Disclaimer: Sadly, it's not mine. If it was, I too would have a castle in Scotland, or wherever JKR lives.

Author's Note: Whoa. It's been a while. The short story is that school and health things got in the way. Also, this chapter has been very difficult to write—it's gone through at least four complete revisions. It seems a little on the short side to me, but there shouldn't be much of a wait for the next chapter, as it's almost ready to be posted. I'm so sorry for the delay and I really appreciate your patience. As always, thanks for the lovely feedback—it always makes my day.

Chapter 10: Analysis

Never ask yourself how much worse a situation can get. For one thing, it's a fairly negative thought and there is something to be said for having a positive attitude. For another, you're practically encouraging fate to continue to behave in an unpleasant manner. However, after the disastrous D. A. meeting the night before, I didn't think it was actually possible for things to continue on their downward course.

The message was on the notice board the very next day:

"Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The fact that the woman managed to spoil my appetite without even entering the room is a poor mark on her character.

"WHAT?!" bellowed Angelina when she read the announcement, causing a group of second years to jump in fright.

"Ah, there's our delicate English rose now," sang Fred cheerily as he came down the stairs with George and Lee in tow.

"Shut up and read the board," she snapped, pointing at the notice board so suddenly and violently that she nearly took out Alicia's eye in the process.

"What's it now, 'laughing is not to be tolerated'?" asked Fred lightly, as though Umbridge were simply a bossy child on the playground who we could ignore without consequence.

"Green knickers must be worn on Tuesdays," suggested George.

"That was the last Educational Decree," said Lee.

"Just read it," stated Angelina, almost wearily.

"It can't be that b—WHAT?!"

The same second years jumped again.

"This is bad," declared George. Lee was speechless for once in his life.

"Why…why would he do this?" asked Alicia.

"He wouldn't have had a choice," said Fred stonily. "Otherwise he wouldn't have left us with her."

"But why?" asked Alicia.

Fred exchanged a look with George and shrugged somberly.

Although none of us had an immediate answer, Hogwarts was well suited to the spread of gossip, and we heard all sorts of theories at breakfast. I didn't know which version of events to believe, as they all seemed rather far-fetched. They did, however, share a common theme: Fudge tried to arrest Dumbledore, but before he could so much as present the warrant, Dumbledore single-handedly overpowered Fudge and fled the school.

Unfortunately, our new Headmistress was not the only regime change within Hogwarts. A new group called the Inquisitorial Squad now skulked through the corridors. Founded by Umbridge, the group was mostly made up of the Slytherins who had taken part in breaking up the D. A. the evening before. They were basically prefects with special privileges and questionable objectivity. There was already significant evidence of power abuse—the point tally for the three other houses was falling fast. Montague had immediately tried to exact his revenge on Fred and George, although he seemed rather fuzzy on what had actually happened in the corridor the previous evening. Before he could go through with whatever he had planned, Fred and George managed to force him into a Vanishing Cabinet.

And although I'm certain that it was both dangerous and in violation of several school rules, I didn't really mind so much. If student revenge was going to be supported by the new administration, it seemed only fair that we got to fight back. Either way, it was one less Inquisitorial Squad member to worry about for the time being.

News of the D. A.'s betrayer made its way around the castle well before lunch. A sixth year Ravenclaw girl called Marietta Edgecombe was spotted in the hospital wing boasting a particularly unfortunate skin condition (there were several rumors as to what the spots on her face actually spelled out—it ranged from 'SNEAK' to words of the four letter variety). The jinx that caused the condition was the brainchild of Hermione, who everyone thought was quite clever (with the exception of several humorless Ravenclaws). I tried to feel sorry for Marietta, but the fact that I had spent a good amount of time hiding terrified in the Owlery made it very difficult.

Although Umbridge now had the D. A.'s roster, Minister Fudge seemed to think we were all bewitched by Dumbledore. Before he fled, Dumbledore apparently took responsibility for the creation of the D. A., which saved Harry Potter from expulsion, I'm sure. Fudge declared that a punishment was not necessary, as we could hardly defend ourselves against a wizard such as Dumbledore.

