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 McGonagall held her back.
“Dolores, I can say with complete honesty that what Sibyll put in that glass was not poison.”
But by this point, Umbridge was already staring up at McGonagall with a bleary-eyed expression. “Bwah?”
“Give her the Sleeping Draught, Minerva.” Panting heavily, but seemingly recovered from her bout of rage, Trelawney turned to McGonagall who complied. “How long until the Portkey reactivates?”
“About thirty minutes.”
She plucked the Vodka and Orange out of Umbridge’s slack grip, and tapped it gently with her wand to remove the Confusing Concoction that she’d slipped in earlier. “No sense in wasting this then.”
They landed with a solid thump! on the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds, carrying a limp body between them.
“Good evening, misses,” Dobby said, bowing as he landed in front of them with a crack like a whip. He glared disapprovingly at Umbridge’s comatose body. “This is the one?”
Trelawney and McGonagall nodded curiously.
He seemed to gather his courage for a moment before he strode up to Umbridge, who groaned as she began to stir. Then, he delivered a quick kick to her shins. Dobby ran behind McGonagall, pulling his ears as he went. “That was for Mr. Harry Potter Sir, his Wheezies, Miss Herminny, and Hogwarts!” he declared furiously, his voice muffled from speaking directly into McGonagall’s robes. “Harry Potter and his friends is kind to Dobby. You is hurting them. Now, you has to be punished.”
“Where is you wanting her, misses?” he squeaked, looking up at the professors.
“To the edge of the Forbidden Forest, please Dobby.”
They Apparated with a crack! and McGonagall and Trelawney started forward, dragging the awakening Umbridge along. When they didn’t hear Dobby Disapparate immediately, they turned around to see him still standing there.
He scuffed the dirt with one socked toe. “Dobby is—Dobby is wanting to watch,” he said hesitantly.
McGonagall smiled approvingly. “It’s only right. Come along then, Dobby.”
They strode into the forest four in row. Umbridge finally awoke with a gasp and began to shriek.
“Oh, do calm yourself, Dolores,” McGonagall said irritably. I’ve had quite enough of your shrill voice this year. Enough to last me a lifetime, I’d say.”
“Here, here,” Trelawney muttered.
Dobby stifled a giggle and did his very best to appear threatening, which, given his size, was no small feat (if you’ll pardon the pun).
"Now then, come along Dolores," Professor McGonagall said as she and Trelawney pulled Umbridge along between them.
"W-What are you doing?" Umbridge asked scrambling to keep up.
"Well, you see Dolores I take offense to not only the fact that you questioned the way perfectly competent teachers ran their classes, but also that I was attacked when simply trying to help a friend. However, I think that I could have stood that. But then Dolores, then--" the light reflected menacingly off of McGonagall's spectacles "--I find out that you threatened students (some of them with the Cruciatus curse, no less) and used a Dark Artifact on them? Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Jordan, four Weasley siblings, Miss Lovegood, Miss Granger, Potter—did I leave anyone out Sibyll?"
“I’m certain there are many we don’t know about just the same, Minerva.”
“Not only that, but you sent Dementors, some of the most foul creatures to ever walk this earth, after Potter.” She took a deep, calming breath. “I’m surprised that I didn’t suspect you of that in the first place, now that I think of it. You would share a certain quality with the Dementors.” Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “You both manage to suck the life out of any room you enter.”
“Oh, get on with it, Minerva,” Trelawney said impatiently.
“Hmmm, very well.” She turned back to Umbridge. “Do you know Dolores, that I tried to put up with you presence at Hogwarts? I even encouraged Potter to attend your unjustified detentions--”
“He was trying to undermine the Ministry!” Umbridge shrieked, outraged.
“If the Ministry and its affiliates are threatened by the actions of a fifteen year-old boy, I hardly think that it is a suitable government in a time of crisis!” McGonagall snapped back, losing her composure slightly.
