BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced
Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty‐eight.
Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic
The notices had gone up all over the school, just to make sure all the students and professors were aware of the change in the headmastership. What everyone seemed to know as well was that two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, and the Minister of Magic had not been able to stop Dumbledore from simply leaving. That was the only thing that escaped Harry: How everyone knew what had taken place considering that he hadn't said a word and Mariette Edgecombe was still "recovering" in the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey was having little success in getting the boils to disappear, though she had been able to get them to stop oozing, and a pain relief potion kept the throbbing to a bare minimum.
"Dumbledore will be back before long," said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, clearly fishing for a firsthand account of what had taken place. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me ‐" he dropped his voice conspiratorially, "‐ that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the Gargoyle and she couldn't even blast her way through. It's like the Castle and Head's office has sealed itself against her." Ernie smirked. "She had a right tantrum about it too."
'If only you knew," thought Harry. Rowena had agreed to give Umbridge as difficult a time as possible – doors would stick when she tried to open them, moving staircases would not move, and staircases that were not supposed to would.
"She probably expected to enjoy sitting in Dumbledore's Office," said Ernie as they walked up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall, "stupid, power-crazed ding – "
"Don't finish that sentence Macmillan," Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, his pale face pointed with malice, "Just here to dock a few points from both your houses."
"Only teacher's can dock points Malfoy," snapped Ernie at once, "Not even prefects can!"
"True, but members of the elite, handpicked, Inquisitorial Squad can," he said, pointing towards a tiny silver "I" on his robes beneath his prefect's badge, "Handpicked by Professor Umbridge, we have the power to dock house points." Harry's knuckles crackled as the Slytherin proceeded to remove fifty points from Gryffindor followed by half as many points from Ravenclaw, "New head, new times," he leered, "Be good now."
Laughing heartily, he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle and true to his word, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were no longer neck and neck for first place in the house cup. They were both suddenly fighting for third place, leaving the emerald filled glass of Slytherin full, and with a hefty lead.
"Noticed?" remarked Fred as he and George descended the staircase and joined Harry and the others. Ernie said good bye and hurried off.
"Montague tried to do us during break," said George.
"Who tried what?" asked Ginny.
"Montague tried to dock points because he's a member of the Inquisitorial Squad." Repeated Fred, "But he didn't get all the words out on account of being shoved in to the Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.
"I figure we'd deal with him whenever he reappears," said Fred coolly, "and when he does reappear, we'll make him our product tester number one, if that's ok with you, boss man?"
They all looked at Harry, waiting for his decision as he folded his arms across his chest and studied the pair standing before him, as if he was taking their measure and then spoke, "The title is General, and before I can sanction this as your commanding officer, I need to ask you a few questions. Are we friends?"
"Yeah," said Fred.
"Of course," said George.
Harry nodded, "Do you two trust me?"
"Yeah," said George.
"Of course," said Fred.
"Consider yourselves conscripted, promoted to Captains of Mayhem, and should you chose to accept it, command of Operation Prank Masters Judgment."
The pair snapped to attention and saluted immediately, both wearing idiotic grins as they stood stock still until Harry caught on and returned the salute, "Our orders, General?" No matter how serious the moment and situation, the twins could always be counted on to liven things up with their brand of humor.
"The ministry thinks that Dumbledore was giving me orders to train an army of students. They think we're an army," he said slowly, "Then let's give them a war to fight that they cannot win."
"That man is scary," Fred stage whispered to his brother.
"Give Mad Eye a run for his money," George replied, "Glad we're on his side."
There were a few chuckles "Come on then, General Potter" Fred started, "Can we be in charge of chemical warfare?"
"How about letting us turn the Inquisitorial Squad into our personal firing range?" suggested George.
"Viva Hogwarts! Viva la Revolution!" they chorused.
Instantly, Harry knew the twins had been getting in to muggle movies at least – god only knows from where. "Just one question," said Harry, "How far are you two prepared to go? I mean, you get in trouble and detentions but you have never been suspended or expelled."