This did not stop Umbridge from questioning us.

When Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George, Lee, and I arrived at Transfiguration that morning, Professor McGonagall tersely informed us that Professor Umbridge wished to see us in her office.

"And please," she said, lowering her voice, "mind your manners. Things have…changed."

We were all uncharacteristically silent as we walked through the corridors to Umbridge's office. Despite the fact that I didn't want to give her any more power over me, I couldn't help but feel nervous.

"This is going to be lovely," grumbled Angelina just before Fred raised his hand to knock on Umbridge's door. After a moment or so, the door opened and Umbridge herself appeared on the other side, smiling sweetly.

"Good morning, children," she said in a tone that felt sweetly poisonous. "I would like to have a private word with each of you. Why don't we begin with Mr. Jordan?"

Lee looked vaguely horrified as he made his way into her office. Umbridge appeared not to notice.

"If the rest of you would wait out here," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"We could take her if she becomes unreasonable," stated Fred quietly.

"Easily," agreed George.

"She probably wants to warn us," said Alicia. "Fudge said not to punish us—I can't imagine her going along with it without having her say."

"Just as long as the Stylograph's not involved," I sighed. "Otherwise I may be tempted to stick it up her—"

"Sophie!" exclaimed Fred in mock shock.

"I was going to say 'nose,'" I informed him wryly.

"Sure you were," teased George.

"Well, I suppose any orifice would be acceptable, really…" I mused.

After a few more minutes, the door opened and Lee exited the room, looking resolutely at the floor beneath him. Umbridge waited until he had disappeared round the corner before she summoned Alicia, most likely so that Lee wouldn't tell us what we should expect. Fred was after Alicia, then Angelina, and then George. Finally, Umbridge's door opened once more and George exited. He winked at me and strode casually down the corridor. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel reassured or not.

"Miss Fletcher," said Umbridge once George had disappeared round the corner. "Come in."

I reluctantly walked into her office and she followed, shutting the door behind her.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to a pink armchair in front of her desk. I sat down and noticed the chair smelled unpleasantly of spoiled perfume.

"Now," she began, folding her short bejeweled fingers together, "Miss Fletcher, I understand that you were a part of the organization known as Dumbledore's Army."

I paused and briefly considered the wisdom of revealing this to her. Fudge said we were not to be punished, but was that enough for Umbridge? The consequences of the jinx seemed particularly unpleasant as well.

"We've had the jinx removed from the roster," added Umbridge when I did not immediately speak up, her face twisted into a caricature of gentleness.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "I was."

"As you may know," continued Umbridge, "full pardons have been issued to the students involved, as the Minister believes that you were led astray by Albus Dumbledore." Her look hardened slightly. "However, should I learn otherwise, the repercussions would be most severe. Do I make myself clear?"

My hands began shaking involuntarily. I clutched them tightly in my lap.

"Yes, Professor," I said as levelly as I could manage.

"However," she said, softening back into that sickly sweet smile, "I want you to feel safe coming to me about any information that you may have as a result of your involvement in this…organization. Your help may aid us in apprehending Albus Dumbledore and putting him in Azkaban where he belongs."

She said this last part particularly cheerfully and I stiffened.

"He belongs at Hogwarts," I said before I could stop myself.

"I'm afraid you have been terribly misled," she said what she must have thought was a consoling manner. "Albus Dumbledore has lied to you. He has tricked you into believing he is a great man, when in reality, he is treacherous and wicked. 'Dumbledore's Army' was a lie perpetuated on the weak-minded."

I focused on my clasped hand and willed myself to remain silent.

"Miss Fletcher, if you have any information as to his whereabouts, I would encourage you to tell me," she continued, mistaking my silence for acceptance of her twisted truth. "The Minister would be very much indebted to you—why, I imagine you would receive some sort of award!"

"I don't know where Professor Dumbledore is," I said, my voice quavering slightly. Umbridge's face fell a little, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Well, if you change your mind, please come speak with me," she said, as though she hadn't heard what I had just said. "You are excused."