“Aha!” Umbridge yelled in triumph. “So you admit it! You think the Ministry is ‘unsuitable’ to lead the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You’re trying to stage a coup! I knew it!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “I just knew it! Just wait ‘til Cornelius hears about this. Drugging a Ministry official, undermining Magical Government, slander . . . you wouldn’t happen to have another crime you’d like to add to the list, would you Minerva?” she trilled victoriously.
She took a deep calming breath. “You see, Dolores, you didn’t let me finish. After I learned about the terror and pain you inflicted during your--” she smirked “—brief stay as Headmistress and Professor, I couldn’t let you get away with it, especially not on a holiday. Your humiliation and that brief foray into the Forest weren’t enough for me. I longed—no, I thirsted for more . . . and I wasn’t the only one.
"Ah, we've arrived," announced Trelawney, once more adopting her mysterious tones. "And now, Dolores, Dolly—may I call you Dolly?-- you meet your fate.” A cruel smile blossomed on her face as Umbridge showed a look of dawning horror.
Umbridge turned, gaping, to see the Forbidden Forest looming over her. "You intend to leave me here?!" she shrieked. "I'll have you know that under the Ministry of Magic Law, Article G, Subsection D, it is unlawful to attempt to imprison a Ministry personnel--”
"--Funny thing, that," interrupted McGonagall. "Have you heard about all of the recent Death Eater attacks in Majorca? You were listed as missing. A search party went out, but to no avail. Of course, all of us at Hogwarts were so upset to hear that our dear colleague had gone missing. We joined the search right away. But no one found a trace of you. It's such a shame, but no one even thought to look for you in the Forbidden Forest. And even if they had, no one would have ventured inside. I mean, let’s face it," she said laughing, "Do you know what's in there? Oh, it’s tragic, very tragic indeed," she sighed.
Umbridge's back stiffened. "Very well then. I'll be needing my wand," she muttered to herself as she searched the pockets of her robes for it.
Trelawney produced it from her pocket. "Oh, your wand, Dolly dear? I wonder what happened to it, Minerva?"
"I haven’t the faintest idea." McGonagall said as she shoved Umbridge into the Forest.
“Claudo Silva a Dolores Umbridge,” Trelawney and McGonagall raised their wands in tandem and spoke simultaneously.
"Y-You cannot do this to me." Umbridge looked imploringly, at one after another, searching for some sign of doubt. When she found no trace of sympathy, she took a step back.
"Hmm, you know, that's funny, Minerva because I thought that we already did," said Trelawney as she casually snapped Umbridge's wand in two.
"Yes, Sibyll, she's wrong again."
“The Forest creatures is taking care of you now, miss,” Dobby said, a menacing grin looking out-of-place on his elfin face.
"You know, Dolly darling, I remember a time when you asked me for a prediction," Trelawney said as she leaned towards Umbridge. "I admit, at the time you had me stumped, but now?" Her eyes seemed to see beyond Umbridge for a moment. "Oh, now I See a big change in your future. In fact," Trelawney's face took on an uncharacteristic smirk, "it's positively giant."
"Oh, and Dolores?" McGonagall said as she pointed to something behind her. "I think he likes your bow."
“I will--” Trelawney clutched at the stitch in her side as she whooped with laughter. “Treasure that memory for the rest of my life.”
“I know what you mean, Sibyll.” McGonagall wiped at a happy tear as it escaped from the corner of her eyelid. “It will warm me in years to come when my fire can not.”
“We managed to include nearly everyone in Hogwarts in our revenge as well.”
“You know Sibyll, you’re not so ba—wait, Hogwarts?”
“No,” McGonagall breathed. “Oh, Merlin, no.”
“What is it, Minerva?”
“We—forgot—about—the Order,” she said, punctuating each bit with a bang of her head upon the wall.
“How can we fix this?”
“They’re going to fry us,” Trelawney said hopelessly, gazing horror-struck at some point that no one else could see.
