered a warning and tugged at his sleeve, but Harry flicked his arm, not wanting her to touch him, and glared at Umbridge forcefully.

Professor Umbridge approached slowly, leaning forward, his finger-duan/thick palms unconsciously clenched into fists.

"Mr. Potter, confinement! Your nonsense has disgraced your house, and if you go on to say that, I think Hogwarts should consider whether or not you can continue to study here, maybe the Triwizard Tournament has cast a shadow on you, and I hope you will visit St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Injuries soon-"

"You're acting like a Death Eater! You're ruining our chance to learn magic! ”

"Sit down!" Professor Umbridge was expressionless, her wand was firmly held in her hand, and when she shouted 'sit down', Harry involuntarily sat back in his seat with a wave of her wand, but the next second Harry stood up suddenly.

The class gasped as they looked at Harry eagerly, holding their breath as if something big was about to happen.

"Good." Umbridge glanced at Harry, then said in the gentlest and most sassy little girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear. ”

Harry kicked away his chair, bypassed Ron and Hermione, and followed Umbridge to the podium, he was so angry that he didn't care what would happen next, or even predict what he would do.

Professor Umbridge pulled a roll of pink parchment from his handbag, flattened it on the podium, dipped her quill in an inkwell, and hurriedly began to write, and after about a minute, she rolled up the parchment and struck it with her wand, and the parchment automatically sealed so firmly that Harry could not open it.

"Honey, take this to Professor McGonagall." Professor Umbridge said as he handed the parchment to Harry.

Without saying a word, Harry took the parchment from her hand, and without looking back at any of the students in the classroom, he left the room, slammed the door slammed backhand, and hurried down the hallway, clutching the note for Professor McGonagall in his hand.

Turning a corner, he slammed into an oncoming man, and the two of them bumped into each other.

"Oh my God, Harry? Aren't you supposed to be in class? How did you go on a rampage in the hallway. ”

It was Ning An, who took a few steps back slightly, looking at Harry with a surprised expression.

"I was sent to see Professor McGonagall." Harry didn't know how he spoke, in fact he didn't want to say anything right now.

"Dismissed? Who sent you? Ning An frowned and looked at Harry thoughtfully.

"Professor Umbridge." Harry said stubbornly.

"Ah, it's her," Ning An looked like this, he nodded, and observed Harry carefully, the anger in Harry's heart slowly subsided for some reason, and he was a little uncomfortable to be looked at by Ning An.

"You should be careful of Umbridge, Harry," Ning An advised, "It's more important to control your emotions, why were you kicked out of the classroom by her?" Are you making a lot of noise in class? ”

Harry didn't speak, but he didn't immediately step away.

He looked up at Ning'an, the corridor was empty, and Harry suddenly asked, "Why did you bring Voldemort back to life?" During the Triwizard Tournament, I knew it was you pretending to be Krum, right? ”

There seemed to be an invisible wind blowing through the hallway, and the movement of raindrops wetting the Hogwarts glass came from afar, Ning looked at Harry quietly, neither of them spoke, and the corridor quietly echoed with the sound of "Xili, Xili" water.

"What stupid are you talking about, Harry." After a while, Ning An suddenly smiled, and patted Harry's head lightly when he wasn't paying attention, as if Harry was really just joking.

"You don't want to offend everyone in this school, Harry." Ning An looked into Harry's eyes seriously and said, "When Snape didn't like you, Dumbledore ignored you, and then you are making a lot of noise in Professor Umbridge's class now, you shouldn't continue to use this rumor to provoke me, understand?" ”

Harry felt some kind of invisible wind coming in through his robe and cuffs, encroaching on his skin and curling goosebumps, but Ning'an's tone did not change in the slightest, as if he were recounting a prosaic fact.

"I have to say, Hermione has raised your status in my heart a lot, but don't be too proud."

Ning An patted Harry's head, his gaze from top to bottom, as if to penetrate Harry's body, forcing him to look at him, and Harry had to look away.

He seemed to have been put under a petrification spell just now, and he couldn't think of moving at all, until Ning An's gaze was away, and he breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.

"And there's a smell of you, Harry." Ning An suddenly said: "A smell that I am familiar with, have you been dealing with poisonous snakes recently?" ”

"What?" There was a hint of panic in Harry's voice.

"Beware of snake bites, this creature is hard to trust." Ning An said meaningfully, turned around and left.

Harry only then remembered that he was going to Professor McGonagall's office, when a cold wind blew through him, and he stood there and shivered unconsciously.