I got up from the chair and exited her office as quickly as I could manage without seeming suspicious. I glanced at my watch as I headed down the corridor. I had wasted nearly half an hour for nothing. I decided that if I failed my Transfiguration N. E. W. T., Umbridge would get a fair share of the blame.

I turned the corner and nearly walked into George.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.

"Waiting for you," he replied, falling into step beside me.

"Didn't she tell you not to?"

"Of course," he replied. "She gave me explicit instructions to go right back to class."

"George!" I exclaimed.

"What?" he asked, with a very contrived air of innocence.

"You heard what McGonagall said," I scolded.

He shrugged. "So?"

"So? So things have changed!" I stated, throwing my hands up in the air. "You can't just ignore her. It's dangerous."

"Umbridge isn't that keen on you. I wanted to make sure you made it out all right," he explained casually.

"You're a damn fool, George Weasley," I sighed, softening slightly. "And if you ever do something this stupid again I will hex you into next week. But thanks."

"'S nothing," he shrugged, brushing off my comment with a smile. "How was it?"

"Oh, you know, 'Dumbledore's a liar, you ought to trust me', 'If you know where Dumbledore's gone…' Honestly. As though he tells me these things."

"Maybe they want to send him a postcard," suggested George. "'Dear Albus: We regret to inform you that we've got a warrant out for your arrest. Hope you're enjoying your holiday—Dolores sends her love. Best wishes, Cornelius Fudge."

I laughed and I got that strange, buoyant sensation somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I decided to think about it later, as I had quite enough to think about as it was.

"Thanks, George," I said after a moment.

"For what?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

"For making me laugh."

"I thought I was a damn fool?" he asked cheekily.

"Well, that can't be helped, I suppose," I said. "But this morning has been awful…I…er…I needed to laugh."

He grinned. "Oh, just you wait."

*

George did not elaborate any further on his cryptic statement, but I got the sense that whatever he had planned would be fairly spectacular.

As it turned out, 'spectacular' barely did it justice.

It was the perfect combination of mayhem and fireworks. I had never seen anything like them. They were beautiful and the best part was that there didn't seem to be an easy way to be rid of them, which made for several entertaining interruptions in many of my classes. The best was History of Magic—a giant Catherine wheel had to go through Professor Binns before he noticed that something was amiss. Lee declared it the best History of Magic lesson ever.

There was a party in progress when I finally got to the common room that evening. Of course, the twins were at the center of it all, flooded by a sea of well-wishers and customers alike.

"I don't believe it," laughed Angelina, handing me a butterbeer as I sank down into a chair.

"It almost makes up for everything that happened today," I sighed, taking a deep drink.

"Did you know anything about it?" Alicia asked Lee.

Lee shook his head. "No, but I could tell something was going to happen. Fred's voice goes slightly up in pitch when he's planning something big."

"Seriously?" asked Alicia, looking somewhat amused.

"You haven't noticed?" said Lee disbelievingly. "He sounded like Flitwick the day we put the Stinksap in Filch's file cabinets."

"It did not," protested the twin in question as he joined our group.

"Only a little," added George, as he collapsed in the chair across from me. He nudged my shin with his foot. "Told you it'd be good."

"That's an understatement," I replied with a grin. "Very well done, gentlemen."

"It was excellent," agreed Lee. "It was worth the three octaves."

"Oh, you ought to have seen her face!" exclaimed Alicia happily as Fred delivered a punch to Lee's shoulder. "Filch, too. It was magnificent."

"What did you use?" asked Angelina, taking the clipboard from Fred.

"Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs," replied Fred promptly as George began rattling off a list of products and prices.

"I expect you'll want us to buy some," stated Angelina, raising an eyebrow at the duo.

"Naturally," agreed Fred.

"We've used up all our stock," stated George in a low voice, "but we could move you up in queue if you keep it quiet."

"And we'll give you a discount if you promise they'll be used on our new Headmistress," added Fred in the same voice.

It was definitely against my better judgment, but I allowed myself to be talked into buying not only a Blaze Box, but several other novelty products that Fred and George insisted were absolutely necessary for the sake of the greater good.