Their gazes met. “The Weasleys.”
They paused, their minds racing to find a solution. “Maybe--” McGonagall turned hopeful eyes to her ally. “Fred and George might send a cursed owl into the Forest for her? They’re opening a new joke shop, right? Maybe that will be enough to placate the rest?” Trelawney suggested hesitantly.
McGonagall looked at her disbelievingly. “Have you seen a Weasley when they’re angry? That won’t be nearly enough for them. No, we’re doomed.”
There was a pause as Trelawney mulled this over. “Suppose we call an Order meeting,” she said slowly, seeming to think as she spoke. “Do you know anyone who has a Pensieve that we can borrow?”
“I believe Albus has one.”
“We could show them what happened, from start to finish, and then ask them to contribute their ideas. We could make it seem as though we always intended to have them help.”
“That could work,” said McGonagall. “We’ll need to find the biggest envelope possible. It’s not easy to fit curses into an envelope, and I’m certain we’ll be sending several along after the meeting.”
Trelawney drew a feather from within her robes. “Victoria en iustitia.” The feather glowed brightly for a moment before becoming warm in her hand. “Give it about an hour. They should show up at Headquarters shortly.”
“What about Potter and Miss Granger?”
“Didn’t you say that they were staying at Headquarters?”
McGonagall frowned. “Yes, and I can’t imagine Potter’s too pleased with the situation.”
“Nevertheless, they’ll be there. We’ll simply invite them to join the meeting.”
Once they had agreed to a plan of action, they set off. McGonagall’s heels echoed down the stone hall with a click-clack sound and Trelawney’s bangles jingled a curiously ominous melody.
“The closest place is that Room of Requirement that Potter and his friends used last year,” McGonagall huffed as they strode rapidly up and down the hallway once… twice… three times.
Trelawney grasped the doorknob firmly when it appeared and swung open the door. Flames crackled merrily from within five different fireplaces. On the mantles were jars filled with Floo powder. A table was littered with old boots, hairbrushes, quills, and snow globes; a collection of things that could only be Portkeys.
They wasted no time in walking to separate fireplaces. Taking a pinch of Floo powder each, they flung the powder into the fires.
“Number 12 Grimmauld Place!” And they vanished in swirls of green flames.
They collided in the fireplace of the Order headquarters, filthy and cross.
“Get out of my way, Sibyll.”
They elbowed each other as each fought to get out of the fireplace first. Shouts erupted from rooms upstairs and their fight grew more intense. Neither would ever admit it, but they both had insatiably curious souls. Especially when it concerned the Weasleys, Harry, or Hermione.
Finally, Trelawney tumbled out of the fireplace after a particularly vicious shove from McGonagall. There she sat, undignified on the floor, as McGonagall stepped serenely out of the fire and straightened her hat.
“Come, Sybill, we have a meeting to get to,” she said as she started towards the steps.
Trelawney followed in her wake, stomping and muttering the whole way. “I’ll give you meeting, you dirty, rotten, no-good, piece of--”
“Now Sybill, is that any way for a professor of your— ahem-- caliber to speak?” Remus asked, grinning slightly as he stepped out from the kitchen.
“He’s quite right, Sybill,” said McGonagall from halfway up the stair. “Remus, can I assume that it was Potter who was doing the shouting?”
Remus winced. “Um, not exactly. Harry’s mellowed quite a bit. He doesn’t seem to have such a violent temper anymore.”
“So then who…?” Trelawney trailed off as her eyes trailed up the stairway.
“I don’t need this from you, Ron!” Hermione shrieked as she came barreling down the stairs. “I am allowed to write to boys besides you and Harry! They only wanted help on their summer assignments! I have every right!”
Ron followed not a foot behind her. “Oh that’s right, you have plenty of pen friends, don’t you Hermione?” he said nastily. “How’s darling Vicky these days?”
