In truth, Flick possessed an intelligence that far exceeded what most wizards attributed to magical plants.
The small Treant certainly wouldn't do anything rash or uncontrolled at Hogwarts—not in this place it considered a secondary home and fun place, with its curious students who occasionally left it digestive biscuits.
Although Umbridge standing before it radiated malice like heat from a furnace, in the Flick's keen perception, she posed no real threat at all.
That faint, pathetic ripple of magical power emanating from her was even weaker than the gentlest, most timid Bowtruckle hiding in the deepest parts of the forest.
If this confrontation had occurred in the outside world where a genuine dark wizard had tried such an aggressive spell, Flick's blade-sharp branches would have immediately transformed into the most lethal weapons. They would have struck without hesitation or mercy, piercing through the enemy's heart, ending the threat before the incantation could fully form.
But this was Hogwarts. This was its current home and entertaining place.
Flick remembered Adrian's instructions about restraint and appropriate responses. It understood, in its own way, Harry's intention and unspoken trust in leaving it stationed at the classroom door—the purpose was merely to obstruct unauthorized entry, not to cause serious harm.
So, after a brief moment of consideration, Flick's branches shifted their grip and carried the struggling, shrieking Umbridge toward a nearby open window whose shutters had been left open to let in the breeze.
The window overlooked the courtyard and gardens below, providing a clear path to the outside.
"No! How dare you—put me down this instant, you filthy creature! I'll have you destroyed! Burned! Chopped into—Ahh!"
Umbridge's increasingly shrill protest and escalating threats transformed abruptly into a piercing shriek of terror that echoed through the corridor and probably carried to adjacent hallways.
Flick's branches gave one decisive, almost casual flick, like someone tossing aside an unwanted piece of rubbish and the pink, bloated figure went sailing out through the window.
Her arms windmilled frantically through empty air. Her robes curled around her like a deflating balloon. Her mouth remained frozen open in that continuous scream.
It was, objectively speaking, quite a sight.
Incidentally, this particular window was located on the castle's third floor.
For an ordinary Muggle, such a fall would almost certainly result in broken bones, severe injuries, possibly death depending on the landing. But for a witch or wizard with access to magic, even one as incompetent as Umbridge appeared to be in practical spellwork, falling from the third floor... shouldn't cause any truly serious or permanent injury.
Probably.
Most likely.
After a brief moment of descent accompanied by Umbridge's fading scream growing more distant, there came a dull, heavy THUD. It seemed she had landed in one of the flowerbeds that lined the castle's exterior walls, cushioning her fall somewhat.
The impact was followed by absolute silence.
Filch, who had been standing frozen in the corridor throughout the entire confrontation like a statue carved from shock and disbelief, felt his jaw nearly detach from his skull and hit the stone floor. His eyes had gone comically wide.
For several seconds, he simply stood there, processing what he'd just witnessed.
Then, finally stimulated into action by delayed reaction, he scrambled forward on his knees with surprising speed for a man of his age and condition. He crawled to the open window and peered down nervously at the scene below.
By this time, completely unconcerned with the chaos it had created, Flick's branches had already calmly retracted like the legs of a spider folding in back to its original corner position, resuming its camouflage as an ordinary, unremarkable potted sapling.
After spotting the crumpled pink figure far below in the flowerbed, surrounded by crushed petals and soil, Filch gasped sharply and snapped back to his senses.
His gaze swept frantically across the corridor floor, searching desperately. Soon enough, he located a wand that had fallen and rolled into a corner during the struggle—it was Umbridge's, which had slipped from her grasp when Flick had first lifted her into the air.
"It's over... all over...."
He muttered to himself in a continuous stream of anxious babbling while scrambling forward to pick up the wand with trembling fingers. Then he bolted toward the nearest staircase like an ignited Blast-Ended Skrewt, not looking back even once at the classroom door.
Inside the classroom, Harry quietly closed the door that he'd opened just a crack to observe the confrontation.
He had witnessed absolutely everything that had just occurred in the corridor.
"What's the situation outside?" Hermione asked with anxiety, hurrying forward from her position. Her face showed concern and worry about potential consequences. Other students immediately gathered around as well.
Harry fell into silence for a long moment, his green eyes turned distant as if carefully choosing his words.
Finally, he simply said, "As things currently stand, there's no threat to us. Let's continue with our practice session as planned."
"Continue?" Ron asked in confusion. "What does that even mean? What happened to Umbridge? And wasn't Filch out there too? Where did they go?"
Harry's mouth twitched slightly at the corners. He clapped his hands together firmly to regain everyone's wandering attention.