*

I was quite thankful for the timely arrival of the Easter holidays. For one thing, it meant that I was not required to spend any time with Umbridge. Despite the incident with the fireworks earlier in the week, she had developed the most intolerable sort of smugness with her new position. I was only comforted by the fact that Dumbledore's office had apparently sealed itself against her, so she was unable to relocate herself and her awful kittens. I was quite glad to be free of her presence for a week.

Unfortunately, there was still the issue of exams, which were six weeks away. More stressful was the fact that I still didn't know what I wanted to do after I finished school. Everyone else seemed to have definitive plans. Alicia was going to be working for a Muggle relations organization in London that specialized in counseling for Muggles who were particularly reluctant to accept their Wizarding relations. Angelina was going to try for a professional Quidditch career. Fred and George had the joke shop, of course and Lee was going to be involved in that, although mainly in an advertising respect.

I was the only one who had no prospects and no idea what I was doing.

"All right," I declared on the first evening of holiday. We were all lazing around on our usual set of couches. I had a notepad in my lap and a quill balanced between my fingers "I've got to decide on a career. Any suggestions?"

"I told you—come work for us," said George.

"And I told you: not unless I haven't got any other options," I replied. "And I mean no other options."

"We'd give you paid holiday," tempted Fred.

"And a discount," added George.

"I'd like a legitimate career, thanks."

"It is legitimate!" protested Fred. I arched an eyebrow at him. "Untraditional, but legitimate," he conceded.

"I suppose the fact that we've chosen it as our career path is a mark against it," mused George.

"You should make a list," advised Alicia from where she was snugly ensconced against Lee. "That's what I did."

"You were also sending out your résumé in January," said Angelina.

"So? Loads of people were."

"No one else sent theirs to forty-seven separate companies and organizations," Angelina pointed out.

Alicia shrugged. "Well, I got a job, didn't I?"

"Oh, don't rub it in," I moaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Sorry," said Alicia.

"Oh, don't worry, Sophie," Angelina reassured me. "I haven't done anything about a job yet."

"But you know what you want to do," I replied weakly.

"Well…yes," admitted Angelina. "But I'm sure you'll have an idea sometime soon," she added hastily.

The conversation strayed to other topics from there. It seemed as though George was the only one who had the patience to listen to my ongoing dilemma.

"You know, you can work for us," he repeated. "If you can't decide on anything right away and you need some money to get on your feet."

"You're sweet, George, but I've got to make my own way," I sighed. "I can't rely on charity from friends."

"I know, love," he replied, patting me on the shoulder. "But that's what we're here for, honestly."

"Oh, go on."

"I'm serious!" he replied. "Do you think we'd just sit and watch if you got into trouble?"

"I just think I ought to be able to get myself out of my own trouble, you know?" I said.

"Yes…but what I don't understand is why you're so upset about all this."

"It's frustrating," I replied. "I can't work at the bookshop stocking shelves for the rest of my life, but I haven't got any better ideas."

"There are loads of things you can do."

"Like what?"

"You could be a librarian," he suggested.

I shrugged. "I've thought about it…but I'd hate to turn out like Madam Pince."

"You're not nearly cross enough," he assured me. "You're a good writer as well. You could do something with that."

"I'm a fair writer," I shrugged. "There are others who are much better than me."

"Well, if you're going to be negative…"

"I'm sorry…" I sighed heavily. "I'm just…I'm frustrated."

"You'll be all right," he said reassuringly.

I gave a slight half-smile. "Thanks, George."

"Oy," said Fred, kicking his brother on the shin, "kitchen raid?"

"Absolutely," said George.

"How can you be hungry?" demanded Alicia, poking Lee in the ribs. "You ate an entire steak and kidney pie not an hour ago!"

"Exactly," said Lee. "It was a light meal."

"I give up," declared Alicia with a sigh as Lee rose from the couch.

"Well, if there's ever a famine in Britain, we'll know why," said Angelina.

"All right, ladies, we're off," declared Fred dramatically. "We may not return—"

"Pity," said Angelina sarcastically.

"You're out of my will," stated Fred.