“For the love of—I told you that I stopped writing to Victor ages ago! Get it through your thick skull!”
Harry and Ginny ended the procession with amused grins on their faces. The volume of the argument steadily increased until Ron was bellowing into Hermione’s face (his ears a flaming red) and Hermione was shrieking shrilly back.
“What are you doing with these guys, Hermione? Do they pay you for your help?” he sneered, then slowly a look of guilt began to dawn upon his face.
They heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath. “Why you--” Hermione hissed angrily, before plunging her hand into her pocket for her wand and then several things happened in rapid succession.
Hermione shouted, a look of intense concentration on her face, as a flash of light shot out from her wand
Ron’s eyes widened in shock, but he seemed rooted to the spot
Harry dove for Ron as Ginny simultaneously tackled Hermione to the floor
And McGonagall shouted “Miss Granger!” in a shocked voice, while Trelawney and Remus stared in slack-jawed disbelief at the scene before them.
Hermione wriggled out from under the tangle of bodies to survey the scene before her, as Ron did the same.
He looked at her in shock. “You—you really tried to hit me, didn’t you?”
Hermione looks halfway sorry before a look of fury crossed her features once more. “Well I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t said what you did!”
“Well if you hadn’t--” and the battle began once more.
Harry straightened from the floor and walked over to Ginny to help her up. “They’re at it again,” he commented idly, as if watching a favorite television program.
“I’m disappointed in Ron,” Ginny said sadly.
Harry turned to her curiously, but looked reluctant to ask. “Why?”
Ginny sported a wicked grin. “You’d think by now he’d have figured out something else to do with all their free time.”
Harry guffawed appreciatively. “Ginny!” he said, half-exasperatedly.
Trelawney had finally had it. “ENOUGH!” she bellowed. All four of them jumped, knocking Harry’s glasses off one ear.
They turned to her with faces of shock, mouths hanging open, and glasses askew.
Trelawney coughed and turned sadly to Harry. “Oh, my dear boy, it is good to see that you are enjoying your life right now,” she said, patting his hand consolingly and resuming her mystical tones. “But I fear that you will have precious little to laugh about, for soon--” she was cut off as McGonagall whapped the back of her head.
“Ow!” She turned to McGonagall. “Again with the hitting, Minerva?” she asked sadly. “I thought we had discussed that this is not a productive outlet for your feelings of aggression--”
“Oh, stop it Sibyll,” McGonagall snapped. “Now then, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, Potter, Weasley… we’ve called a meeting of the Order.”
There was a bit of general grumbling at this as the group trudged toward the stairs.
“Where are you going? You’re invited to this one.”
They froze and turned around, looking at each in shocked disbelief. Harry was the first to speak up. “But… Professor,” he said hesitantly. “We’ve never been allowed before…”
This prompted a wave of responses from the others.
“You’ve gone nutters.”
“There’s no reason that this time is any different.”
“Mum will never let us.”
“Quiet,” McGonagall said with authority. Silence prevailed. “Mr. Weasley, I assure you that I am in full possession of my mental facilities. Miss Granger, I have a very valid reason for insisting that you attend this meeting. And Miss Weasley, your mother will understand this time.” She surveyed their stunned expressions. “Now then, follow me.” She led them to the kitchen, where nearly every member had arrived.
“Who are we waiting for?” asked Bill curiously.
A distinct sound, like a car backfiring, echoed through the kitchen. Mundungus wavered on his feet. “Sorry, ‘m ‘Slate,” he slurred. And collapsed into the nearest chair.
Molly was eyeing her two children, Harry, and Hermione with the light of battle in her eyes. “What are you lot doing here? You know you’re not to interrupt Order meetings.”
“I asked them here, Molly. This concerns them. Now, if you’ll all settle down—Molly, we’ll send them out after their part—if you’ll settle down, we have some business to discuss. Where’s Severus?”
“He couldn’t make it.”
