The Insiders

Before the new term was due to start on the First, Lucius met with Draco and Luna, and Lucius and Xeno.

"So what are we doing?", Draco asked.

"Keep an eye on the kids. Keep them safe, and us informed in case Dumbledore does something foolish again".

"How do we communicate?"

"Owls"

"I thought you said Hogwarts' owls were compromised?", Luna asked.

"That's a safe assumption, I agree. You won't be owling in the clear…"

"Codes then?", he objected, "there are spells…"

"As with everything else, the Wizarding World stopped in the Middle Ages. What you are referring to, Draco, are cyphers. As you pointed out, cyphers are easily broken. You, however, will be using one time pads. It's extremely low tech, but effective. No spell will crack a one time pad".

Lucius handed over a small booklet of pages stapled together. Nothing but column after column of five digit numbers.

"Here's how you work it: all the numbers you see there are random, no patterns, which is what makes this impossible to crack. I have the duplicates here, so begin your messages with your first name. What you do is number the letters: A is one, B is two, C – three, D – four, etc, etc, etc. Write out your message, and number all the letters. Take those letters and add them to the numbers on your pad, starting with the left hand column, and working your way down. Send the new numbers off as an owlpost, and I'll know what you've written. After you've done that, tear off the page with the numbers you just used and get rid of it. If our owls are intercepted, it won't make any difference, it's just numbers. If questioned, just tell 'em it has something to do with Arithmancy.

"It would be nicer if we had more insiders, but I don't see how Hermione will ever go back, and Ginny knows too much as it is.

"Keep it short and sweet, don't be sending me essays, and your pads should last a good long while. Any questions?"

There were none.

"Then off to Hogwarts, and good luck".

"Guess you'll be back at Beaux Batons?", Harry said to Hermione.

"All things considered, I highly doubt Mum and Dad will disagree. See you over Christmas break".

"Be lookin' forward to it. Give Madam Maxime my regards".

"Will do".

Lucius apparated the Grangers back to Surry.

12 Grimmauld Pl.

Ron woke up to pure pandemonium: "C'mon! Get your ass in gear!", it was Fred and George. "Mum's going ballistic, 'fraid we'll miss the train!"

It wasn't easy, getting four kids co-ordinated.

"Awwight, 'comin'"

"RON! DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"COMING!", he called back.

Arthur was waiting at the curb beside his Anglia. They had to wait until he gave the "all-clear", lest the neighbors see Molly and her brood seemingly materialize out of nowhere. They packed their trunks into what would have looked like a too small boot. Inside, there was more than enough room for everyone.

"Why don't we try that flying feature?", Fred asked.

"Absolutely not!", Molly said, "and don't you even think about it", she said to her husband.

"Yes, Dear", he said.

They parked at King's Cross, unloaded, and made their way to Platform 9.75. The Weasley kids recognized Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco, but none came over to say a word. Luna and Xeno were also there, as was Neville and Madam Longbottom.

"Another year", Madam Longbottom said. "OWLs this year for you two", she said to Fred and George. "How time does fly".

"It certainly does", they agreed.

"So you guys ready?", Neville asked.

"I suppose", Ron said.

"Sure thing", Ginny told him.

"So how was your summer?", Neville asked.

"Don't ask", Ron told him. He wanted nothing more to complain about how much it sucked, spending the bulk of his time cleaning up that old house, and being rewarded for it by being cut out of all the Order of the Phoenix meetings. That would, however, lead to an unpleasant scene.

"We have big plans for this year", Fred and George said with a sly wink.

"I hope you're planning on getting as many OWLs as you can", Molly interjected. "The more you have, the better for your future!"

"ALL ABOARD! ALL ABOARD!", the conductor called out. Many hurried good-bye's. This spared Fred and George another argument with their mother. Fred, George and Ginny settled in with Luna. Another long ride to Hogwarts, and Fred and George were wishing they'd taken the flying Anglia.

"What'cha got there?", Fred asked of Luna who had a magazine that she was holding upside down. "Can I have a look?"

"Sure, but give it back, I'm not through".

The article she was reading was about a spell that supposedly turned the target's ears into kumquats, but it was written in runes. The article said it made sense only if read upside down, which explained why she was doing something so strange, but Luna was always doing strange things.

"Article about Sirius here", Fred announced.

"Harry's godfather?", Ginny asked.

SIRIUS BLACK: VILLAIN OR VICTIM?

Sirius: Black as he's painted or innocent singing sensation?

Almost fifteen years ago, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial for the murders of twelve muggles and one wizard. Recently, Black made a daring escape from the wizarding prison, and has been the target of the largest man hunt the Ministry has ever conducted. Few have ever doubted that he deserves to be caught, and turned over to the dementors.

BUT DOES HE?

Startling new evidence has just come to light that Sirius Black may not have committed the crimes of which he was accused. Doris Purkiss:

"What people don't realize is that Sirius Black is really KitsuNoir, front man of The Furries. I can attest to the fact that, during the time of the crimes, we were sharing a candle light dinner. I have sent a letter to the Ministry explaining this, and I'm expecting they'll announce a pardon any day now".

The Furries perform as animals. According to Purkiss: "They don't wish to be recognized out in public as they don't want to become prisoners of their fame".

He flicked back a few pages to the article about Fudge:

Cornelius Fudge has long insisted that he wants friendly relations with the guardians of our gold, the goblins of Gringott's.

BUT DOES HE?

Ministry insiders tell us that he wants to get his hands on the goblins' gold supply, and would like nothing better than to turn Gringott's over to wizarding control.