"Well…" said George.
"We've been thinking about," said Fred, "and we're done studying. The merchandise is ready to go, and we've got the shop we wanted… we don't really have a reason to stay in Hogwarts."
"Mum," said Ginny quietly, "is going to have a litter of kittens."
"More like the whole bloody farm of baby animals," said Neville just as quietly.
"Very well then, my Captains of Mayhem. Your mission has two objectives: Make acting Headmistress Dolores Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad kill themselves."
"Harry!" Ginny snapped, "You can't ask my brothers to do that!"
"Why not?" asked Harry in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice
"I'll tell Fleur," she replied just as civilly.
Harry rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine. Get Umbridge to quit, and her toad squad to take a year off." He raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded.
"Whipped," sniggered Colin.
"Definitely," agreed Neville.
Harry glared at both of them for a long moment, but then smiled evilly, "I'll just let your respective girlfriends know about your definition of whipped. Perhaps they can have a discussion with both of you." Both boys went slightly pale.
"Won't they have their wands snapped?" Ginny asked.
"They're of age and have already sat their OWLs," Harry answered. "They can be expelled or suspended but they cannot have their wands taken from them."
It began the following day at lunch, when almost a fifth of the Hogwarts students surreptitiously checked their fingers, and decoded the simple message on the ring, drew their wands and quickly cast a personal shield charm. Thanks to Harry's teaching and their own hard work and diligence, they had their shields up in seconds and proceeded as usual.
Harry was just coming down the stairs from a charms class when somebody tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and found himself almost nose‐to‐nose with Filch the caretaker. Harry held his ground despite the fact that Filch was best viewed at a distance – telescope distance. "The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter," he wheezed. "Follow me." Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, "Things are changing around here, Potter."
"I've noticed," said Harry coldly.
"I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all," said Filch, chuckling nastily. "You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty‐nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things… and she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves… oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge!"
Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably third to the combined knowledge of the Prank Master generals.
"Here we are," he said, leering down at Harry as he rapped three times on Professor Umbridge's door and pushed it open, "The Potter boy to see you, Ma'am."
Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of her pink parchment, but she looked up and smiled widely at their entrance. Her office had not changed, except for a new addition to her desk that read "Headmistress."
"Thank you, Argus," she said sweetly.
"Not at all, Ma'am, not at all," said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards.
"Sit," said Umbridge curtly, pointing towards a chair. Harry sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. He watched some of the foul kittens gamboling around the plates over her head, wondering what she was up to as he reinforced his mind shields and gathered a tendril of magic on the fingertips of his left hand, and tensed his right, ready to flick his wand out. "Well, now," she said finally, setting down her quill and surveying him complacently, like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. "What would you like to drink?"
Harry blinked in surprise, sure she had said, "Would you like to die?"
Her smile widened and his mistrust rose in proportion, "Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?" As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk.
"Nothing, thank you," said Harry.
"I wish you to have a drink with me," she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. "Choose one."
" Fine… tea," said Harry, shrugging. He would have a drink, but he never said he would actually drink it.
She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to him. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion. "There," she said, handing it to him. "Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Mr Potter… I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night."
He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, he took the cup, vanished the contents wandlessly with his left hand and pretended to drain it.
"Good," she whispered. "Very good. Now then…" She leaned forwards a little. "Where is Albus Dumbledore?"
"No idea," said Harry calmly.
"Now, Mr. Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Mr. Potter…"
"I have considered my position, and I tell you, I don't know where he is, or care for that matter."
"Very well," she said, though she looked displeased. "In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of the wanted mass murderer Sirius Black."
Harry's stomach turned over but he kept his cool, smiled and then laughed in her face, "You forget about the article in The Quibbler? He's pretty much innocent. That said, I've not heard from him or anything since before the Tri-Wizard tournament ended."