“It has come to our attention,” piped up Trelawney, “that a certain Undersecretary to the Minister thought she’d take a restful vacation. She hasn’t been demoted, sacked, or had anything done that even resembles a punishment.”
“So we took matters into our own hands.” McGonagall began to pace. “Dolores--”
“--Umbridge now resides in the Forbidden Forest. A ward is set on it. She can not get out.”
“And Hagrid’s ‘little brother’ is making her feel quite welcome,” said Trelawney with an evil grin.
Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were staring at their teachers with something akin to disbelief etched plainly on their features.
“But it isn’t enough. We knew that all of you would want in on the revenge, especially after what she did to the students… an attempt at the Cruciatus, and a blood quill.”
The features of every member grew furious. “What are we going to do about it?” Molly asked menacingly.
“Well, we borrowed the Ministry’s biggest envelope.” Trelawney took the teeny envelope from her robes, returned it to its normal size, and then performed an Engorgement Charm on it. The result was an envelope that towered over all of them.
Hermione’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension, and she started whispering frantically to the others. Many of the adults had confused looks on their faces.
“Would you like to share with the rest of the class, Hermione?” Remus called out amusedly.
Hermione’s cheeks flushed a bright pink as she straightened up. “They want to send spells by owl post,” she said. “I only know about it because of some of the hate mail I received in our fourth year. One of them threatened to send me a curse by owl post as soon as they found a big enough envelope. I was wondering if it was possible, so I did some checking…”
“And it is?” Ron guessed with a cheeky grin.
Hermione glared at him, lips pursed. She obviously had not forgotten the earlier incident. “Yes. It is.”
Ginny’s eyes lit up. “So you all want to hex Umbridge by sending her that?” she asked delightedly, pointing to the envelope.
Harry’s grin threatened to split his face. “And we--” he pointed to himself, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione “—get to help?” He and Ginny exchanged gleeful looks, sporting identical grins, ones that hungered for revenge. Ron rubbed his hands together fiendishly, and a bloodthirsty look came onto Hermione’s face as she searched her pockets for her wand.
The adults found themselves suddenly afraid. They exchanged fearful glances amongst themselves. “Maybe—“
“Right then.” Ron’s voice came suddenly. They turned to find themselves facing the business ends of four wands and four vicious grins. “When can we start?”
There was a great deal of conferring amongst them.
Each of the Weasleys felt that they had something to contribute. Fred and George had reluctantly agreed to only one spell between them, asking for just a few moments to work their latest product into a new spell.
“You probably wouldn’t have wanted it on the shelf anyway, Harry,” Fred said idly while waving his wand lazily at a simple tablet sitting on the table.
“Right, you are brother mine,” said George.
“What is it?” Harry asked warily.
“It’s nothing really--”
“—just a little something we worked out.”
“Doesn’t do much.”
“Just makes the user start babbling stuff about Harry Potter--”
“--And him being their only hope from Voldemort.”
Harry stared at them. He was slightly dizzy from turning his head side to side, trying to keep up with them. “You were actually going to sell these things?” he asked, aghast.
“You’ve got quite the fan base, you know Harry,” George said, winking at him.
“You’re insane,” Harry said staring at them unbelievingly.
“Ah! How you wound us Harry!” Fred clutched at his chest and grimaced dramatically.
“Indeed,” George agreed solemnly. “I wouldn’t say that we’re insane, just--” he paused “—well, actually, insane works.
Charlie’s turn was over rather quickly. He simply suggested the Conjunctivitis Curse, and said the proper incantation.
Bill’s grin was reminiscent of the twins. “I learned this working with the goblins in Egypt.”
“And what does it do, dear?” Molly asked distractedly, twirling her wand and eyeing Bill’s ponytail with a speculative gleam in her eyes.
Bill looked uncomfortably at his mother. “Well… whenever Umbridge performs a certain—ahem—bodily function, it won’t be just a scent that comes out. It will look like the Sahara Desert just exploded out of her.”