"Yes, I know what he says in public, but it's a different story when he thinks no one is listening. Cornelius – Goblin Crusher – Fudge, that's what his closest friends call him in private, will resort to force to get what he wants. He has had goblins drowned, poisoned, thrown off skyscrapers, and even baked into pies".

There were accusations that the Tutshill Tornados were first in their Quiddich league due to a combination of blackmail, broom tampering, and torture. Another feature was an interview with a wizard who claimed he flew a Cleansweep Six to the Moon, and returned with a sack-full of lunar frogs to prove it.

"What else would you expect from The Quibbler?", Ginny asked. "It's pure rubbish. How can you read that bullshit?"

"Excuse me", Luna protested, "my father's the publisher. May I have my magazine back?"

"I… ummmmm… didn't mean anything by it… There are some… interesting things in there…", Ginny said, embarrassed.

"Say, see what I got?", Neville asked as he dropped by for a visit.

He was showing off something that looked decidedly uninteresting: a potted "cactus", though it was gray-green and covered with what looked like boils instead of thorns. They all understood Neville and his plants.

"So what do you call that?", Ginny asked.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia", he said, "they're really quite rare. "My uncle Algie picked it up for me during a business trip to Syria. I doubt Hogwarts has one in the green houses, so Professor Sprout should be interested. I'm planning on seeing if I can breed it".

Ron looked on, not impressed. He did notice that it was pulsating slightly.

"So what do you do with it?", he asked.

"It has a really amazing defense mechanism", Neville was explaining while going through his book bag. He pulled out a quill.

"Let's see…", he said as he prodded the plant with the tip of the quill.

The strange plant shot forth from every "boil", a dark green slimy substance that splattered the windows, ceiling, got all over Luna's Quibbler – an amazing amount considering the size of the plant. The substance smelled like rancid manure.

"YUCK!", Fred and George called out as they were hit with the mess.

"Sorry, never actually tried that before", Neville apologized. "Don't worry, it smells a lot worse than it is. Stinksap isn't toxic", he explained.

"Just don't do it again", Ginny said as she cast the "Scourgify" spell that cleaned up the mess.

"Thoroughly disgusting!", Ron said.

"You asked for it", Fred and George reminded. "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it".

The weather wasn't co-operating as the rain made the scenery difficult to watch. They all hoped it would break by the time they arrived at Hogwarts. They reconsidered that the Quibbler wasn't so bad after all.

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

The first shock was their arrival at the Hogsmeade station.

"Firsties over here! Firsties over here!", but it wasn't Hagrid calling the Firsties over, but rather Professor Grubbly-Planc who taught part of Hagrid's class last year.

"Where's Hagrid?", Ron asked.

"Dunnow", Ginny told him, but we'd best get moving, we're blocking the door".

"Oh yeah", he replied as he moved forward toward the carriages the second year and up students took.

"Oh well", Luna said, "he wasn't all that great a teacher".

"Was too!", Ron, Fred and George challenged.

"He's kind of a joke in Ravenclaw", Ginny explained. "It's easy to see why he's so popular, being he's an easy 'O' and wants to make Care more fun than informative".

"You're getting to be a regular dorkette", Ron complained, "Ravenclaw's been rubbing off on you. Don't see why you couldn't get into Gryffindor".

Ginny thought it best to let that pass. After all, Ron got few 'O's', and Care of Magical Creatures was one of them so long as Hagrid ran the class.

"I'd still like to know what happened to Hagrid", he said as the carriage made its way to the castle. "He couldn't've left… could he?"

"Probably still working on that summer project the Professor assigned him", Ginny explained.

"How hard could that be?"

"No idea, but it's a possibility. Don't worry about it; I'm sure he'll be back", Ginny reassured.

"Wouldn't leave Hogwarts without at least saying 'Goodbye'", Fred pointed out. Fred, Ron, George, Ginny and Neville all piled into one of the carriages that Luna insisted were pulled by these skin and bones, skeletal, black, winged horses with silver eyes. They saw nothing of the sort.

Luna went with the other Slytherin outcasts: Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Millicent. Their arrival was on one of the nastiest early fall evenings they could recall. The sky gloomy with clouds that threatened a down pour any second now… an uncharacteristic chill in the air that they all hoped wasn't a portent of an especially lousy winter.

As they passed through the gate, with its winged boars as decorations atop the stone pillars, the grounds were in almost complete darkness. No sign of any lights from the Game Keeper's cabin, the castle appearing against the sky, with a window here and there glowing brightly. The carriages pulled up by the main entrance and students climbed the stone stairs, feet clip-clopping on the flag stone floor as everyone made their way into the Great Hall for another Welcome Feast.

The members of the various Houses took their places, the room abuzz with conversation about comparing summers, and speculation as to what new staff would be, especially DADA, which had yet to have a single professor serve for more than one term. Sure enough, there were, not one, but two new faces at the long staff table. One, looking like a maiden aunt, was deep in conversation with the Headmaster. He, in his midnight blue dress robes with sliver stars and a matching hat. The new arrival squat, with short, mouse brown hair with a hideous Alice band stuck in her hair that matched the fuzzy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

That Professor Grubbly-Planc took the place where Hagrid usually sat meant the Firsties had arrived. Seconds later, the doors opened and Professor McGonagall led the procession forward to the front of the Hall. She had the Sorting Hat and stool, which she placed in front of the line of Firsties. One small boy in the middle looked to faint any second now…

The Hat began its customary song:

In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The Founders of our noble school
Thought to be never parted…

This time, the Hat was unusually long-winded. Most ceased paying much attention, as they'd heard it all before: the reiteration of each Founder's history and aims for a magical school, the descriptions of the characters of the Houses. It wasn't until the end that caught everyone's attention:

Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you.
Still I worry that it is wrong.
Though I must fulfill my duty to
Quarter every year, still I wonder if
Sorting won't bring the end I fear
O know the perils, read the signs
The warning history shows
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes.
We must unite inside Her.
Or crumble from within.
I have told you; I have warned you.
Now let the Sorting begin.

