Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

Monday at the Ministry

Breakfast was an unusually quiet affair – much earlier than usual, so Bill and Fleur had yet to floo in.

Molly continually shot worried glances at Ron and Hermione; and jumped up from her seat often to offer them more eggs, or straighten Ron's hair, or smooth down the shoulder of Hermione's crisp white shirt.

"Mum, please," Ron finally cracked, "it's going to be OK."

"Oh, I hope so, dear. Are you sure you don't want Dad and me along too?" She fussed with his collar absently.

"No, really. It's OK. We'll be fine. Harry and Ginny will be there, so will Percy. We'll be fine, won't we Hermione?"

Hermione just nodded, not looking particularly convinced, and dropped her toast back onto her plate.

"Maybe you should wait until the last minute and then go in," George offered, white-lipped, "after the stunt they pulled on Harry that time, when he was called in about the Dementor attack."

"Percy has that covered," Ginny walked in with Harry and they both took seats together. "Morning everyone. Where's Bill and Charlie?"

"Bill will be along any moment, I'm sure," Molly told her daughter as she placed two full breakfasts in front of her and Harry. "Charlie is still asleep, I'm guessing. It seems to be a little early for him."

"Hm." Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to change her mind abruptly. "Mum, come out into the garden with me."

"Hey, George," said Harry, attacking his breakfast with almost as much enthusiasm as Ron usually did, "do you want to come today? You can if you like, you're more than welcome."

"Would you mind?" George looked surprised.

"'Course not," Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise, would I?"

"OK then, is that OK with you?" George glanced at Ron and Hermione, who both nodded and looked pleased.

"You can hold our hands while we're vomiting," Hermione muttered.

"I'll hold your hand," Ron told her seriously, "because I'm not about to be sick. George here can keep your hair out of the way."

"Now that's what I call teamwork!" Arthur boomed as he came in from outside, closely followed by Molly and Ginny. "Well done, children!"

"Arthur!" Molly chided him, hiding a smirk behind her hand.

"Yes dear?" He blinked at her innocently.

"Oh, never mind, sit down and eat your breakfast."

"Yes dear."

*

"We've plenty of time," Percy told the small group with an air of importance, "I've checked and double checked – and then checked again. We're still in Courtroom 16," Percy's brows drew together as he led them to the lifts, "it's our largest courtroom, so I think we should expect the entire Wizengamot to be present."

"All of them?" Hermione squeaked, grabbing both Ron and George's hands.

"Indeed." They entered a left and Percy turned to face her, smiling kindly. "Don't worry, I've at least managed to keep the press out."

"The press?" Harry and Ginny looked horrified.

"I know." Percy shook his head, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"Do us a favour, Perce," Ron muttered close to his ear, "keep an eye out for a fat carpet beetle with funny lines around its eyes. Its Rita Skeeter.

"I beg your pardon?" Percy looked shocked.

George and Ginny looked confused.

Harry and Hermione looked shamefaced.

Ron just shrugged. "Sorry Perce ... Hermione figured it out years ago – how did you think Skeeter was getting all of those scoops for the Tri-Wizard?"

"You should have reported her," Percy frowned. "Why didn't you?"

"That was me," Hermione admitted in a tiny voice, "I blackmailed her into not publishing anything about Harry, with the threat of exposure and Azkaban. It was ... useful, later on."

Percy looked at her and smiled faintly. "I always knew you were clever," he sounded impressed. "Well, far be it for me to interfere. I did wonder what made her drop from view. That's interesting ... very interesting. You know, of course, that she's started working for The Prophet again, in the last month."

Harry and Ginny nodded, while Ron, Hermione and George shook their heads.

They left the lift and started down a long corridor.

"Oh yes, indeed she has. Nothing about Harry though. You haven't been taking The Prophet?" Percy addressed Hermione directly.

"No. I did for a week or two, but I never took it back up after we returned from Australia. Should I have been?"

"Not particularly. Its' still the same clap-trap as always ... however; weekly, Skeeter comes along with various articles about the Ministry which are always surprisingly close to the truth. Often about court hearings."

"Oh, really?"

"The Death Eater trials are closed courtroom, naturally, far too many things of a sensitive nature are put out into the open, names and such – Death Eater's plea-bargaining for lesser sentences in return for information."