"Very well, Potter, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Hogwarts ‐ except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr. Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence…"
The floor of the office shock, and Umbridge nearly slipped out of her chair as Harry tensed and then relaxed as Rowena quickly filled him on the most recent explosion. He bit his tongue to hold back his laughter as Umbridge leapt to her feet and struggled with the door to her office. She tugged and it came open, colliding with her face with an almighty crack. Blood trickled from her nose as she hurried out.
"Back to lunch you go, Potter!" cried Umbridge, raising her wand and dashing out of the office. Harry gave her a few seconds and then sauntered out, calm, cool and collected.
The only word to describe the scene would be pandemonium. It seemed that a gigantic crate of enchanted fireworks had gone off, and dragons of gold sparks breathed carpets of red sparks. Catherine wheels five feet in diameter whizzed lethally through the air as flying saucers, rockets and sparklers wrote swear words, limericks and even poetry slandering the new headmistress.
"Impressive friends you have Harry," said Rowena, "I don't think they'd mind if I gave them a little help?"
"By all means," he replied. The fireworks that were beginning to fizzle had suddenly, and perhaps terrifyingly, gained a second wind, energy and momentum as a dragon swooped down with a collection of Catherine wheels, seemingly targeting the new headmistress, "might be a touch of over kill there Rowena," thought Harry.
"Party pooper" she laughed, "Spoil all my fun why don't you?" she mock sulked as another Catherine Wheel screeched towards Umbridge and Filch who both dropped to the floor as it soared out the window and across the grounds.
Anyone who saw the unfolding tableau would have sworn that the fireworks were alive as a number of them made their way through the open door at the end of the hall, rising and spreading through the castle like the most virulent of plagues.
He tapped his ring and sent a quick message to the twins, congratulating the duo who were no doubt watching and laughing from somewhere close by. 'Going to put Dr. Filibuster out of business when they open.' he thought.
The fireworks continued to burn and spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers did not seem to mind them very much. "Dear, dear," said Professor McGonagall sardonically as one of the dragons soared in to her classroom emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"
Headmistress Umbridge spent her day putting out fireworks all over the school, and Harry was amused as heck as he made his way to the front doors, to see a soot-blackened, sweating Umbridge tottering on the verge of collapse. When he told Fleur, she had insisted that he show her and she had found it hilarious." These are the times I wish I was still a student… carefree and innocent."
Harry snorted, "Given what you get up to, Ms. Delacour, I have doubts about how innocent you ever were."
She grinned at him, "Considering you like that uniform of mine…" she said saucily.
"After dinner love," he said quietly, "I'd rather not keep Dobby waiting."
Harry was a complete stranger to the subject of pregnancy and pregnant women in general, but he had heard his fair share of horror stories about morning sickness, the random inexplicable food cravings, the swollen ankles, the nausea, but Fleur seemed to be suffering from none of those complaints. His hesitant question had been with laughter and a smile, "Magic, can do wonderful things to make most of those problems go away."
"Most?" he asked carefully, mindful that while she didn't have her wand, she still had the magic of her kind that would let her hurl fire without one. The last thing he wanted to do was set her off.
"Well, the food cravings… Dobby tends to take care of that quite well," she said, "The only problem would be when I'm farther along and she starts using my bladder as a punching bag. I'm in for some very sleepless nights in a few months' time." She was just over the first trimester of her pregnancy and it was just beginning to show, very slightly. Fortunately, no one had said anything about "extra weight." But to Harry, she was as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more beautiful as he curled up next to her, laying one hand carefully across her stomach. She snuggled up against him and his mind wandered over the day's events. He smirked, wondering just how Umbridge was feeling and how Fudge had taken the news of the chaos at Hogwarts that had made lessons impossible for the day. Smiling to himself, Harry closed his eyes…
He began to dream, something about brooms and a Quidditch match with bludgers chasing him. Then suddenly he was falling through blackness, only to land feather light on his feet. He was back in to the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. He didn't walk, so much as float or fly the length of the corridor towards the same black door. Realizing he was about to crash in to it, he gestured sharply with his right hand. The curse struck the door and melted it away, putting him in the middle of a circular room lined with doors.