"Umbridge has already... gone downstairs to handle some urgent matters," he said carefully, which was technically accurate. "She won't be bothering us anymore today. All right, everyone—back to your positions. Let's continue our Shield Charm practice. We still have at least another hour of productive training time."
The students exchanged uncertain glances but slowly returned to their practice positions, the room WAS gradually filling again with the sounds of spellcasting and defensive magic.
Ron gave Harry a long, suspicious look that clearly communicated 'I know you're hiding something and we'll talk about this later,' but he didn't press the issue in front of everyone.
Hermione looked troubled but also chose to trust Harry's judgment for now.
Meanwhile, down in the gardens by the flowerbed below the third-floor window, surrounded by the pleasant scents of flowers and fresh soil...
By sheer coincidence, Adrian happened to be passing along one of the garden paths on his way back from the greenhouses. He had been consulting with Professor Sprout about some particularly aggressive Venomous Tentacula specimens.
He witnessed firsthand, a pink figure tumbling out from a third-floor window before landing with remarkable precision directly in the soft, recently-tilled flowerbed that the house-elves had been maintaining just that morning.
Crushed petals and displaced soil flew up in a small cloud.
For a moment, Adrian simply stood there on the path, blinking in genuine surprise at this unexpected development. His mind raced through possible explanations.
Then, with curiosity thoroughly piqued and a growing suspicion about what had occurred, he walked forward at a slow pace. He approached the flowerbed and looked down at Umbridge, who lay curled up in a tight, defensive ball among the crushed flowers.
Her hair was now completely disheveled and covered abundantly with dark soil and colorful flower petals that stuck to the product she used. Her pink cardigan had torn at one shoulder. Her face was smudged with dirt.
She looked, frankly, absolutely ridiculous.
Adrian tilted his head slightly to one side, his expression showing nothing but polite, innocent puzzlement.
"Um... Professor Umbridge," he began in a gentle, caring tone that was perhaps just slightly too helpful to be entirely sincere,
"are you by any chance practicing some particular branch of magic? Is this perhaps flying magic or levitation work? I must say, if so, it doesn't appear to have been very successful. The landing technique especially needs considerable work. Perhaps I could recommend some textbooks on the subject?"
His tone remained perfectly courteous, concerned, utterly innocent of any mockery.
Umbridge had absolutely no intention whatsoever of responding to Adrian or engaging with his false attentiveness.
She struggled awkwardly to push herself up from the upturned soil, but was immediately tripped by some unknown plant and nearly fell flat on her face again.
Her face had turned purple-red with pain and anger.
Just then, interrupting this awkward scene, Filch came rushing frantically out of the castle's main entrance. He was completely out of breath, his chest was heaving, but clutching Umbridge's wand high above his head like a sacred relic or a runner's torch.
"Professor! Your wand! I've got your wand!" He shouted frantically and stumbled across the lawn toward them, nearly tripping twice over his own feet in his rush.
Umbridge snatched her wand from Filch's hand. She used the retrieved wand immediately to help steady and support herself, leaning on it like a cane as she finally managed to achieve a relatively upright position.
Her clothing was ruined. Her dignity was in tatters.
Her authority had been literally thrown out a window.
"I must inform Dumbledore immediately!" she shrieked, her voice was cracking with agitation and climbing toward hysteria. Spit flew from her lips. "That dangerous creature must be expelled from Hogwarts at once! Destroyed! Burned! I'll see it chopped into kindling! This is assault on a Ministry official! This is—"
She continued in this vein, growing increasingly shrill.
Seeing Umbridge in this utterly disheveled, nearly hysterical state, and noting Filch's presence and the trajectory of the fall from the third-floor corridor where Harry's group was meeting, Adrian quickly understood about seventy to eighty percent of what had actually happened.
"Please, try to calm yourself first, Professor Umbridge," Adrian said calmly. "Take some deep breaths. Perhaps sit down for a moment. You've had quite a shock. Now, what exactly happened? If you could explain the situation clearly and rationally, perhaps I could help address whatever problem has occurred."
His reasonable tone and practical suggestion seemed to have precisely the opposite of their intended calming effect.
Perhaps finding Adrian's very presence disagreeable and infuriating or perhaps simply needing someone to lash out at who was actually present and couldn't throw her out another window—Umbridge turned on him with abrupt fury.
"Is it connected to you, Adrian?" She demanded shrilly, her voice was climbing even higher with accusation. Her eyes were wild, slightly indistinct. "Did you order that creature to attack me? This is your doing, isn't it? You've been undermining my authority since I arrived! You and Dumbledore both!"
Adrian was now certain, it had indeed been Flick who had thrown Umbridge out the window.