“Aw, no!” Ron said in disappointment. They all turned to look at him curiously. “I was going to make her belch something!”
Bill coughed. “She won’t be burping, Ron.”
“Then what—Oh,” Ron said in sudden comprehension.
An uncomfortable silence followed. “Well then,” Hermione said, waving her hand at Bill. “Get on with it.”
So Bill did his bit and they moved on.
They next came to Ron. The entire room looked at him expectantly. They already knew that Umbridge was going to belch something… but what?
“Well,” said Ron, turning to Harry and Hermione. “D’you remember our second year, Hermione when Malfoy called you a--”
“—Yes, I remember, Ron,” Hermione said, blushing faintly.
“Right, well at the time the hex didn’t work as I’d hoped, but I hardly had a proper wand, did I? I ‘spect by now I’ve got it working all right.”
By this point, they were more than a little curious.
“What are you going to do, Ronniekins?” Fred burst out.
Ron turned to them with a fiendish glint in his eyes, and they stepped back, more than a little afraid. “Well, I’d think it was obvious, Freddie. You were there too, after all. Umbridge is going to be belching up slugs for quite a while.”
The Weasley children and Harry laughed appreciatively, and Mrs. Weasley looked torn between amusement and disapproval.
Ron performed the incantation and wand movements. They were uncertain as to who would go next, but Mrs. Weasley, stepping forward, decided for them.
“Well, this was a spell that I always kept up my sleeve in case you children ever stepped too far out of line.”
Their curiosity was peaked. Fred and George looked at each other. This had to be good, if it had never even been used on them.
“I call it the Potty Mouth Hex. As out of hand as some of you--” she glared at Fred and George, who gulped—“might have gotten, I never felt the need to fix the language you used.” Ron squirmed uncomfortably. “The way it works is this: whenever the person whom the spell has been cast upon uses a dirty word, their head will first turn into a toilet. If the language continues, their mouth will become filled with… let’s just say residue.” She let a glimmer of a smirk appear, before wiping her face clear of amusement.
Fred and George’s faces met, frozen in expressions of extreme delight.
“Our own dear mother!” cried Fred, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.
“We never knew!” George clasped at his heart.
“Hold me!” they cried in unison, collapsing onto each other.
Their mother (blushing somewhat) muttered “Well you had to get it from somewhere, you know.”
Ginny was up next. She had a look of fiendish glee upon her face as she concentrated intently on what everyone assumed was her Bat-Bogey hex. After she spoke the incantation, a shot of yellow-green light exploded from the end of her wand and ricocheted around the room briefly (many dodging frantically to avoid it) before settling itself into the envelope.
After a few moments, Charlie cautiously moved his head out from behind the pasta pot. “Ginny,” he started hesitantly, “I think that we’d all like to know: just what the bloody hell was that?!”
“Oh, that?” Ginny asked innocently. “That was nothing special. Just a slightly modified Bat-Bogey hex.”
“Modified how?” Ron asked.
George, looking disappointed, put his raised hand down. The rest of the room did a double-take towards the twins, who were sitting primly in school desks, as Molly put her head in her hands and groaned. Where had they gotten the notebooks from?
Ginny simply smiled mysteriously. “Oh, you’ll see,” she said, shooting a glance at Kingsley, Tonks, Moody, and Lupin. “I’ve no doubt that you’ll see.”
Then Hermione was up. Ron looked particularly eager to see what she had come up with.
She cleared her throat. “As some of you know,” she shot a badly concealed smile towards Ron and Harry, “fire is a particular specialty of mine.”
Ron’s grin grew wider.
“In my reading, I came across a spell known as Hot-Foot. It’s rather simple actually. It simply attaches fire to the Hexed’s foot. Ideally, for any viewers, he or she will then begin to hop about.” A manic grin lit her face. “Hopefully screaming.”