"Oh and I had my eye on your collection of trick cauldrons," sighed Angelina in mock sadness.

"Yes, well, Alicia and Sophie are getting those now."

"Wonderful," said Alicia with a slight hint of sarcasm.

"Just what I always wanted!" I added. Fred raised an eyebrow at us both.

"Careful, or you two will be next," he warned.

Alicia smiled and rolled her eyes. "All right, we'll be nice. Go on and have your fun."

"They are so bizarre," stated Angelina, shaking her head as the boys clambered out of the portrait hole.

"That's hardly new," replied Alicia. She looked at me and smiled. "So. Are you going to tell what that was about?"

"Er…I was discussing my lack of career prospects with George," I said carefully. "What of it?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, although her amused expression indicated that 'nothing' was not an accurate assessment of whatever she happened to be thinking.

"Oh, right," I said, arching an eyebrow, "you're just acting devious for no reason."

She shrugged. "It was just a thought."

"I have a slight idea what this 'just a thought' nonsense means," I replied. "And your thought is wrong."

She looked mildly surprised. "Oh?"

I sighed. "Really, Alicia, there were no subtle undertones to that conversation, no matter what you might think."

"Oh?"

"Of course not," I stated.

"So you were blushing for no particular reason?" asked Alicia, barely hiding a smug grin.

"Perhaps in your deluded, overly romantic head I was."

"You were," confirmed Angelina. "And you giggled as well."

"I did not."

"You were flirting, Sophie," said Alicia bluntly.

"Oh, please."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You were. You have been for ages now."

"You're mad," I retorted.

"I'm mad?" she asked, placing a hand to her chest. "I'm dating the bloke I fancy. You—"

"Don't fancy anyone," I finished for her.

"Yes, you do," argued Angelina teasingly. I sighed.

"Ask anyone," offered Alicia. "They'd agree with me."

"What do you mean 'anyone'?" I asked cautiously.

She shrugged. "People. You two are so often together that I think most people assume—"

I sighed. This was not a conversation that I wanted to be having right now. Or ever, really.

"Really, Sophie, you can tell us," said Alicia.

"I don't have anything to tell you," I said, laughing.

"Is it because he's a friend?" asked Angelina. "Is that why you're dodging it?"

"It worked out fine for me and Lee," added Alicia. "Seriously, it's not worth worrying about."

"There's nothing going on," I insisted. "I don't know how many times I have to say it."

"Psh," said Angelina dismissively.

"There's something going on," said Alicia. "You just don't want to admit it."

"It's been going on for about a year now," added Angelina.

"We're friends," I insisted.

"I'm sure you've at least thought about it," prodded Alicia.

"No, not really."

"But you have thought about it," declared Angelina triumphantly.

"No! Look…" I cleared my throat and glanced nervously at the portrait hole. The last thing I needed was them walking in on this conversation. "I don't really see…in my experience, if you've been friends for this long, it's not going to turn into…something else, so why bother?"

"Your experience? With Kenneth Towler?" asked Angelina skeptically.

"No, I mean just…what I've observed."

"I've been friends with Lee for quite a while, Sophie," Alicia pointed out.

"You're an exception."

"That's not a terribly strong argument," replied Alicia.

"It's not a terribly strong point. Anecdotal evidence can't disprove an entire universal rule!"

"It's not universal—you just said it was in your own experience," countered Alicia.

"Well, you know what I meant."

"Let's put it this way: if he expressed an interest, what would you say?" asked Angelina.

"He wouldn't."

Angelina sighed. "Well, let's pretend for the sake of argument that he would. What would you say?"

"I-I don't know, I'd have to think about it," I said.

"What's to think about? He's a nice bloke," said Angelina.

"It would complicate things."

"No, not really," said Alicia. "And I'm speaking from actual experience, mind you."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

"Look, it's obvious that we're not going to agree on this and it will be quite uncomfortable if they come back in here in the middle of this conversation, so let's just leave it alone for now."

"Fine," sighed Alicia. "But we're still right."

"You're still mad," I corrected her.

"You know that we'll insist on discussing it further later, right?" asked Angelina.