"Anyone remember the Hat's giving out warnings?", Neville asked.

"It happens occasionally", Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost said, "usually during times it believes to be especially perilous..."

This had never happened before in their memories, and there was much whispered conversation until McGonagall took out a long parchment and gave everyone a look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick put finger to lips as the room quieted down.

"Abercombie, Euan", she called out. That boy who looked like he was going to feint any second now came forward. Only his over large ears prevented the Hat from dropping completely over his head. It pondered for a moment:

"GRYFFINDOR!", it called out.

The Gryffindors waved the new boy over to their table. He was quite shy, looking like he'd like nothing better than to melt into the floor, never to be seen again. The line thinned, but not fast enough to suit Ron.

Finally, Rose Zeller was sorted into Hufflepuff, and McGonagall took the stool and Hat back to the Headmaster's office for another year. Dumbledore rose from his guilded chair:

"To our newcomers", he announced with arms spread wide, "welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time and place for speeches, but that time is not now, and that place isn't here. Tuck in!"

There was applause and laughter, as the food arrived in quantities that almost made the tables groan under the weight of joints and platters and plates of vegetables, and pies and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice. Ron grabbed the closest platter of chops and piled his plate high.

"What were you saying about the Hat and warnings?", Neville asked.

"Yes, indeed", Nearly Headless Nick explained, "there have been times when the Hat believed Hogwarts was in danger and has issued warnings. Its advice is always the same: stay strong and stay united".

"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?", Ron said with his mouth stuffed with chops and roast potatos. Potato spraying down the front of his robes.

"Best not to look", Pansy warned from the Slytherin side directly opposite the Gryffindor table. "I see the Weasleys have yet to teach him some table manners".

"I don't know who's the bigger slob", Luna said, "Ron or that Durmstrang boy, remember him?"

"Yes, much as I'd like to forget", Draco said.

"I beg your pardon?", Nearly Headless Nick said.

Ron somehow managed to choke down his mouthful: "How can it know if the school is in danger if it's a Hat?"

"Well, I suppose it hears things, as it lives in Dumbledore's office and has a whole year to think about what it hears up there".

"And it wants all the Houses to be friends?", Ron cast a look across the Hall. "Fat chance", he said as he glared at the Slytherins.

"You shouldn't take that attitude", Nick said. "Peaceful co-existence: that's the key. We ghosts are from different Houses too. Despite the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never seek out to start an argument with the Bloody Baron…"

"Only because you're afraid of him", Ron protested.

"Afraid? I would hope that I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsey-Porpington, has never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs through my veins…"

"What blood? What veins?", Ron said.

"It's a figure of speech, you dolt! Even though I am denied the pleasures of food and drink, I would hope that I still have the use of whatever metaphors I like! I can assure you: I am quite used to students and their making fun of how I died."

Ron's mouth was filled to overflowing once again: "Node iddum eentup eschew"

Nicholas didn't believe this an adequate apology. He straightened his feathered hat and departed for the other end of the table to sit with Colin and Dennis Creevey.

Once the food was consumed, the deserts served, the plates cleared, Dumbledore rose to give his customary opening speech:

"Now that we're all digesting another wonderful feast, a few words: I remind everyone that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits, both our new arrivals, and some of our older students as well…"

Did he give a momentary glare Fred's and George's way?

"...There is a reason why it's called the 'Forbidden Forest'. Now I know we all like to explore, but I must insist, and I ask your co-operation in seeing that all our students return to their homes safe and sound.

"Mr. Filch, our Care Taker, has asked me for the four hundred, sixty second time, to remind everyone that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes. You may want to stop by his office to read the notice of other prohibited behaviours and objects attached to his office door.

"I would also like to welcome two new-comers to our faculty. First, Professor Grubbly-Planc is returning as Care of Magical Creatures Professor during Professor Hagrid's sabbatical..."

Dumbledore bowed towards her as she gave a wave. There were applause around the tables.

"Professor Umbridge will be joining us as our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor…"

He gave the same bow of welcome to the maiden auntie in the pink cardigan.

"Try-outs for Quiddich teams will be held…"

This Professor Umbridge stood at her place.

"Hem, hem", she gave that throat clearing sound.

This had never happened before, and Dumbledore looked surprised for just a moment. The other professors, and the students, didn't conceal it as well. Dumbledore sat back down, looking at her as though he desired nothing more than to hear what she had to say. Professor Sprout's eye brows disappeared into her fly-away hair, and McGonagall's mouth was thinner than anyone could remember. That was always a bad sign.

"Thank you for that most gracious welcome, Professor", she began in a breathy, high-pitched, little girl voice that didn't sound the least bit genuine.

"My! It's been a long time since I sat in this very Hall. So good to be back at Hogwarts as a professor, and to see all the happy little faces out there".

Students were looking around for those happy little faces, but none were in evidence. Just shocked looks at the effrontery of interrupting the Headmaster, and bewilderment as to why she was taking to them like they were a bunch of five year olds.