As if specifically timed to confirm Umbridge's accusation and provide evidence, a faint rustling sound suddenly emanated from the direction of the castle's main entrance.
Sensing Adrian's presence nearby, Flick stretched its branches in a leisurely manner and walked out from the doorway, lightly approaching Adrian's side.
Umbridge immediately fixed Flick with a gaze mixed with fear and fury, her wand was pointing at it.
"It's this little beast!" she shrieked. "This is the creature that attacked me! Assaulted a Ministry official! It must pay for what it's done!"
However, Flick seemed not to hear her shouting and threats at all, or perhaps simply didn't care enough about the noises this strange pink creature was making to bother responding.
It merely reached out one branch and lightly touched Adrian's hand in greeting. Then, having completed this greeting, Flick turned smoothly and began heading away toward the distant tree line of the Forbidden Forest, clearly ready to return home after its successful guard duty.
Biscuits eaten. Time to go.
"Stop! Stop right there this instant!" Umbridge shrieked urgently. She tried to step forward aggressively to block Flick's path. "You're not going anywhere! I'll see you—"
"I suggest you don't do that, Professor Umbridge." Adrian's voice remained calm but carried a hint of warning. "Don't try to provoke Flick, or you'll definitely regret it."
As soon as his words fell, Flick's previously flexible branches instantly straightened, like countless swords and spears ready to strike, all pointing uniformly at Umbridge.
The tips of these branches, which had seemed almost soft and harmless moments before, now gleamed with dangerous, metallic light in the afternoon sunlight. The edges looked sharp enough to pierce armor.
The air in the garden suddenly filled with an almost, icy killing intent that made the temperature seem to drop several degrees.
Umbridge froze completely in place as if she'd been struck by a Petrificus Totalus curse. Her face went from purple-red to white in an instant as blood drained away.
She involuntarily stepped backward two stumbling paces, nearly tripping over her own feet, and no longer dared to make any attempt to obstruct or threaten Flick.
In the suffocating, tense silence that followed, suffocating at least for Umbridge, while Adrian remained perfectly relaxed, Flick held its aggressive, threatening posture for several more seconds.
Then, Flick slowly withdrew its aggressive posture. The branches relaxed gradually, returning to their normal flexible state, lowering to neutral positions. It finally waved a single branch gently in Adrian's direction before leisurely departing.
Adrian watched Flick's retreating figure with a faint smile.
In terms of pure combat ability and lethality, setting aside Bart who was in a category entirely his own, Flick was very nearly the strongest and most dangerous among all the Treants.
There was another matter worth mentioning: over this recent period of growth and development, the Treant tribe in the Forbidden Forest had expanded and grown to a truly impressive, almost terrifying scale.
Now, Treants could be found throughout most of the Forbidden Forest's vast expanse. They had become one of the forest's dominant species.
They could disguise themselves perfectly as normal, ordinary trees, hiding motionless in plain sight in almost any location, indistinguishable from the forest around them until they chose to move.
Anyone who attempted to harm even one Treant would quickly discover they'd attacked an entire forest of them.
"What... what exactly is that thing?" Umbridge demanded, though her voice had lost most of its earlier shrillness and now carried a tone of fear she couldn't suppress. "Don't you dare tell me you don't know what that creature is or where it came from."
"A Treant," Adrian answered lightly, his tone remaining casual and unconcerned as if discussing the weather or some utterly ordinary topic. "They're sentient plant creatures. They live in the Forbidden Forest, have lived there for years actually, and they're generally peaceful unless provoked or threatened. You provoked one. It responded proportionally."
He shrugged slightly.
"I would suggest learning from this experience and avoiding future confrontations."
"I absolutely will not—I refuse to allow such dangerous, uncontrolled creatures to exist at Hogwarts!" Umbridge's voice rose again as she tried desperately to force herself to appear composed and authoritative, though her voice still carried an unmistakable tremor of lingering fear.
"I will inform Headmaster Dumbledore immediately about this incident and demand that these... these violent Treants all be removed from school grounds! And I'll see that particular beast punished severely for assaulting me! It will pay for what it did!"
The idea was truly laughable.
Adrian couldn't suppress a smile. He shrugged with complete indifference, his expression showing he took none of her threats seriously.
"If you believe you can manage such a thing, you're certainly welcome to try," he said mildly. "I wish you the very best of luck in that endeavor. You'll need it."
"What do you mean by that?" Umbridge demanded shrilly.
Adrian met her angry, slightly wild gaze with calmness. His expression remained pleasant, almost amused and said casually,
"You'll find out soon enough."
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