He knew. He didn't know how, but he just knew that the door identical to the one he had just come through lead to the Hall of Prophecies. His hand caressed the handle and the door faded away and he was suddenly filled in a rectangular room full of an odd mechanical clicking, and what sounded like the chimes of crystals. Dancing flecks of light played across the walls but he pushed forward, guided by instinct that he somehow knew were not his own.
There was a door at the far end… it, too, opened at his touch… And now he was in a dimly lit room as high and wide as a church, full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun‐glass sphere. This was it. for the first time in months, he had accessed the Hall of Prophecy. The wall to his left had a parchment hanging from it. He scanned it curiously for a moment, reading it and then set off at run. His footsteps made no noise in the enormous, deserted room… Another part of his mind registered the sudden pop. He felt the magic in the room, where he was sleeping!
He was instantly awake, confused, angry and beyond aggravated at the interruption. His wand was raised and pointed towards a startled Fleur and Winky, who was levitating a tray and entire tea set that Fleur must have dropped in surprise. "Merde Harry! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "Craving?"
"Tea, chocolate cookies with cornichon."
"Pickled cucumbers," said the house elf, "Winky apologizes for waking master."
Suddenly realizing he was still holding his wand outstretched, he lowered it with a shrug and sheepish smile, "No apologies necessary Winky," he gestured to her levitation act, "Nice save by the way." The house elf blushed as she restored the tea set to its proper arrangement on a convenient side table.
Needing less sleep than the rest of the wizarding population due to his Occulumency, Harry glanced at his watch and confirmed that he had actually slept a few extra hours. It was starting to really get on his nerves that he could not get a regular sleep pattern established because of the dreams and flashes of pain from his damn scar that woke him quite regularly. Getting used to being sleep deprived was not the way to go about it, but then, he didn't have much choice in the matter.
Fleur was taking it easier on the exercise front, but while her pace slowed the routine had not, and she was only a few laps behind Harry in the pool, who was treading water in a lazy fashion waiting for her to catch up so that they could have breakfast together before they went their separate ways. For the couple, it was just the start of another typical week day.
Making his way up from the Residence Floo, he was halfway across the Entrance Hall when he felt the ring on his finger warm. Checking the message he sent a response back and changed his direction. He reached for the small hip flask and took a pull of still warm coffee as Cho Chang caught up with him in one of the alcoves just off the Great Hall, "Cho." She looked, worried, "Are you OK? Umbridge or the Inquisitorial Squad coming after you?"
"No," she was clearly hesitant about bringing up whatever it was and Harry sloshed his flask. He needed to refill it, and somehow figure out if there was a way to expand its volume. It barely held two cups of coffee at the moment, and he'd already had half a cup. He offered it to Cho, "You look like you could use a caffeine fix. What's up?"
She took the proffered flask, sniffed it and took a sip, grimacing at the taste, "No, it was only… well, I just wanted to say… Harry, I never dreamed Marietta would…" she hesitated and handed the flash back.
That's what this was about. "I don't hold you responsible," he said, "She not only betrayed you, but she betrayed the Legion, all of us damn near got suspended, expelled or perhaps even worse!"
It was practically no consolation that the boils still had not disappeared, despite the matron's best efforts, and not even a glamour charm or any other cosmetics charm could do anything to hide the ugly boils. "She's a lovely person…. And she made a mistake," she rushed, "But she's scared, terrified even. Of you."
"Me?" Harry looked her incredulously, "I'm not the one she should be worried about. She should be worried about the seventeen people who were caught that night, and the rest of the Legion coming after her. I should be the least of her worries."
"You are the leader Harry," said Cho, "There are a lot of people who look up to you, for leadership, hold you up as a role model. It's been a few days, and while she's been hiding out in the hospital wing, everyone knows that you could get her if you wanted to. You haven't, and that scares her."