"I am looking forward to meeting each and every one of you; I'm sure we will be very good friends…"

"I'll be her friend if she lets me borrow that cardigan", Luna said to Pansy. Luna and Pansy had her hands over her mouths in silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("Hem, hem") and continued, but the voice was quite different, more business-like as she began a speech that sounded like something she'd memorized.

"The Ministry of Magic has always held the highest priority on the education of young magi. The rare gifts with which all of you were born will come to nothing unless perfected and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills of the Wizarding World must be passed down through the generations, lest we lose them forever. The store of Magical knowledge bequeathed to us by our ancestors needs preserving, polishing, and replenishing by those of us called to the noble profession of teaching".

Professor Umbridge gave a slight bow to her colleagues, none of whom returned the gesture. Instead, McGonagall's eyebrows contracted so far as to give her a hawkish look. She exchanged glances with Professor Sprout.

("Hem, hem")

"Each Headmaster and Headmistress has brought something unique to the Hogwarts experience. This is as it should be for without progress there is stagnation and decay. However, this does not imply that progress, just for the sake of progress, is a good thing, in and of itself. This is where tradition is an invaluable guide. A proper balance between the old and the new, change and permanence, tradition and innovation…"

Attention around the tables was waning fast: Cho Chang was having a discussion with her friends, Luna had her Quibbler out, about the only one who looked to be paying attention was Earnie MacMillan at the Hufflepuffs' table, but his eyes had a glassy look, like the body was present, but the mind far away. By now, a full-on riot wouldn't've been noticed, or deterred Umbridge from speaking.

"Some changes will be for the better, but others, in the fullness of time, will be recognized as errors of judgment. Some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, therefore, let us enter into a new era of openness, accountability, and efficiency, preserving what needs to be preserved, perfecting that which needs perfecting, and pruning where we need to prune".

Umbridge sat down, and Dumbledore applauded, leading the polite, but unenthusiastic, applause from faculty and students alike. Snape and McGonagall gave just the barest minimum: two claps each.

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge", Dumbledore congratulated, "that was most enlightening". He managed to say it as though he meant it.

"He's too kind", Ron said. "Nothing enlightening about that… damned rude, if you ask me".

"You should've paid more attention", Katie Bell said.

"Load of waffle, if you ask me", Ron replied.

"Yes, it was, and a more canned speech I've never heard. However, there was a lot of truth between the lines", she continued her explanation, "this means that the Ministry and Fudge are interfering with Hogwarts to an unprecedented level. Looks like they're looking for a reason to ease Dumbledore out".

"After last summer, I'm not surprised", Dean Thomas said. "All that blather about Hewhomustnotbenamed and how he's back".

"You can't believe everything you read in the Prophet", George objected.

There was a scratching of benches as everyone was leaving the Great Hall for their dorms. The debate continued in Gryffindor's Common Room. Neville, Fred, and George taking Dumbledore's side. Dean Thomas, and Alicia Spinnet taking sides with the Ministry, that it was all so much nonsense.

"Mum almost didn't let me come back", Seamus Finnegan explained. He'd convinced his parents to allow him to return just last year. "Says Dumbledore's losing it…"

"So she believes everything the Prophet says?", Fred asked.

"Dumbledore's insane, senile, or an evil Machiavellian plotter out to get his job?", George added. "So which is it?"

"The Prophet changes its story more often than some people change their underwear", Fred said with a glance Ron's way.

"They really are the limit", Clarence Livermore, Gryffindor's new Boys' Prefect, told himself as he took down a sign that had been posted over the notice of the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October over the previous night:

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!

Income not keeping up with outgo?

Need some extra walkin' around money?

SEE FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY,

Gryffindor Common Room for easy, virtually painless

Part time work

(We regret to inform all that all work is at the applicant's risk)

"Hey!", George complained.

"I know what this is about and I can't allow it", Clarence explained. "Test that shit on yourselves, if you must, but our Firsties are not your guinea pigs".

"We do test it ourselves first, to make sure there's no harm, but we need to test to get dosages correct, and to see if there aren't any unforeseen side effects".

"Marketing research, yannow", Fred said.

"Sorry, guys, but that's the way it'll have to be: no experimenting on Firsties – or anyone else here at Hogwarts".

In the Great Hall, there came a whoosh as over a hundred owls flew in through an open window to deliver the daily mail. They also showered the people below with drops of water as it was raining hard outside. McGonagall was moving past the table with the daily schedule.

"Look at this!", Ron was complaining, "History of Magic, Divination, Double Potions, Double Defense… Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman: all in one day… I wish Fred and George would get those Skiving Snackboxes in order…"

"Can let you have some Nosebleed Nougats real cheap", Fred said.

"Why're they cheap?", Ron asked.

"Don't have an antidote just yet".

"I'll take the lessons, thank you so very much", Ron pocketed his schedule.

"Anyway, Little Brother, quitcherbitchin'", George added, "you aren't taking your OWLs this year".

"How bad can it be?"

"They'll be keeping our noses to the grind stone they'll be rubbed raw", Fred said.

"Half the last year had minor breakdowns coming up on the OWLs…", George reminded.

"Patricia Stimpson was coming up feint. Kennith Towler actually broke out with boils…", Fred reminisced.

"That's because you put Bulbadox Powder in his Pjs", George reminded.

"I forgot about that", Fred said.

"So what are your plans for this year?", Ron asked.

"I figure we'll shoot for three OWLs a-piece…", Fred explained.

"Bare minimum", George completed that thought. "Our future isn't in academia, and do we really need NEWTs? Mother won't like it, but we're keeping that to ourselves, what with Percy's turning into such a prat".

