Disclaimer: Like the last chapter, this chapter has nothing to do with any actual events. Past or present.

A Cunning Plan

Luna spent most of the next morning preparing to execute the next stage of their cunning plan.

"Look what I found mummy," Luna called out. She was wearing a set of robes that were several sizes too large.

"What did you . . ." It took most of her mother's will power to keep from squealing at how cute Luna looked in her old Ministry Uniform.

"What is it mummy?" Luna asked.

"It's my old uniform," Selene replied.

"Uniform?"

"I worked for a Department in the Ministry before I married your father," she explained, "I wonder if it still fits."

"Try it on mummy," Luna commanded.

"I don't know . . ."

"Pleeeeeease," Luna begged, her large grey eyes enhancing the 'puppy dog eyes' technique till it was just short of the Imperius in power.

"I don't suppose it could hurt," Selene murmured. She took the old robes from Luna and threw them on over her normal clothing. "A bit tight," she admitted ruefully.

"Daddy come look," Luna called out.

"Luna don't," Selene said. She hurriedly tried to take off the uniform, not wanting her husband to see how much her body had changed over the years.

"No mummy," Luna said stubbornly. She grabbed her mother's hands. "Hurry, daddy."

"What is it dar . . ." His eyes bulged when he saw what his wife was wearing. "Luna, be a good girl and go play somewhere else for a few hours."

"Can I go look at the printing press?" Luna asked.

"Of course," he agreed.

"Don't play with it," her mother called after the retreating girl, "it's dangerous."

"Mmmm," her husband agreed as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Seeing you like that reminded me of how we met," he muttered, "I can think of worse witches to be trapped in an office with over the weekend."

"I've gotten fat," she complained. "It just doesn't fit right anymore."

Taking in his wife's lush figure and the way too tight uniform she had on clung to her he leered and replied, "Well then we should get you out of those tight robes as quickly as possible than."

IIIIIIIIII

Fudge glared at the goblin seated across his desk hating the fact that he had to deal with the disgusting creatures.

"Our contract specifically states that the Ministry loan to the Goblin Nation is to be paid back in Gold," Fudge blustered, "I will not accept that."

"You have to," the Branch Manager growled.

"Not according to our agreement," Fudge said smugly.

"What are we supposed to do with this?" The goblin waved a handful of Ministry Scrip. "No one will exchange it for gold and it's too rough to make good toilet paper."

"I wish I could help you," Fudge said with a shrug, "but I have troubles of my own."

"What if I were to give you a solution for your woes?"

"Then I might be willing to use it to prop up your bank again," Fudge said with a smirk, "provided my consulting fees are paid."

"Of course," the goblin agreed.

"What's the plan?" Fudge asked.

"Tax season is coming up," the goblin explained, "simply take off ten percent if they pay early."

"Ten percent is . . ."

"Worth it if it solves our problems," the goblin snorted.

"True," Fudge agreed.

IIIIIIIIII

Fudge's wife walked into Gringotts and straight to the currency exchange counter.

"We're not exchanging for Galleons," the goblin said sourly.

"Wonderful," the woman said with a grin, "I would like to exchange Galleons for Ministry Happy Bucks."

"What?"

"The certificates that they've been handing out," Madame Fudge explained, "I want to buy them."

"How much do you have?"

"One thousand Galleons," she replied.

"Alright," the goblin agreed. It carefully counted out a stack. "Here you are."

"I don't think you understand," she said with a grin, "I don't want to exchange one for one. I want to buy all of them."

"But the face value is . . ."

"Irrelevant," the woman interrupted, "every business I passed on the way here had a sign proclaiming that they would not accept Ministry Scrip and it's too rough to be used as toilet paper, so it is completely worthless."

"You tried using it as toilet paper?" the goblin asked curiously.

"Indeed. The chance to wipe your arse with the minister's face was tempting and almost worth the galleons the paper is listed as being worth."

"True," the goblin admitted, ignoring the scowls and looks of horror on the faces of the script.

Her smile deepened, she had him over a barrel and he knew it. "Do we have a deal or not?

"Deal," the goblin said sourly.

IIIIIIIIII

Luna felt a great sense of satisfaction as she looked down at the neat stack of Ministry Scrip. It was sometimes so useful to have access to a printing press and the knowledge of how to use one. Her original plan had been to dump piles of it on the street, that plan had changed when she and the other girls had received word from Harry.

"Oh this will be ever so much fun," she squealed to herself.