"She made a choice," said Harry quietly, "and every choice has consequences. It's as simple as that."
"How could you?" she asked, "Be so callous? So cold? What you've done to her will scar her for life! Do you understand how much pain she is in? How much she is going to suffer?" Harry frowned, and took a breath, trying to keep his cool, "She's scared you'll turn everyone against her, and make her an outcast."
Harry shook his head, "If she has friends like you, she will never be an outcast. She's suffering, but she deserves it."
"You don't get it do you?" she asked quietly, "Every student has known about Legion for months! You don't even understand how much they respect you."
"Respect does not change what she did!" he cut her off, "The boils, will heal when they heal. I'm not going to compromise on this Cho." He took another sip from his flash, "take what you got, and go, before I change my mind."
It was a desperation tactic and she knew it, just as well as he did, "And if I want out of the Legion?"
"You surrender the ring, and you can walk away. The contract you signed still holds so unless you want to wind up like her, I suggest you keep your mouth shut!"
Without another word he capped the flask and turned, walking towards the Great Hall. He would have enough time to get a refill and maybe a slice of toast. Granted that it was the first day of the Easter holidays, there were few people in the Great Hall this early in the day but his friends were gathered, and not exactly dressed for the weather. That made it clear to him at least that they had been working out.
Harry had of course made the appropriate Floo calls to arrange things with the respective parents. Most of the students in the first three years were gone for the holidays. Only the older students had stayed, especially those in their fifth and seventh years, to start seriously revising for the OWLs and NEWTs respectively. However, the Legion's core members bordered on overconfident in the face of their exams - except for the twins who were most likely not going to be in school to sit their exams when the time came.
The twins joked about every house's chance of winning the house cup; especially since the Inquisitorial squad had cheerfully taken hundreds of points, leaving every house in the double digits while Slytherin had a lead of almost three hundreds points. "Quidditch won't make up the difference - the way Ron plays keeper and some of the others..."
"It's a joke," said Ginny, "Even if I was playing and managed to catch the Snitch in record time…. It's not going to make a difference."
"It does," said Harry, "Better it ends quickly than drag it out and let the score rack up. Take any victory, anywhere you can get one."
"Hard to," she replied darkly, "Last practice I saw, Jack Sloper nearly got his head taken off by his own beater bat. I took him to the hospital wing to have his head looked at. Waste of time if your ask me," said Ginny, "I could have told Madame Pomfrey it was undamaged - given that it's empty."
"So Harry, thought you'd be spending your holiday in the lap of luxury -" began Neville.
"Quite possibly with Fleur in your lap," interjected Fred with an impish grin.
"Shaddup before I ruin a perfectly good Easter egg by throwing it at you," said Harry. As Errol, the owl of the Weasley family fluttered down, followed by several more that descended upon their table. Harry laughed as the owls delivered permission notices to the Weasely children and Neville, along with Easter eggs, "Hey, my ammunition has arrived."
There was an immediate scramble as everyone protected their Easter Eggs. Luna was the first to cradle hers like a baby chicken in her arms, before crooning "My precious." The expression of vapid innocence, wide staring puppy dogs had them all laughing until Neville cleared his throat sharply.
Followed by a certain throat-clearing cough, the sound of which grated on Harry's nerves, "Holidays," he said without turning around, "Nothing to say to you."
"But I have plenty to say to you Mr. Potter, regarding the protectorates of House Potter," she replied sweetly, "as well as anyone else staying at Hogwarts over the Easter Holidays -"
He ignored her, "Check your mail," suggested Harry. Moments later, there were subtle smiles all around the table, ones that Umbridge missed, given that she was far too busy attempting to glare holes in to the back of Harry's head.
"We're not staying," said Harry, "In fact, we're just leaving for the holidays."
