Up to No Good
A/N: So, I don't normally - ever - write crack!fics, but this was for the Quidditch League Daily Prophet competition (R8 & 9). There are many more amazing entries out there with better and more amusing endings, but hopefully someone somewhere gets some enjoyment from this. Word count: 499 words
:)
"Is it me, or does she look unbelievably happy right now?" Ron whispered, pudding sauce dripping down his chin.
Harry followed Ron's gaze towards the staff table. Umbridge was sitting by herself in the center. Upon her face was a wide grin and her beady eyes had a far-away look to them.
"No, mate, you're right. Something is definitely up," Harry replied, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Both boys continued staring in the toad's direction. Their mouths popped open as they watched Hagrid nervously take a seat on Umbridge's other side and, having yet again over-estimated his bodily proportions, as he knocked over her goblet of pumpkin juice onto her lap. Instead of her face turning purple with rage, however, Umbridge simply looked at her now soaked robes and shrugged. Standing up and waving aside Hagrid's hurried apologies and attempts to clean up the mess, she left the Great Hall with a skip in her step.
"Has she been snorting up the Snargaluff powder or something?" Ron asked incredulously.
Harry shook his head and stood rapidly. Snatching the spoon out of Ron's hand as he went to take another bite of pudding, Harry nodded towards the door.
"I dunno, but whatever it is, it's not good. We have to follow her. Now."
Ron scowled, but, sensing the urgency in Harry's voice, allowed himself to be dragged out of the hall.
"Which way did she go?" Ron asked, looking left to right.
"I'm not sure… There!" A wisp of pink material disappearing around the corner alerted the boys to Umbridge's position.
Striding quickly but as quietly as possible, they followed her through the castle. Every now and again, they would pause and listen out for Filch roaming the corridors who, unlike Umbridge, had grown even moodier in the past few days. Finally, Umbridge disappeared through one of the dungeon doors and closed it behind her. Flinging an arm out, Harry stopped Ron from immediately going in.
"Wha-"
"Shh. We can't go in yet; we don't know if she's meeting with the Inquisitorial Squad or something," Harry said, licking his lips nervously as he peered at the door.
With a look of determination in his eyes, however, Ron strode forward. "No, we have to see what's going on!" he whispered roughly and, without waiting, pushed heavily against the door.
Harry ran in after him. Unfortunately, before he could get all the way in, he collided heavily with Ron's back.
"Ouch!"
Looking up and clutching the back of his head, Harry saw what had stopped Ron. Before them, in a tangle of human limbs and hooves, laid Umbridge and Firenze.
"The stars predicted I would be lucky tonight," Firenze mumbled.
"And unlucky for us," Ron managed to croak before promptly projecting his pudding onto the floor.
Nodding weakly in agreement, Harry grabbed Ron's collar and backed them out of the room. He had been right; Umbridge was up to something. It just happened to be something much, much worse than he had feared.