"We're not wasting our final year. We'll use it to do marketing research, see what the average Hogwarts student would like to see in a joke shop, and tailor our product line to best serve those needs".

"Of course, Mother doesn't need to hear about that just yet", Fred and George reminded.

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

As the students filed into the classroom for Defense, Professor Umbridge was already there, behind her desk. She was wearing the same pink fluffy cardigan she wore to the Welcome Feast. This time, with a large black bow in her hair that looked as though an enormous fly perched there. The students entered warily, as this Professor was an unknown quantity.

"Well, good afternoon!", she greeted enthusiastically as they took their places. She said it in that faux pleasant, little girl voice.

"'Noon", some of the students, fresh from History and Divination grunted back.

"Tut, tut", Umbridge said, "That won't do, no, that won't do at all. When I say 'Good afternoon', I expect you to say 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. Let's try that again: Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge", they intoned as one.

"There now; much better. That wasn't that hard, now was it? Shall we get started: quills and parchment out; wands away".

Students exchanged wordless looks as they fished the parchment, quills, and inkpots from book bags. "Wands away" never meant anything good.

Umbridge opened her hand bag, and took out an unusually short wand to tap the blackboard. A message appeared:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A return to basic principles

Hands clasped in front of her: "Until now, your instruction in this course has been rather fragmented and disjoint. Between the high turn-over rate and substandard instructors who don't seem to have followed any Ministry approved course outlines. This has unfortunately led to your being well behind what we would expect for your class year.

"You will be pleased to know that we will be correcting the problem. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-based, Ministry-approved course of defensive magick this year. If you will copy down the following…"

She tapped the blackboard again, and a new message appeared:

Course Objectives

* Understanding the principles underlying defensive magick

* Learning to recognize occasions where defensive magick may legally be used

* Placing defensive magick in contexts for practical use

There was scratching of quills for a couple of minutes. After everyone had enough time to write the course outline, she asked: "Has everyone brought their copy of Defensive Magical Theory?"

More calls of "Uh-huh", "Yeah", "OK"

"I think we need to try again", she said. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer of 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. Did everyone bring their copy of Defensive Magical Theory?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge", they answered in chorus.

"Good. Now I would like you to turn to page five and read the first chapter: 'Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need for talk".

The text was as excruciating as one of Binns' lectures. A page and a half in, and eyelids were growing heavy. Dean was abscent-mindedly twirling his quill, eyes fixed on one spot on the page. Draco glanced over to see that Ginny hadn't bothered to open the book. She sat there, hand in the air, staring at Umbridge as though trying to call her attention with ESP. Umbridge was looking in another direction with just as much determination. This contest of wills drew the attention of half the class. It was more interesting than "Basics for Beginners".

Finally. Umbridge seemed to notice: "You had a question about the chapter, Miss…"

"… Ginny Weasley, Professor Umbridge. Not about the chapter…"

"We're reading now, Dear, if you have some other question, ask it after class".

"I wanted to ask about the class objectives".

"I should think they were plain enough, if you read and copied them".

"Yes, Professor Umbridge, but where is the mention of actually using defensive spells?"

"Using defensive spells?", she repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any reason to use a defensive spell in class. Surely, Miss Weasley, you aren't expecting to be attacked here in my classroom?"

"We aren't gonna use magick?", Neville called out.

"In my class, my students are expected to raise their hands if they wish to speak. Mr…"

"… Longbottom". He put his hand up, as did Ginny.

"You wanted to ask something else, Miss Weasley?"

"Isn't the whole point of Defense practicing defense?"

"Tell me, how old are you?"

"Thirteen, Professor".

Umbridge flipped through some papers on her desk.

"I see you skipped a year ahead with Advanced Placement credits. A Ravenclaw: you fancy yourself pretty smart, do you?"

"Well, Professor, I... ummmm... did OK last year", Ginny tried to downplay it. She could see where this was leading.

"And are you, perhaps, a Ministry trained and licensed educational expert?"

"No, Professor Umbridge, but …"

"Then you are not qualified to be determining what the point of any class is, Miss Weasley. Wizards with far more experience than you, who are cleverer than you, have created the course outline. You will be learning defense in a risk-free and secure manner"

"What use is that?! No attack will be risk-free..."

"Hand, Mr Malfoy!", Umbridge said it, still with that faux pleasant tone.

Draco and several others had their hands up.

"And you might be?"

"Thomas, Professor, Dean Thomas".

"Well, Mr Thomas?"

"It's like Draco said, isn't it? If we're attacked, it won't be in a risk free way".

"Let me reiterate: are you expecting to be attacked here in class?"

"No, but…"

"I do not wish to criticize how Hogwarts has done things in the past, however, you have been exposed to some wizards of dubious responsibility. You have been exposed to spells of a complexity beyond your level of understanding, some of which had lethal consequences. It is my understanding that the last professor of this class not only performed illegal spells in the classroom, but actually performed them on you…"

"Mad Eye was kind of a maniac…"

"Hand, Mr Thomas!"

"... We did learn loads from him..."

"You have been frightened into believing that you will meet dark attacks every other day…"

"No, we haven't…"

"Your hand is not up Miss Weasley!

"It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which is what school is for…

"Yes?"

Another hand had gone up.

"Parvati Patil, Professor. Isn't there a practical part of the OWL in Defense? How can we pass that part of the exam without practice? If we haven't done the counter spells?"

"If you pay attention and study, there is no reason why you shouldn't be able to perform the required spells in a carefully controlled examination environment".

"The first time we actually do the counter spells will be at exam time?", she asked, incredulous.