"You may come and go as you please," said Umbridge, "And as their guardian, Ms. Lovegood and Mr. Creevy can leave with you but none of the others…"
Harry shoved two rolls of parchment under Umbridge's nose, "Signed permission slips from Mrs. Longbottom and Mr. and Mrs. Weasely. They are spending the holiday revising with me unless you have problem with parental authority?" challenged Harry.
An infuriated Umbridge had no choice but to let them leave and they were gone before lunch. It was only after they arrived there did Fred and George burst out laughing.
"What did you two do," Neville asked, "To Umbridge."
Professor Umbridge was about to have a very emotionally trying "holiday." "Do you want us to start with what we planted in her office" began George.
"Or in her classroom?" continued Fred
"Or all over the castle" they chorused in conclusion.
"She's not going to get hurt is she?" asked Ginny, "I mean she's already…. unstable…"
"Probably turn out a bit like the Inquisitorial twit we shoved in to the broken vanishing cabinet," said Fred with a shrug, "Heard Draco had to get Snape to extricate him, from a U-bend in Moaning Mrytle's toilet and he didn't know who he was, where he had been or what had happened. Still doesnt' have a clue and they rescued him a couple of days before the break."
As it was the first day of their holidays, none of them really felt like doing any studying, and would pass the day doing nothing more strenuous than unpacking and lounging around the indoor pool of the manor, laughing while Blake and Moony manned the barbecue, leaving Dobby and Winky to serve drinks. Griphook and Marinashka, while unwilling to take a dip in the pool, were happy to just be a part of the event – something that Griphook hoped would become a regular event – especially since Harry seemed to own a particularly impressive whiskey and wine cellar that he had no compunctions about sharing.
It was halfway through the party when Harry literally collapsed into the chair opposite the goblin couple, "Blaghrast Diedom, my friends," he said politely topping up Griphook's glass with a triple measure of Chivas Regal 50 year old Royal Salute. A few moments later, Blake deposited a Mojito next to Marinashka. There was a privacy ward over their poolside table, as Harry got right down to business, "What's the word?"
"A large number of the minority stakeholders are willing to sell," said Marinashka without preamble.
"Given that you are offering between three and five times what their shares are worth, I am not surprised," said Griphook, "I am curious with what you intend to do with another newspaper."
Harry shrugged, "Luna has the Quibbler and its growing."
"Readership up approximately 17%, subscriptions up another 13% this past month," confirmed the Goblin banker, "Market penetration is a respectable 63%, compared to the 50% of this time last year, though it could be better if Luna would… make the Quibbler a truly serious publication."
"I want Luna to have the Quibbler, to do whatever the heck she wants with it. I'm hoping one day, she'll be able to print stories about Snorkacks and Fudge baking Goblin pies," he winked, "to her heart's content. That's why I want the other paper: Make it serious, make it respectable. Not a propaganda mouth piece. How much do I currently hold?
"At present, just over fourteen percent, but by the end of the Easter Holidays, when all transactions are approved, you will hold forty-two percent of the company's stock. Enough to give you significant influence, but not the power to make the changes you are aiming for," said Griphook as he savored a sip of his whiskey and glanced at the parchment in front of him, "Of the remaining 58%, the ministry holds fifteen percent, Fudge himself holds a further 13%, and the rest is divided amongst a number of pureblood families with ties to Voldemort, who are unlikely to sell, for obvious reasons."
Harry pondered the situation and then struck upon a truly devious idea, "These pureblood families, what families own what percentages?"
In anticipation of the question, Marinashka pushed a piece of parchment towards Harry. It was short, only a dozen or so families controlling the remaining thirty percent. "Griphook, you once told me that the Goblins fought against Voldemort in the First War?" the Goblin nodded, wondering where this particular line of questioning was going. "So, the Goblins would have gone to war, with certain wizarding families, such as the Lestranges, Rockwoods and so on?" Griphook nodded again.