"No surprises there," Ron muttered to no one in particular, although everyone nodded in agreement.

"You can understand how much of a problem it creates when Skeeter 'speculates' about the trials - and comes surprisingly close to the truth. Oh, she doesn't use names – she protects herself very well indeed, but she drops enough hints and employs sufficient innuendo to cause us immense difficulties! Just last week Janus Selwyn – you know of his older brother, Josef, he was a Death Eater, he's in Azkaban already – fled. We had been given information which could have lead to his arrest ... but this ... this is interesting."

"Selwyn, you say?" Hermione exchanged significant looks with Ron and Harry. "Percy. We could quite possibly use this to our advantage."

Percy nodded, looking highly satisfied with himself. "I said just yesterday that I would never want to make an enemy of you."

"Oh, you have no idea, Percy," Hermione smiled slowly, "absolutely no idea. Is there somewhere we can all talk, privately?"

*

So this is the Wizengamot, then.

Ron looked around and up. The courtroom reminded him of Luna's house – not in any way as mad and cheerful, but it had the same basic shape and vaguely claustrophobic feel.

All those silly old farts staring at us like we're ... I don't know ... zoo exhibits or something. Most of them look like they're only here out of curiosity.

Ron twisted around to look behind him. Harry, Ginny and George waved down at him, and he suddenly felt immensely better. No matter what he had said to Hermione, or anyone else for that matter, he HAD been nervous ... almost to the point of panic. He'd just learned to conceal it better lately.

Interesting. They wave at me and half of the old berks start whispering. I wonder what they make of all this? The Boy Who Lived coming to our hearing. It's no secret we were with him last year, everybody knows it.

"Ron," Hermione's whisper interrupted his thoughts, "it's going to be OK, isn't it?"

"Yes, Hermione," he squeezed her hand gently, "it's going to be OK." She still looked distinctly green. "Did I tell you how bloody good you look in that shirt?" He leered at her comically, not really giving a damn about their audience. "All starched up, Miss Prim and Proper ... maybe after all this is done I can take you back to the river, hmm?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, but she was smiling all the same, "not here! You can't talk like that here!"

"Made you smile, didn't it?" Ron pointed out, shooting her a cheeky grin and a lascivious wink.

"You're incorrigible," she giggled.

"I don't even know what that means," he pointed out reasonably, "so I'm not sorry for it."

"Don't be," she muttered, "it's what makes you YOU."

There was a sudden shuffling about and murmur of voices.

Percy's voice rang out across the room. "All stand for the Chief of the Wizengamot, Dolores Jane Umbridge."

Everyone stood. Ron was tempted to stay right where he was; but Hermione dug her nails into his palm, so he thought it best to do what he was told.

Percy spoke again. "Remain standing for the Acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt."

There she is. The ugly old toad. Someone should tell her that stupid bloody bow on her head looks ridiculous.

Kingsley and Umbridge took their seats at the very front, which prompted everyone else to do so.

Umbridge payed no mind to anyone around her, aside from a small woman one row behind her. She snapped her fingers at the woman and held out her hand. The woman nervously shuffled through a stack of parchment and then handed a thick sheaf of it to Umbridge, who snatched it without a word.

"Disciplinary hearing of the eighth of June 1998," said Umbridge in a clear voice, "in regard to offences committed under the Muggleborn Registration Act and Educational Decree Number 33 by Mr Ronald Bilius Weasley and Miss Hermione Jean Granger, both currently residing at The Burrow on Damson Lane, Ottery Saint Catchpole."

She smiled down at them. "Interrogators: Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Ministry. Kingsley Julius Shacklebolt, Acting Minister of Magic. Court Scribe: Percy Ignatius Weasley."

*

"It's still all friends in together, I see," Umbridge remarked with a titter.

Hermione and Ron stared at her impassively.

She's still wearing it! The fake locket! Hermione felt a stab of rage at the odious woman.

"Defendants are not permitted contact with each other while on trial," Umbridge stated in a sweet voice, "please release hands, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger."

Hermione started to loosen her hold on Ron's hand, knowing perfectly well that this was true, but Ron wouldn't let go. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. His chin was jutting out stubbornly as he looked unblinkingly up at Umbridge with what could only be described as an insolent stare. He's magnificent! His ears were also a very telling shade of red. He's magnificent and very, very cross. Oh Merlin. This isn't going to end well. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound ...