The faces on the script seem to agree as they smirked and twirled their pencil thin Snidely Whiplash mustaches.

Luna gathered the counterfeit currency into a large sack with a galleon symbol on it (sometimes it was best to play to tradition), before tossing a handful of floo powder into the fire.

IIIIIIIIII

Fudge's wife was sitting at a darkened table in the Leaky Cauldron. She was soon joined by another woman.

"Sue?" the other woman asked.

"Yep," Fudge's wife agreed, "Herm?"

"Uh huh," the other woman agreed. She looked around the room. "Where's Harry?"

"He's keeping an eye on Fudge," Susan replied, "nice disguise."

"Thanks," Hermione replied with a grin, "I took the hair off Fudge's secretary."

"I knew the face looked familiar," Susan laughed.

"Who are you?"

"His wife."

"My condolences."

Both the girls had a good laugh at that.

"Luna on the way?"

"Nope," a mannish but rather weedy voice interjected, "she's already here."

The two girls turned to stare into the piggy eyes of Minister Cornelius Fudge.

"Luna?" Hermione asked in shock. "Is that you?"

"It is Hermione," Luna agreed. "I don't think I like having male equipment," Luna added thoughtfully. "But I am grateful it's too small to get in the way like Harry's did that time when I polyjuiced into him to provide an alibi."

"Oh . . . well . . . do you think we should set up shop?"

"I think we should," Luna agreed. She raised his voice. "May I have your attention everyone," Fudge called out. "As you know, we are offering a substantial discount to everyone that pays their taxes off fully."

"I don't have more then half what I owe," a voice called out.

"That's fine," 'Fudge' assured the crowd, "give me half now and we'll pay your taxes off in full while you watch."

"What's the trick?"

"No trick," 'Fudge' assured the man. He turned to the bartender. "Tom, would you like to come over here so we can demonstrate?"

"Don't have much gold on hand," Tom demurred.

"Don't worry about it," 'Fudge' called out. "Come over here."

"Alright then." Tom walked over and placed a large bag of Galleons on the table.

"Let's see," 'Fudge' said, "two thousand Galleons."

"Only a third of what I owe," Tom said mournfully.

"Tell you what," 'Fudge' said with a grin, "why don't we lower our price to an eighth of your taxes?" Luna counted out a stack of Galleons and pushed the rest to Tom. "And now we'll count out what you owe." A large stack of Ministry scrip appeared next to the pile. "Put it in the envelope and . . . here is your receipt, paid in full."

Fudge's wife collected the Gold Galleons that Tom had brought. "Next?"

IIIIIIIIII

A nervous flunky stepped into Fudge's office with a box full of tax forms.

"Yes?" Fudge asked.

"Tax revenue is coming in sir," the flunky replied.

"Wonderful," Fudge enthused, "how much have we got?"

"Enough paper to redo the break room walls," the flunky sighed, "no gold."

"What?" Fudge growled. "Then tell them we refuse to take paper."

"It's our paper sir," the flunky said quickly, "we have to take it."

"Like hell, what'll they do if we say no?"

"Hang us from the nearest lamp post?"

"Yes," Fudge agreed. The thought of being lynched quickly brought focus to his mind. "I suppose there is that."

"What should we do sir?" the flunky asked. "All we have is paper and there isn't a person in the world that will accept it at even a fraction of face value."

"We'll . . . we'll . . ." Fudge was hit by a sudden bolt of inspiration. "We'll make possession of gold a crime and force the people to exchange their gold for Ministry Scrip."

"That could work," the flunky agreed. Providing the people cooperated of course. "Should I begin drawing up the papers for your signature, sir?"

"At once," Fudge agreed.

'And that's my cue,' Harry thought to himself. He waited for the flunky to leave before dropping down from the ceiling

"Who are you?" Fudge blustered.

"Who I am is unimportant," Harry said with a grin. He brandished a large glass jar. "It's what this is that's important."

"What is it?" Fudge took the bait.

Harry just smiled.

IIIIIIIIII

Hermione looked over the crowd with a satisfied smile. She loved getting the opportunity to stick it to the man while she was young enough to properly appreciate it, again.

"Did we get everyone?" she asked the others.

"Think so ma'am," Tom agreed. He'd never known that the Minister and his wife were such wonderful people.

"Then it's time we made our exit," Luna said with Fudge's voice, "coming girls?"

AN: Regarding the whole making possession of gold illegal thing. Don't leave reviews telling me it couldn't happen. If you think it couldn't, go read a few history books. Polish by dogbertcarroll.