"I repeat: if you study and understand the material, there should be no problem with passing any examination the Ministry sees fit to require of you".

"What use is that in the real world?", Ginny asked, fist in the air.

"This is school, not the real world, Miss Weasley".

"What about after graduation? What about what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting for you out there. Who do you imagine would want to attack a child, such as yourself?"

"Oh, I dunnow… How about…", Ginny paused in mock thoughtfulness, "...Lord Voldemort?"

There were gasps of shock; Neville fell out of his seat. One girl let out a yelp.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss Weasley", she didn't say it with the expected anger.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear here. You have heard that a certain dark lord has returned from the dead…"

"He wasn't exactly dead", Ginny said, "and I nearly died because of him. I believe he did return…"

"YouhavealreadycostyourHousetenpointsdoyouwanttoloseanymore?", Umbridge said in one breathe. She still managed to use that little girl voice despite the anger behind those words.

"You have been misinformed that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This. Is. A. Lie…"

"It's not a lie!", Ginny called out. "He damn near killed me two years ago! If…", she stopped herself before giving away the secret of Harry and Lucius.

"Thirty more points from Ravenclaw, and detention: 5:00 this evening, Miss Weasley. Up front, now", she ordered.

Umbridge took out a sheet of pink paper, dipped her quill, and wrote something Ginny couldn't see. She folded the paper and sealed it with her wand to prevent Ginny's reading it.

"You will take this to Mr. Flitwick", she said in that faux-pleasant voice that really meant "Look out!"

"Yes, Professor", Ginny turned to go.

After her departure: "The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in any danger from any dark wizards. If you're still worried about it, then by all means, feel free to see me after class hours and we'll discuss it. If anyone is frightening you with fibs about Dark Lords, then by all means, I want to hear about it. I'm here to help; I'm your friend. We've wasted enough time on this matter: back to "Basics for Beginners".

Ginny, on her way to see Flitwick, was accosted by Peeves.

"Little Gin-gin dunnit this time…
Gonna get some ass whoop…
Been reading any strange diaries lately?
Gonna let Voldie feed again?"

"Fuck off, Peeves".

"Some say Gin-gin's barking
Others say she's sad
But Peevesie knows she's quite, quite mad"

He didn't let up until she arrived at Flitwick's office. She knocked and was asked in.

"Ginny? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Got kicked out", she explained as she handed over Umbridge's letter.

"Sit down", he indicated a chair by his desk as he magiced open the note.

She was expecting the worst: another detention from another professor.

"Cookie and tea, Ginny", he said instead, as he pushed a tin towards her. He went to fetch a pot, cup and saucer

"I don't really…"

"I insist".

She took a ginger newt from the tin. He passed her a cup and saucer.

"What does it say?"

"That you talked back in class without raising your hand, sassed your professor, and disobeyed a directive to cease disrupting class, and that you have detention for the rest of the week.

"Ginny, I thought you at least had some common sense", Flitwick said in a disappointed voice.

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"Weren't you paying attention at the Feast? You know who she is? Who she works for?"

"But she called me a liar!"

"Then you should have let her. I am well aware of what happened to you during your first year, and who was responsible. However, you need to understand that there are those who have a vested interest in seeing that talk of Dark Lords isn't granted credence. Powerful players within the Ministry, as high up as the office of the Minister himself. These are not the people you want for enemies. You do not want to be pissing off Dolores Umbridge, Mr. Fudge's First Secretary. I fully understand why you were upset, why you got angry. I must insist: keep that anger under control from now on, and do nothing to upset Umbridge.

"Ginny, this isn't about truth. It's about politics. Sometimes, it is unfortunately necessary to not contradict the pleasant lie for an uncomfortable truth. The truth will out, sometimes not according to a time line that suits us".

"About the detention…"

"There is nothing I can do about your detention. As a Professor, Umbridge is well within her rights to assign detentions".

"Can't you contest it?"

"You can, but you would lose before the Board of Governors. Regardless of your feelings, the objective truth is that you did talk back; you did disrupt class. That is what the Board will see, and you'll just make it worse for yourself. Apologize, do your detention, and watch that temper from now on".

"Yes, Professor".

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Ginny had to rush through the evening feast to make it to Umbridge's office by 5:00. She knocked, and Umbridge answered.

"Do come in, my Dear", she said in that faux pleasant voice.

Ginny looked around the office, there were doilies everywhere, several vases of dried flowers, all on their own small tables. The walls decorated with these plates that looked very much like the collector plates sold to muggles. These being decorated with kittens. Unlike the muggle plates, these kittens never ceased with their mewling as they licked themselves, played with string, chased their tails. They were very annoying.

"I want you to go to that corner", she pointed to a vacant spot, "and take off your robe"

Ginny did as she was ordered. She was wearing civvies under the robe: jeans and a T.

"Go on", Umbridge said, "undress. Given your attitude, I think a little extra humiliation is in order".

Ginny figured that it would be best not to ask questions, considering what her Head of House advised.

Umbridge pointed to a small writing desk with a hard wood bench. "Sit", she ordered. Ginny was completely naked. There was a sheet of parchment and an unusual, black feathered quill with a very sharp point waiting.

"You will be doing lines for me", Umbridge explained. "You will write 'I must not tell lies'".

"You didn't give me any ink", Ginny complained.

"Oh, you won't be needing ink, My Dear", she said with a slight laugh.

Ginny picked up the quill, maybe a fountain pen, or some sort of self-inking quill?

"How many times, Professor?", Ginny asked.

