Thanks to my beta Lisa, my pre-betas Dancinginmagic, Lady Padfoot, and Kelleypen. Thank you also to everyone who gave me encouragement (in the Cacophony, etc.), including Hewithnoname, Govcampbell, Katieay, and Ari.
This is a humorous fic, born of the “The Doom of Dolores Umbridge” thread in the Perch. Due to the fact that this was written mainly for humor, the professors are slightly out of character.
I hope you enjoy!
The last time you checked, Harry Potter, his friends, acquaintances, and world belonged to J.K. Rowling. I assure you that that won’t be changing any time soon.
“She’s what?!” Minerva McGonagall asked. She grabbed the paper that Dumbledore held to stare incredulously at it. “Dolores Umbridge… Undersecretary… paid leave? Holiday in Majorca!?” She pulled the paper down to shift her gaze to Dumbledore. “Albus, you can’t possibly let her get away with this. The reason I didn’t protest when she left the school freely was that I expected her to get some sort of humiliating demotion. Not--” she scanned the letter “—‘paid leave to go on a much-needed and well-earned holiday in Majorca.’”
“My dear Professor McGonagall, I agree with you, especially after what the woman did to young Harry--”
“Potter?” she interrupted sharply. “What’s this got to do with Potter?”
Dumbledore blinked in surprise. “Why, I thought you knew. Dolores would have used the Cruciatus Curse on Harry if Miss Granger had not interfered. She also used a Dark Object on Harry in his detention while he did lines-- a pen that required him to use his own blood for ink. He was not the only one either. I believe Mr. Jordan was also among the names of those who suffered.”
“My students? How could she—we can’t possibly—you can’t let her get away with this!”
“I am afraid, Professor, that my hands are tied in this case.” He held up a tangle of string in what looked to be a game of Cat’s Cradle. “Terrible, what that woman did.” He cast a side-long glance a McGonagall. “Pity there’s nothing I can do.”
McGonagall appeared to be thinking very hard about something. “You leave it to me, Albus. I’ll make sure that foul woman gets what she deserves.” She strode to the exit and paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Erm--”
“I was terribly distracted by the trials of creating Jacob’s Ladder, Professor, and I didn’t catch a word you just said,” Dumbledore said as he stared intently at the tangle in his hand, eyes twinkling in amusement.
“Erm, right,” McGonagall said as she regained her composure and left out the door.
McGonagall burst into the Hospital Wing. “Poppy?” she called as she searched the wing. “Poppy Pomfrey? I need—oh, this dratted leg.” She stopped and sat on one of the beds to massage her leg.
Madame Pomfrey bustled into the room. “I thought I heard—Minerva? What’s wrong?”
“You know that Dolores Umbridge has gone on a holiday?”
Pomfrey pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Yes. I quite expected her to get sacked. Or receive a demotion at the very least.”
“Do you know what she did to Potter?” Eyes flashing, McGonagall revealed what she’d been told.
“Why that foul—that loathsome—that boy spends enough time here as it is! I don’t need him to start coming to me with complications from a Dark Object that he was forced to use by his teacher. That boy spends enough time doubting himself and feeling guilty for things beyond his control. I don‘t even want to think about what that woman‘s torture is going to do to his delicate psyche after he just lost his godfather.” Madame Pomfrey’s voice grew more heated with each syllable she spoke. “What is it you need from me then, Minerva?”
“I’m going after her. She had no right--” McGonagall paused to compose herself. “I’m afraid I was rather hard on Potter this year and urged him not to provoke Umbridge and to simply accept his punishments from her. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t come to me. I confess, I feel rather--” Words seemed to fail her for a moment and when she continued speaking it was in a wavering, uncertain tone of voice. “--I feel rather guilty for that now that I understand why he was so desperate to avoid the woman. But I am not going to let her get away with it.” Her eyes seemed to shine, revealing her steely determination to accomplish her task. “Now then, what I need from you . . . Despite the Healing I had at St. Mungo’s, my leg never did return completely to normal after I tried to help Hagrid defend himself from the attacks by Umbridge and the wizards she led. We both know that you fly circles around any of those Healers at St. Mungo’s when it comes to mending bones. I need you to do something about this dratted leg so that I’m not hindered by it.”
“I see,” she said, examining her leg. “Well, you’ll need a dose of Pepper-up Potion, at the very least and,” she paused to think. “Tell me, Minerva,” she said slowly. “Do you recall Potter’s game in his second year, when that fool, Lockhart, tried to heal him?”
McGonagall grimaced. “A little too well, I should think. Why do you--” she looked at Pomfrey. “Oh Poppy, no. Surely that isn’t necessary.”
Pomfrey shrugged her shoulders apologetically. “I’m afraid I see no way around it.”
“Very well then, get on with it.” She waved a hand impatiently.
Pomfrey screwed up her face in concentration. “I’m going to have to do this incorrectly . . . Merlin, this is strange. Bracchium Emendo.” And with a great twirl of her wand, McGonagall’s leg went limp; her bones had completely disappeared.