"If I didn't, I reckon I wouldn't know you very well," I replied.

As I was finishing that sentence, the portrait door swung open and the boys returned, talking loudly and laden with food. I suddenly found it very difficult to look at George, mainly because Angelina and Alicia were obviously paying very close attention.

"Is there anything left?" asked Alicia incredulously as Lee placed a steak and kidney pie down on the table in front of us.

"Well, they wanted us to take more," shrugged Fred, setting what looked like a small wheel of cheese on the table, "but we've only got so many arms."

"Honestly, they shouldn't encourage you," stated Alicia.

"I knew you'd say that," said Lee triumphantly, presenting her with one of the many plates he had balanced in his hands, "which is why I brought you this."

Alicia glanced at the plate with a combination of surprise and amusement.

"Blackberry pie," declared Lee proudly. "It's your favorite."

"Did you take this big bite out of the middle?" asked Alicia, arching her eyebrow at the plate.

Lee shrugged. "I got hungry."

"Never mind the mountains of other food you had with you, or the massive meal you had at dinner," said Alicia wryly, picking up her fork. "Oh, well, I suppose it's the thought. Thanks, Lee." She pecked him chastely on the cheek. Lee looked quite pleased with himself.

"Any new revelations?" asked George. I felt the color drain slightly from my cheeks. Had he heard after all?

"Sorry?"

"Your future career," he reminded me. The slight panic immediately abated.

"Oh! Right. Er, no. Angelina and Alicia weren't very helpful." Alicia smirked into her blackberry pie and Angelina looked pleased with herself.

"Eh, not to worry. You've got time yet," said George, thankfully oblivious to the ongoing subtext.

I gave Angelina and Alicia a stern look. Thanks to them, I had a whole other issue to worry about over holiday.

*

The frustrating part about Easter holiday was that it was nearly everything but a holiday. N. E. W. Ts were coming up in six weeks and most people ended up using it as an extended studying session. In addition to studying, most seventh years were beginning to prepare for their life after school, which was also stressful.

However, one of the most stressful parts of my holiday was the fact that I spent most of my time studying with Alicia and Angelina. And because the boys were not quite as academically motivated, it was often just the three of us, which resulted in the inevitable discussion.

Part of the problem was that I wasn't terribly comfortable discussing such things. I suppose I thought it was very personal—so personal that I didn't even bother to think about it that often. In third year, when it became trendy for the girls to fancy boys, my own interests were kept a closely guarded secret. Not even Viv knew, despite her pleadings and vows of absolute secrecy. I confessed well after the fact (namely, until the boy in question had finished his studies at Hogwarts and I had lost interest), at which point I was quite glad I had kept it to myself—both Angelina and Alicia had a very difficult time understanding what I saw in Oliver Wood (read: they laughed a lot).

It also made me uncomfortable because it wasn't just anyone—it was George. The fact that we had been friends all this time told me that it was fairly impossible for anything to develop and because of that, I didn't give it much thought. There wasn't much use getting your hopes up. But Angelina and Alicia's prodding forced me to at least think about it.

This was also not particularly comfortable.

It was uncomfortable to admit to myself that I wasn't exactly opposed to the idea. George wasn't equivalent to odd Herbert Byron or anything like that. But it was difficult to view our relationship as anything other than a friendship—qualities I liked about him were easily explained by the fact that we were friends.

It was uncomfortable to notice that the stupid leaping, buoyant sensation in my stomach seemed to be directly correlated to George's presence. I wasn't certain if it was indicative of my feelings or if it was merely a result of nerves brought on by the discussion in the first place.

It was uncomfortable to notice and analyze such things—did I always laugh quite like that? Was I blushing more than usual? Did I seem nervous? And why?

It was uncomfortable to pick every interaction apart looking for clues.

It was uncomfortable to know that even if I did reach some sort of conclusion, I would probably be too afraid to act on it.

However, it was most uncomfortable to think that all my analysis and uncertainty about how I felt might be a complete waste of time if there wasn't interest on the other end of things.

This, of course, reminded me why I tried to avoid thinking about these sorts of things in the first place.