"Until the message sinks in", Umbridge told her with that little girl voice with a hint of a smirk behind the honeyed words. She turned to the paper work at her desk.

Ginny put the quill to paper: "I must not tell lies", she wrote in shining, red ink. At the same time, she gasped as she saw the same words appear on the back of her hand as though carved with a scalpel. The words disappeared after a few seconds. It occurred to her that the red "ink" was her own blood.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?", Umbridge asked.

"Nothing, Professor", Ginny replied as she continued writing. The words appearing, then disappearing, leaving just a slight redness. Gradually, the cutting became worse, the words taking longer to clear up. She didn't know how long she'd been at it before Umbridge asked her to come to the desk.

"Hand", she ordered. Ginny held out her hand, the back showing a slight redness, the cutting sensation fading fast.

"So far, I'm not making much of an impression on you. We'll try again tomorrow evening".

"So how did detention go?", Parvati asked at breakfast.

"Peachy, just peachy", Ginny said.

"So what did she have you do?"

"Lines"

"That doesn't sound so bad. Could be worse, I suppose".

"Yeah", was all she said.

The next evening, Ginny presented herself at Umbridge's office.

"Undress", she ordered.

"You failed to apologize last session for your outburst in class when you insisted you know better than your teacher and the Ministry about how to teach class".

"I'm sorry, Professor".

"Too late for that now, I wouldn't believe you really meant it. We'll deal with that later. Get writing, 'I must not tell lies'"

This time, the redness appeared right away, the words she carved into her hand taking longer than ever to begin to clear up.

By the third session, the words weren't disappearing, and her hand began to ooze droplets of blood. She was becoming afraid she would be scarred for life, but who to turn to? Flitwick had already told her as much that there was nothing he could do. Professor Dumbledore couldn't dare go against the First Secretary, not the way Fudge suspected him of intrigue. After all, wasn't that the reason Umbridge was there in the first place? Why the Minister had the Wizengamot pass "emergency" legislation giving him the authority to fill vacancies on Hogwarts staff just before the start of the term?

"Draco", Ginny decided to confess, "is there anything you can do about this?", as she showed him the hand she'd been hiding. This was after breakfast, before Transfiguration.

"Howthehelldidthathappen?!", he asked, shocked.

"Umbridge has this special quill that she's been making me use to write lines".

"Why didn't you say something sooner?!"

"I… couldn't tell Flitwick, and Dumbledore can't do anything. I… didn't want her to know she got to me".

"That Weasley pride… it'll be the death of you. We're here to help, and there's no shame in asking. Especially about something like this. I'll ask Snape if he can do anything".

The first break, Draco took out his one time pad to encode a brief message. After that was done, he touched his wand to the sheet of numbers and it flashed to flame. He made his way to the owlery

"Take this to Owlery Holt", Draco said as he attached the note to the owl's leg.

That afternoon in Potions the whole class quieted as soon as they heard the door to Snape's adjoining office open.

"Settle down", he called out, though there was no reason for that. Snape didn't need to command attention.

"Today's lesson will be the Draught of Peace – a potion for calming anxiety and combating depression. Be warned: any overuse of certain ingredients will put the drinker into a comatose state, perhaps permanently. The instructions are on the board…"

He whipped out his wand, and the instructions appeared on the blank blackboard.

"… You'll find everything you need in the cupboard".

Another wave of his wand, and the cupboard doors opened.

Everyone formed a line to get the necessary ingredients for the potion. It was an especially fiddly potion, requiring the addition of the ingredients at specific times with stirring so many revolutions, first clockwise, then anticlockwise. Simmering for just the right number of minutes, under the right flame.

With ten minutes left to go: "Your cauldron should be giving off light, silver vapour", he said as he walked up and down the lab stations.

Ginny's cauldron was doing precisely that as Snape came to inspect: "See me after class", he said.

Everyone wondered why he would say that, as Ginny's potion was turning out the closest to right. No reason why she should be in any trouble with Snape.

"Clean up, and fill a flagon with your potion, clearly labeled with your name for testing. Your homework: I want twelve inches on parchment on the uses of moonstone in potion preparation. Your essays will be due on Thursday".

Others weren't faring so well. Neville's cauldron was filled with what looked like freshly mixed concrete which he was scraping out of his cauldron. Earnie MacMillan's was giving off green sparks. Greg Goyle's flagon cracked, the contents setting fire to his robes.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?", Ginny asked.

"Come here, Miss Weasley", he said as he poured out some light yellow liquid in a bowl. "Soak your hand in this".

She did so, and the throbbing in her right hand was relieved instantly.

"A solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles", Snape explained. "It should relieve the pain, and, with luck, we can prevent any permanent scarring".

"Thank you, Professor", she said it in a way that meant she couldn't believe he would ever care.

"I know most of my students think I'm some sort of ogre", Snape answered the unasked question. "I admit I am a most demanding teacher, but that does not mean I do not care about the well being of my students", he drawled. "In that spirit, I advise you to not get on Professor Umbridge's bad side again. You do excellent work and it would be a pity to lose you".

"Thank you for saying that. Professor Flitwick said the same thing", Ginny explained. She knew he was quite parsimonious with complements, either in or out of, class.

"I hope you were listening. Take the rest of the bottle with you and soak your hand after your detentions".

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

The next morning, an owl dropped a reply at Draco's place at the Slytherin table. It was numbers. At the afternoon break, he used the next page to decode it: "Meet me in the Come and Go Room, Friday with Ginny".

Owlery Holt

"What do you mean? Ginny tortured?", Harry asked.

"That's all Draco's message said. I shall investigate, see what this is all about".