“Brilliant!” Ron exclaimed (Fred and George were scribbling furiously).
And then, finally, it was Harry’s turn.
“I didn’t really have a fantastic idea,” he warned them. “I just sort of thought ‘Well, what is Umbridge afraid of?’ and all of you know that, now at least, the answer is centaurs. So, what I came up with, with a little bit of quick help from Fred and George,” he indicated them with a wave of his hand, and they leapt from their seats, bowing theatrically, “is a sort of tracking… thing.”
Harry began to fidget, uncomfortable with the attention being focused on him. “What I’m hoping is that it will attach itself to Umbridge, and in all the confusion, she’ll just think it’s some sort of bug bite.”
Harry concentrated and sent his spell into the envelope with the others.
Moody, Kingsley, Tonks and Lupin, as the resident Defense experts, contributed a simple surveillance spell to allow them to see the havoc they’d wreaked on Umbridge. Hagrid decided that Grawp’s part in the original plan would work (“Grawpy did his part fer the fam’ly.”). Arthur would take care of explaining away the curse envelope at the Ministry.
Owls streaked off into the night. Hedwig, Errol, Pig, and several school owls that Trelawney had—ahem—borrowed struggled with the weight of the envelope between them.
And that was that. A chime would ring when she received the envelope.
They didn’t have long to wait. They had scarcely sat down on the sofa before a chime that sounded distinctly like a doorbell rang, and something that look almost like a “fellytisson” screen appeared before them, to Arthur’s delight.
Umbridge’s delighted face appeared on the screen.
“Thought they’d trap me, did they? Knew they’d never pull it off. As though Cornelius would actually allow one of his most loyal employees to go missing,” she muttered, as she struggled to open the envelope.
They knew they’d had success when bats exploded from Umbridge’s nose. But they didn’t just fly from her nose. Oh no, they dribbled down her face as well. They winced as she sneezed rather violently. So that was how Ginny had modified her hex.
Then Umbridge’s face began to turn purple. They leaned forward in their seats, watching with great anticipation. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. A belch exploded from her and slugs oozed from her mouth. At nearly the same time, what was unmistakably the sound of someone breaking wind burst from her behind, letting loose a torrent of sand.
Umbridge began to hop about. Clearly, the Hot-Foot was setting in. “Harry Potter is our only hope. All hail the Boy-Who-Lived! Potter for Minister! He’d do a better job than the idiots who are running now,” Umbridge said, looking horrified at the slander she was spreading about her beloved government.
Harry looked half-amused, half-embarrassed. Fred and George looked delighted. Who knew the Order could be so much fun?!
A slug slipped from her mouth. “Oh damn it!” With a cheerful pop!, her head transformed into a toilet seat. “That bloody—oh God, that’s disgusting!” Toilet-Umbridge looked desperate to spit. All she managed was for more bats, slugs, and sand to escape.
“The world owes Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived is our savior! Harry Potter looks a surprising treat in dragonhide trousers.”
Harry’s eyes went wide as he looked towards the twins, horrified. Ginny, sitting to Harry’s left, nodded her agreement.
Umbridge looked horrified, and let loose another torrent of swear words. It only made the situation worse for her. Now, in addition to the slugs, they could see an unmistakably brown liquid leaking from her mouth.
A soft clip-clopping was heard, and Toilet-Umbridge whirled to face her greatest horror. A herd of centaurs was facing her, arrows leveled at her.
“We do not harm foals,” said Ronan, with a sadistic gleam in his eye.
“But I think it’s been awhile since anyone would have considered you a foal,” smirked Bane, drawing his arrow taut.
The entire room was in stitches, several with tears running down their faces. Ginny leaned against Harry with a contented smile on her face. Ron rested his head on Hermione’s as she sighed with happiness, the earlier argument all but forgotten. Umbridge’s torture would continue for days. They settled in and continued watching the doom of Dolores Umbridge.