He turned to Marinashka, "I am sure that there are wizarding laws that grant wronged party damages and compensation, and those should be compounded by about fifteen years of interest?" Both Goblins looked stunned for a long moment, and the broke in to full smiles, bearing their fang like teeth, "Let's see if we can work this so that everyone benefits."
The numbers worked out in Harry's favor: Twenty percent of the stakeholders were with the families of confirmed death eaters who had either stayed loyal, or betrayed their fellow death eaters to escape imprisonment. He could get the 9% he needed to secure a 51% margin, "When I get my nine percent, The Goblin Nation and Gringotts are welcome to have the other eleven percent, in perpetuity. A gift between friends, one that I hope will grace the vaults of the Goblin Nation with gold for many decades." He said as he raised his glass of pumpkin juice. Both Goblins were more than happy to raise their own glasses, drain them and then order another round of drinks.
"Doing business with you Harry," said Griphook, "is always a pleasure that words do not do justice to."
Harry gazed thoughtfully in to his glass for a few minutes, "Not all business is as amicable as this. There is another matter I want to discuss: Cornelius Oswald Fudge: Death Eater, under the Imperious curse, or just an idiot?"
Harry made it a point to host two dinners during the holidays with the usual security precautions in place that allowed all of the guests to arrive and leave via Floo. Although having OWL exams lurking just over the horizon meant they spent most of their holiday revising, they were delighted to find that didn't need to do too much. "That's what you get for teaching," remarked Neville, "The ability to snore your way through the year end exams or OWLs."
Needless to say, the Inquisitorial Squad and Headmistress Umbridge did not have a good holiday. For them, it would seem as if the castle itself was out to get them - she was but only up to a point - as the twins numerous and varied "surprises" detonated at all hours, due to an undetectable delivery system: Dobby and Winky employed without Harry's official knowledge of course. "Plausible Deniability" was a phrase that the twins were very familiar with.
Dung Bombs were detonating all over the castle - but particularly in Umbridge's classroom and office, and also in the Slytherin common room and Dormitories. The food was spiked - nothing more dangerous than Canary Creams or Antler Apples, and the targets were all Slytherin students given that there was no way to target just the Inquisitorial Squad. Not that Fred or George gave a damn about collateral damage.
On the subject of collateral damage, Head of House Severus Snape had nearly obliterated himself when the labels on his potions ingredients had somehow been completed changed. Re-labeling, reorganizing and resorting over a hundred jars, containers and flasks of potions ingredients was not how the Potions Master had planned to spend his Easter break without brain dead dunderheads blowing up cauldrons. He had hoped to actually do some research in to a potion that would alleviate the effects of the Cruciatus Curse but now…
The twins kept a list of the pranks that they executed over the course of the holidays and found that the parchment list was a good eighteen inches in length. Given the somewhat critical time of the year, they had abstained from carrying out a prank in the library, so that everyone studying could do so in peace. That of course did not prevent the twins from adding a little potion of their own to the pumpkin juice. It was harmless – except that it caused a person's urine to turn blood red. Madame Pomfrey had to hand out a lot of calming draught that particular afternoon to stressed students of all four houses.
Randomly sticking doors and randomly moving staircases were the least of Rowena's contributions to the "war" against Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad: Every portrait in the castle suddenly had an eye twinkle eerily reminiscent of Dumbledore and their gaze tracked Umbridge and her cohorts wherever they went in the Castle. Suits of armor would randomly burst in to songs, with lyrics that were as original as they were insulting, so much so that Peeves was trying to memorize them. Rowena had made all of her works charms based. A simple finite incantatem would suffice – if you could overpower the existing charm. Rowena had more than enough magic at her disposal to make overcoming her charms an endurance exercise. Suffice to say, despite the Hogwarts Inquisition doings its best to tighten its grip upon the castle and its inhabitants, they were being frustrated at every turn, which left the Inquisitorial Squad with little time to revise.
Suffice to say that most of the Legion members returned to Hogwarts, rested and confident about their upcoming exams – at least the practical portion, which accounted for most of the grade anyway.