"I never thought Dumbledore…"

"Harry, you need to understand that Dumbledore is no more in charge than you are. Ever since Fudge started his educational initiative, he – not Dumbledore – has been running Hogwarts. Dumbledore is just a figure head now".

"I can't believe Dumbledore would be a party to anything like this", Sirius agreed. "For all his faults, the one thing you can't fault him for is a lack of caring about his students".

"How is the second edition of A Tale of Two Toms coming along?", Lucius asked.

"Almost ready to go to press", Harry explained. "Got the latest edits from Hermione this morning".

"Susan and I are putting the final touches on the artwork", Sirius replied.

Hogwarts: Umbridge's Office

Ginny arrived for her final detention session, undressed, and wrote "I must not tell lies" until her hand bled.

Finally, Umbridge demanded: "Hand". Ginny held out her hand.

"Looks like the message as finally sunk in, Miss Weasley".

"Yes, Professor".

Ginny got up to get dressed.

"I haven't dismissed you yet, Miss Weasley", Umbridge said as she put a plain wood chair in the center of the room. Ginny wondered what this was about. Hadn't she done her lines?

"There's still the matter of your arrogant attitude, Dear. I expect a proper apology. If you would?" She motioned for Ginny to come forward.

Ginny stepped towards Umbridge, who took her, turned her to face the back of the chair.

"Bend over", Umbridge said.

Ginny bent over the back of the chair, hands flat on the seat. So she was getting her ass whipped, she figured that was the point of bending over: taughten her butt to increase the sensitivity. Bending over sculpted her butt cheeks into two silky smooth, symmetrical ovals.

"Have you ever been caned before, My Dear?"

"No, Professor".

"I believe you will find the cane a most effective attitude adjustment. I expect a proper apology for your arrogant attitude, Miss Weasley"

Umbridge had a rattan loop attached to a handle. With this, she lightly tapped Ginny's buttocks and the backs of her legs, while holding her down with a hand in the middle of her back. She gave a stroke that connected across Ginny's right butt cheek, leaving a pink semi-circle. She jerked, the swat began to sting.

"I'm sorry for my arrogant attitude", Ginny said.

A swish across the opposite butt cheek, a matching pink semicircle on the middle of her left butt cheek. Umbridge alternated butt cheeks with each stroke.

"I'm sorry for my arrogant attitude"

Ginny realized that Umbridge was taking her time, letting the sting rise before delivering the next one.

Whack… "I'm sorry for my arrogant attitude"

Whack… "I'm sorry for my arrogant attitude"

Ginny decided that it would be wise to let go of her Weasley pride.

Whack… "Iiiiii...'m sssssorry for my arrogant aaaaattitude", she sobbed as she ceased fighting the tears of both pain and humiliation.

Whack… "Iiiiii'm ssssorry ffffffor my arrrrrro-gant atttt-itude"

Whack… "Iiiiii'm ssssorry ffffffor my arrrrrro-gant atttt-itude… Ppppplease… Nnnno more…"

"I think a few more are in order, My Dear"

The pink semicircles had become angry red welts well placed so that she couldn't avoid sitting directly on them. Umbridge ran a hand over the welts, pleased to see bruising and redness.

"Stand up; turn around", Umbridge demanded.

Ginny stood, eyes down, hands rubbing her burning buttocks. She was still sobbing, tears running down her cheeks.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Professor", Ginny agreed, eyes not meeting Umbridge's.

"I expect you won't sit comfortably for most of the rest of the week".

"No… Professor"

Umbridge put her hand under Ginny's chin to lift her tear streaked face. Ginny hoped her eyes didn't betray any defiance.

"Apology accepted. I can see you're really sorry this time. Every time you sit down, let that be a reminder to not question my authority again. Is that understood?"

"Yes Professor".

"Get dressed and be on your way", she ordered.

Draco was waiting outside the office.

"Oh Draco…", she collapsed into his arms.

"Whatdidshedotoyou?!"

"It… it… She is a horrible, evil woman!"

He looked around. No one was watching.

"Come with me", he said as he led her by her uninjured hand.

"I need to see Lucius… I need to see Lucius… I need to see Lucius", he paced back and forth in front of the blank wall. The oak doors appeared.

"What…", Ginny started.

"The Come and Go Room", Draco explained. "Few know about it".

"Long time; no see", Lucius greeted. "Have a seat", he motioned to a chair in front of his desk.

"L… Lucius?", Ginny said. "I'd rather not..."

"Hello again, Ginny", he greeted, "Maybe, one of these days, we can meet under pleasant circumstances…. I can help, Ginny", he said. "Tell me what's been going on here".

Ginny told all about the detention, that Umbridge made her do her detentions in the nude, the bare-assed caning she'd just received.

"The bitch enjoyed every minute of it", Ginny said.

"I'll need to get some pictures", he said as he took out his digital camera. He photographed her raw, bleeding hand.

"If you'd drop your trousers"

Draco turned his back and Ginny gingerly slipped her jeans and panties off her welted butt. Lucius took more pictures.

"What can you do?', Ginny asked as she pulled her jeans up, carefully.

"She do this to anyone else?"

"Some Firsties"

"I'll need their names"

Ginny bent over the desk to write the names with a normie pen.

"The public at large needs to know. After that, it's up to them. I highly doubt that the parents of the rest of the students will approve".

"If Mum and Dad find out…"

"… They will be properly pist. If they can't light a fire under Dumbledore's ass to get that woman removed as far from Hogwarts as possible, no one can".

"I'll see you to Ravenclaw Tower", Draco offered.