“Merlin’s beard!” She gasped. “That feels odd! Ugh, how did Potter stand it? Well, don’t just stand there, Poppy, give me the Skele-gro.”
Pomfrey handed over the requested potion, along with a small vial of Pepper-up Potion. McGonagall downed both in a few gulps, and settled in for what she assumed would be a painful afternoon. After all, as Pomfrey herself said, “Re-growing bones is a nasty business.”
“Ah, my Inner Eye showed me that I would soon be going on a journey of great importance, accompanied by one who’s Vision is clouded with doubt from the mundane world,” Professor Trelawney announced from the doorway in her misty tones.
“Oh, drop the charade, Sibyll, there are no students around,” Madame Pomfrey said irritably.
At the same time, Professor McGonagall crossly demanded “What are you prattling on about now, Sibyll?”
“Very well,” Trelawney replied, dropping her dulcet tones and adopting a more normal manner of speech. “I’m coming with you.”
“What?” McGonagall asked, startled. “I had rather hoped to take Hagrid with me. He was attacked by that woman as well--”
“Hagrid is . . . unavailable at the moment, Minerva,” Trelawney said, shooting her a glance that implied he was up to something important. “And besides,” her demeanor took on a vaguely threatening edge. “That woman tried to vacate me from my home where I have lived for sixteen years. I don’t take that lightly.” She let a dangerous grin escape. “Dear Severus was ever-so-kind to donate a Confusing Concoction and a simple Sleeping Draught to our cause. We’ll just slip old Dolores the Confusing Concoction first to trick her into accepting the Sleeping Draught from us, and then we Portkey outside Hogwarts.”
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “And just why are we bringing that foul woman back to Hogwarts? I highly doubt that even the animals--” she broke off to stare at Trelawney, who was letting a wide grin unfurl across her face. “So that’s your plan,” she whispered. “Why Sibyll, that’s positively perfect.”
“I only have a couple problems to work out, which I’m sure that you can help me with. One,” she began, “once, we Portkey outside Hogwarts, how do we get her there? I hardly think we can carry the fat frog all the way there”
McGonagall looked thoughtful. “I can think of a house-elf called Dobby who is particularly loyal to Albus and Potter. I’m sure that if we let what Dolores did slip, we could engage his services.”
“Perfect,” Trelawney declared. “Poppy, would you mind asking Pomona to take care of that?”
“Not at all.”
“Two,” she began to pace. “How do we keep her there?”
“A variation on the Locking Charm should work. I believe the incantation would be Claudo Silva a Dolores Umbridge. I suppose I should ask Filius to be certain. Poppy, would you open a Floo connection for me?”
“Minerva, in your condition, you can hardly--”
“Oh, right, the leg.” She dug in her pocket and produced a mirror. “Filius? Filius, are you there?”
“Yes, Minerva, I’m here. What’s the trouble?”
“Oh, no trouble, Filius. I just have a question for you.”
“Ask away!” he squeaked.
“Suppose—and this is a hypothetical situation of course—just suppose that one wanted to trap a specific person in the Forbidden Forest. How would one go about doing that?”
“It’s a rather simple charm, a variation of the Locking Charm,” Flitwick was off on a lecture, as McGonagall shot Trelawney and Pomfrey a triumphant glance. “The first bit is of course Claudo, the Locking Charm itself. Then—you said in the Forbidden Forest?—then, you’d add Silva, for the forest. Then you simply say ‘a’ and add the name of the person whom you wish to entrap.”
“And the wand movements, Filius?”
“Rather like Wingardium Leviosa; swish and flick. Minerva--” his voice grew suspicious. “—what did you say this was for?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing, Filius. Let’s just say that I’ve got a bit of umbrage to settle with someone.”
“Where’s the Portkey?”
“Right here—Ow! You didn’t have to hit me!”
“Well I wasn’t the one who decided to hide in a closet of all things.”
“Well, this way no one would see us!”
“What about someone with the Inner Eye?” the voice asked sarcastically.
A pause. And then, smack!
“Ow! Now you hit me!”
A moment later, silence reigned as the Portkey activated and took them to Majorca, where it was rumored that Dolores Umbridge could be found.
Dolores Umbridge spat out her Vodka and Orange as two of her former colleagues appeared next to her. “Minerva! Sibyll!” she cried, apparently delightedly. “W-Whatever are you doing here?”
“Just come to share a drink with an old colleague,” McGonagall said nonchalantly, holding up a small bottle of what was labeled ‘Vodka.’ Can I refresh that drink for you, Dolores?”
Without waiting for an answer, Trelawney snatched the glass from her hand and enthusiastically poured in the “Vodka.”
Umbridge nervously accepted the glass back. “Now, Minerva, Sibyll, you do know better than to poison a Ministry official, don’t you? After all,” she simpered, “I hate to think what Cornelius would say if he had yet another problem with the Hogwarts staff.”
“Why you--” Trelawney made for her with arms outstretched as though to strangle her as Umbridge took a sip to hide the nervous expression that had crossed her face, but McGonag