Hermione directed her attention back to the proceedings.

"The Wizengamot will recognise the hostility of Mr Weasley and Miss Granger," Umbridge said clearly.

"You can go shove it up your arse."

There was a collective gasp from all around them, and beside her Ron was laughing loudly.

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Umbridge bellowed in outrage. "WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?"

"Are you deaf?"

Hermione found herself standing up. Oh shit, what am I doing? "I said you can go shove it up your arse. Why don't you stop posturing for everyone and get on with it?"

"Hermione." Ron tugged at her hand to get her attention – she was surprised to find him standing right beside her, "you better explain what posturing means for all the not-genius's."

"It means showing off, Ron." Hermione smiled up at him.

"I already knew that," Ron smiled right back, "I just didn't know if everyone else did."

Under the cover of the general outcry, Ron leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Look at her collar. Is that what I think it is?"

Hermione squinted a bit and then nodded. "Well spotted. I was too busy with the fake locket."

"Behave yourself then, Hermione; let's see if we can give her enough rope to hang herself. We might as well sit down and get comfortable."

Who thought I'd live to see the day when Ron was telling ME to behave myself. Surely not I.

Settling comfortably in her seat, she watched Ron stare directly at Percy and finger his own collar.

Percy's eyes widened and he too looked at Umbridge, his jaw tightening. Then he leaned over and said something to Kingsley, who looked entirely too amused by the current proceedings. Kingsley nodded and muttered something in return before standing tall and facing the Wizengamot.

"Order, please. We'll have order!" Kingsley boomed and held his hands aloft. "You will calm yourself, Dolores. Surely you've dealt with this attitude before. I expect you to conduct yourself in a way becoming to your position and to the Ministry of Magic."

The room fell silent.

"Thank you." Kingsley took his seat, smiling blandly at Umbridge as she gaped at him. "Do you need a moment, Dolores?"

"No. Thank you, Acting Minister."

Hermione had to give Umbridge her due – she certainly recovered quickly.

"Miss Granger. Could you account for your wear-abouts from the first of August of 1997 until the second May of 1998?"

"Of course." Hermione smiled politely. "I was with Harry Potter, on the run from the Ministry of Magic."

"On the run from the Ministry of Magic," Umbridge repeated significantly with a broad smile. "Why ever would you think you'd need to do such a thing, dear?"

"Well, really," said Hermione cheerfully, "it seemed the thing to do – I wasn't originally planning to be on the run, you see, but after the Ministry fell and was taken over by Voldemort ... and Harry was deemed Undesirable Number One ... I decided it was prudent to my personal safety. Particularly after the advent of the Muggle Born Registration Commission. I think I was proved correct. I certainly didn't want my wand snapped in two."

Umbridge's' eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. She seemed to be struggling with herself ... and Hermione had to admit that she again mastered herself well.

What a nasty piece of work you are. You didn't even flinch.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Mr Weasley?"

"Yes?" Hermione watched him blink up at Umbridge. The insolent look was back.

"Can you account for your actions during the said time?" Umbridge smiled down at Ron.

"Yes." He nodded.

"Then you will please do so." Umbridge snapped.

Ron tilted his head to one side, and raised an eyebrow. "Where do you think I was?"

"Ministry inspectors confirmed your absence from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry due to spattergroit. However," Umbridge paused, shuffling through her stack of parchment, "you were sighted at the residence of Mr Xenophilius Lovegood on the twenty-sixth day of February this year."

"I never had spattergroit," Ron shrugged and leaned further back on his chair – a prefect study of disinterest. "I don't know where the Ministry got its information. Maybe they confused me with our family ghoul?"

"Your family ghoul?" Umbridge couldn't hide her surprise.

"Yeah," Ron studied his nails, "I charmed him to look like he had spattergroit and then gave him an old pair of my pyjamas. He wasn't complaining – he got to sleep in my room. A nice change from the attic, don't you think?"

"And your reason for this subterfuge?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time. I think I was right, don't you? Death Eaters crashed my brother's wedding when Voldemort took over the Ministry and gave everyone a hard time ... well, that's what I was told anyway, I was with Harry and Hermione."

