Chapter 1200 Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical Lesson
Hermione, who was in solitary confinement, now agreed very much with what Vincent said: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
Fortunately, she was the first student to be punished. If it were someone else, the double torture of physical and mental suffering would probably leave a psychological trauma that would be incurable for a lifetime.
This is Hogwarts, not Umbridge's testing ground. When dealing with such extreme perverts, we cannot simply retaliate with an eye for an eye. For the physical and mental health of all students in the school, we must retaliate double.
Under Umbridge's gaze, Hermione seemed to be putting the black quill into the ink bottle again, but in fact she was quietly infiltrating magic power into the inside of the quill.
As an entry-level alchemist, this method of deconstructing magic items is the most basic of the basics.
Just as she thought, the structure of the black feather pen was not complicated, and the curse that kept it functioning properly was not difficult to break.
The Silence and Wand covered the back of his hand with a layer of simple magic, even if it was just a Disillusionment Charm, the words on the parchment would not be engraved on the back of his hand at the same time.
After Hermione finished dipping her hands in ink, she suddenly looked up and met Umbridge's evil eyes.
Practice is indeed a dangerous thing, but if there is only theory and no practice, is the Defense Against the Dark Arts class still a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?
The sharp tip of the pen touched the parchment, and the dark red ink quickly turned into a curse word.
"Ah—" Umbridge suddenly screamed.
Her eyes widened and she looked down at the back of her left hand.
Although it was only a momentary pain, she clearly saw a fleeting flash of red.
The pain came again, and this time she clearly saw the back of her hand being cut. Then the wound expanded into the word "pig" and finally healed quickly.
Umbridge glared at Hermione fiercely, "Granger! What on earth have you done!"
Hermione blinked her bright eyes. "Strange, aren't you the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Why are you asking me this kind of question?"
Umbridge slammed her chubby little hands on the table, her eyes were bigger than copper bells, and her cheeks were bulging, just like an angry toad.
"Granger!"
Hermione's clear and bright eyes were full of innocence, and she scratched on the parchment several times in a wronged manner.
"Ouch—" Umbridge covered the back of her left hand tightly in pain.
Yin-Yang ink is really a good thing. A simple stroke can become a complete word, bringing exponentially more physical pain.
Umbridge's eyes were filled with resentment, "Granger! I order you to stop immediately!"
Hermione innocently scratched the parchment a few more times. "Shouldn't I keep writing until this sentence is engraved in my heart? I'm a model student in school, so I'll be done soon."
It was really sinister of her to return Umbridge's words exactly as they were said.
"Ah ...
The sound was too harsh, so Hermione sealed her ears with magic and then quickly tapped the parchment with a black feather pen a dozen times.
The shrill scream turned into a scream, and Umbridge's facial features were twisted into a ball, as if the skin on the back of her hand was being repeatedly cut by dozens or even hundreds of slender scalpels at the same time.
But this was far from over. Even greater pain slowly crept up along the back of the hand, through the arm to the shoulder, and then spread down to the whole body.
Umbridge slumped in the chair, her body twitching. She wanted to reach out for her wand, but she pulled it back in great pain.
She had no choice but to hold tightly to the lace tablecloth on the small table, and looked at Hermione who was writing faster and faster in the corner with extremely resentful and malicious eyes.
"You...you...you ignorant little bitch!"
Umbridge's big pink toad face turned a terrible purple-red, like a piece of expired ham. "I repeat, stop it right now, or I will... I will..."
The endless pain caused her to accidentally bite her tongue. The bloody taste in her mouth gave her great stimulation, and her eyes, as big as copper bells, seemed about to fall out at any time.
Under such repeated torture, her whole body twitched violently and she used all her strength to let out a scream that echoed throughout the castle. Then her head tilted and she completely lost consciousness.
Hermione, who was in the corner of the office, heard nothing. After finishing writing on one piece of parchment, she picked up a new piece of parchment.
Two, three, four...
After collecting seven sheets of parchment, Hermione put down her black quill and stretched.
Using the Dispelling Spell for a long time to transfer the selected objects of the Dark Magic Items was too exhausting, and writing seven sheets of paper was almost the limit.
She looked at the magic communicator on her wrist and saw that less than an hour had passed.
She raised her little head curiously, and saw Umbridge sitting on the chair not moving at all. No wonder she hadn't come to stop her after writing for so long. It turned out that she couldn't bear the pain.
Sympathy is non-existent, guilt is non-existent.
Hermione's mind was full of regrets now. She should have taken it slow and steady, increasing her intensity bit by bit.
Feeling somewhat depressed, she stood up, walked to Umbridge, and patted the toad's face covered with red marks with seven rolled-up pieces of parchment.
No response, could he be dead?
Hermione took a deep breath and glanced quickly down at Umbridge's slightly rising and falling chest.
It's such a misfortune that the person didn't die - bah, that should be good news.
She endured the dual discomfort, both physical and mental, and squinted her eyes as she leaned closer to Umbridge's big toad face covered with red marks.
Although it's not very obvious, I can still vaguely recognize a few words.
This black feather pen is so evil. What if the trauma is permanent and she faints from laughing?
"Ahem—" Hermione slowed down a little, looked at it carefully for a while, and found that the word "Pussy hoes" on the forehead was particularly obvious.
The part of the body to which the Dispelling Spell is transferred is random, and the words that the Yin-Yang ink turns into are also random. One can only say that Umbridge is too lucky, or that old man Merlin thinks this word is suitable for Umbridge, so it keeps appearing on her forehead.
Hermione unfolded the seven rolled sheets of parchment and placed them neatly and thoughtfully on the wrinkled lace tablecloth.
"Professor Umbridge, the first Defense Against the Dark Arts practical class is over."
After saying that, she turned and left the office without any guilt.
The corridor outside was crowded with students, who must have heard Umbridge's miserable cry.
"Are you ok?"
Facing everyone's concerns, Hermione smiled and nodded, "I'm fine, better than ever."
If she's fine, then Umbridge is fine.
With a "bang", Fred and George each lit a handful of Weasley Whoosh-Bang fireworks.
Under their leadership, the worries on the students' faces disappeared and they cheered loudly for victory.
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