While Ron had been speaking, Hermione took the opportunity to study the general Wizengamot. She was quite happy with what she saw. Everyone looked interested, yes – but when various members caught her eye they smiled in a very encouraging way.

That's got to be a good sign.

"You speak quite often of when Voldemort took over the Ministry," Umbridge said in a simpering voice. OLD HAG! "But I assure you that you personally, Mr Weasley, were in no danger."

"Oh, I know that." Ron laughed and it sounded brittle to Hermione. Oh dear, there go his ears again. "I'm a pure blood. I could have easily fallen back on that useful piece of information." He leaned forward, he elbows on his knees. "I didn't want too, though. I'm happy to be considered a blood traitor – and I'm proud that Hermione and I helped finish Voldemort off. Not all of us switch sides whenever it's most convenient to ourselves, you know."

"That's very admirable, I'm sure," Umbridge tittered, "but it isn't the point, is it? Both you and Miss Granger broke Ministry laws. Your motives may have been noble, but the fact remains to be seen that your actions were illegal. Miss Granger, as a muggle born, did not present herself for registration and you, Mr Weasley, deliberately mislead Ministry officials. Furthermore, you were both absent from your seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when attendance was compulsory."

"True, true," said Ron and turned to Hermione. "She has a good point."

"If you say so, Ron." Hermione smiled at him.

"Good job the press isn't here, isn't it?" Ron laughed, taking her hand again.

"I completely agree," Hermione's eyes widened, "can you imagine the headlines?"

"Dead embarrassing for Harry, really," said Ron, turning around and giving Harry an apologetic shrug.

"Don't worry about it," Harry called down to them, "it's illegal to leak anything out of a closed courtroom to the press, Wizarding law mate."

"Oh, well, that's not so bad." Ron turned back to Hermione. "We did break a couple of laws."

"They were ludicrous laws though," Hermione pointed out reasonably, "I mean, really. Thickness was under the Imperius curse."

"He was too," Ron agreed. "You know when Crouch was under the Imperius and Percy did as he was ordered, there was an enquiry."

"There was too." Hermione looked sympathetically over at Percy. "You were in quite a bit of trouble over that, isn't that right, Percy?"

"I most certainly was," Percy gave one of his sanctimonious little nods, his lips twitching upward, "and rightly so. Some of his orders really were quite ludicrous."

"Not as ludicrous as the Muggleborn Registration Commission though, I'd guess," Ron suggested.

"No. Not as ludicrous as that," Percy agreed, "even I balked at that one."

"I wonder if there will be an enquiry." Hermione fixed her gaze on Umbridge, who had steadily been turning a rather pleasing shade of grey.

"There really should be," Percy put in, "it's only fair. Don't you agree, Kingsley?"

Kingsley chuckled. "I couldn't agree more, Percy. What do you think, Dolores? You were the inquisitor at Percy Weasley's enquiry, isn't that right?"

Umbridge opened her mouth and shut it again, nodding mutely.

"That's a lovely brooch you're wearing, Dolores," Hermione interrupted suddenly. "You don't mind if I call you Dolores, do you?"

Umbridge gaped at her in shock.

"Do you wear it often?" Hermione pressed on. "I'd love to have one like it, it's so pretty."

"It's a family heirloom, dear," Umbridge muttered vaguely, "I doubt you'll find another like it."

"What a pity," Hermione smiled, "it's quite distinctive."

"Yes. Made for my mother," Umbridge was getting back into her stride again.

"You wear it often, I assume." Hermione asked her sharply.

"I really can't think what business that would be of yours, Miss Granger," Umbridge said, frowning suddenly.

"No, you're probably right." Hermione inclined her head.

"I think that's enough." Kingsley said.

"Enough?" Ron asked, looking disappointed.

Kingsley pointed his wand at Umbridge. "Animagus Revelio."

"This is an interesting turn of events, don't you think Hermione?"

"Yes, I think it is, Ron."

The entire Wizengamot were shocked into silence as they watched Rita Skeeter struggle to extricate herself from Umbridge's' lap.

"Now we know where all the leaks have been coming from," Percy announced loudly with immense satisfaction. "Dear, dear. I think this calls for an enquiry, don't you, Dolores?"

"No Percy." Kingsley shook his head. "This calls for an arrest. Possibly two – but that is entirely dependent on how much Miss Skeeter is prepared to tell us."