An Unexpected Alliance

By: Minniequill

Author's notes: Whilst the Weasley Twins are inventive; I personally believe that they had a 'push' in a different direction in 'The Order of the Phoenix.' Their pranks certainly became more inventive and more complex. This is my take on what happened.

This story has been revised somewhat as I decided that Minerva has been OOC for some of the story and the timeline has also changed. The relationships between the characters have changed markedly as well. Hopefully, this isn't a bad thing. :D It's probably not as laugh-out-loud funny but that's really hard to continue and there was no possibility I could finish the story in its former vein. I only ask for forgiveness.

Now, as there was some confusion with dates I will post them at the end of each chapter. If you still have any questions, or just want to tell me that I've stuffed up a date, feel free to send me an email. I prefer to have the correct dates in this story so if you see a mistake, tell me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JKR can take credit.

Summary: Minerva McGonagall, the Weasley twins, Peeves, and a common hatred of Dolores Umbridge? Things do not bode well for Hogwarts' High Inquisitor

Dedication: Here's to you, Miss McGonagall. Jesus loves you more than you will know, woah woah woah...

Chapter One: The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

The faint scratching of quills against parchment was the only sound that could be heard in the Transfiguration classroom on that particular Wednesday morning. Minerva McGonagall glared out the window, her eyes focused on the squat, pink-cardiganed form that was Dolores Umbridge as she over-saw Wilhemina's Care of Magical Creatures lesson. The mere sight of the woman was enough to make her blood boil. Umbridge had placed her, Minerva McGonagall, on probation. Probation! Really, what was the wizarding world coming to?

She ground her teeth together, earning herself a few startled looks from her students, but a quick assurance that she was 'perfectly all right, thank you,' ensured that they quickly returned back to their assigned task. She clenched her jaw as she reached for the piece of pink parchment she had received that morning. Though she knew the words by heart, she read them again.

To Minerva McGonagall,

It is with great regret that I, the High Inquisitor, have placed you under probation for an indeterminate length of time. I hope that within this time-frame we will be able to form a mutually beneficial relationship for the good of Hogwarts and the wider wizarding community.

Yours sincerely,

Dolores Umbridge.

Minerva rolled her eyes as she scrunched the piece of parchment into a ball and threw it back onto her desk. She folded her arms and glanced out the window again. Umbridge was walking back toward the castle and by the 'spring' in her step, Minerva knew that Wilhelmina's inspection had gone well making it that much easier to sack Hagrid when he eventually returned. It was worrying, how long Hagrid had been away but Albus had assured her that he was well enough and would be back at Hogwarts soon. Still, she couldn't help but be concerned. She had known the half-giant for over 50 years and considered herself one of his good friends. Dolores Umbridge on the other hand considered him little more than an animal.

She closed her eyes for a moment. She could picture how Umbridge would treat Hagrid. Making him appear incompetent and foolish. And Hagrid would become flustered, stumbling over words and seeming foolish. It was silly, she thought, how frazzled Hagrid could get. He was by far the most capable person she knew to handle any-and-all creatures. She had seen him dress Bowtrunkle's wounds with a delicate touch that belied his overlarge hands, but had also seen him wrestle a rampaging Hippogriff to the ground without blinking an eye. If he could only learn to take a few deep breaths and calm himself down.

The bell rang at that moment, jolting Minerva back to the present, and the class made a mad scramble for the door using elbows and satchels to great effect.

"One moment," she called.

The class froze as one and hunched their shoulders as if expecting a blast of fire to erupt.

"A one-foot essay on the possible ramifications of inanimate to animate transfigurations."

There were none of the usual groans of protest and the class surged forward once more and escaped into the hallway. Now alone, Minerva looked once more at the screwed-up piece of parchment. Feeling herself becoming angry yet again, she grabbed the offending piece of paper and flung it into the fire, watching with amusement as it dissolved into ash.

On that note, lunch beckoned …

-o-

A hearty beef and gravy sandwich and cup of coffee later found Minerva back in her classroom waiting for her seventh-year class to arrive. Pomona had been in an equally foul mood when she'd arrived at lunch, having also been placed on probation, and the two had spent most of the break discussing how to make Umbridge's life that touch more difficult.

Her class began to trickle in as the bell rang and she waited for another thirty seconds for them to sit down and get themselves ready before she cleared her throat.

"We will be starting to conjure live animals today …" Her voice trailed off as Fred and George Weasley entered the room, heads bowed towards each other, lost in conversation. Silence fell, but the two didn't seem to notice. "Gentlemen!" Minerva barked.

Her words were spoken with such vehemence that her teeth clicked together, and the twins jumped and turned toward her.

"10 points from Gryffindor each. Sit down."

They obeyed instantly, no doubt realizing she wasn't in a charitable mood. Minerva allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction, before returning her attention to the rest of the class.

"As I was saying..." She glared at Fred and George who looked suitably contrite. "We will be starting to conjure live animals. By the end of this lesson, I would like everyone to have successfully conjured a rat. Twenty points to the person who does it first."

There was a flurry of movement as wands were withdrawn from bags, and the room was soon full of muttered incantations and muffled obscenities. Minerva rose to her feet and began to roam between the desks, correcting pronunciation and wand movements when there was a loud crack from behind her. She whirled around to find Fred and George embroiled in a cloud of dark smoke. They were coughing, and she waved her wand to clear the black cloud.

Two identical, white rats were sitting on the desks, both looking slightly confused. Their red-headed conjurers were beaming and Minerva allowed a small smile to cross over her face.

Really, it was moments like these that made teaching a wonderful career.

"Very good, boys. Forty points to Gryffindor."

Their eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. She rarely gave out any points let along forty in one hit. And she was willing to bet that she had never before given either Weasley twin so much as one point before. Dismissing that thought, Minerva turned on her heel and marched back to her desk.

Perhaps this day wouldn't turn out to be a complete disaster.

She frowned as she perused the homework she had taken from her fourth years earlier that morning. They couldn't hold her attention for very long, and she set them aside neatly and looked forward. The class was working smoothly, and there were now six more rats sitting on the desks. She looked back at Fred and George, and the corners of her mouth tightened. They had vanished their rats and were now absorbed by a piece of parchment they held between them. Minerva flicked her wand and said parchment flew toward her and into her outstretched hand. The twins' heads jerked upright in surprise and they exchanged a look of horror as she opened her desk drawer and slid the parchment inside.

Fred opened his mouth to protest but George kicked him in the shins and the two returned their attention to said task. Having conjured rats, they could now move on to kittens. Minerva reluctantly slid the fourth-year essays back to the centre of the desk.

They wouldn't mark themselves …

-o-

The twins lingered behind after the lesson had finished and stood before her desk, looking unsure.

"Professor," Fred said softly, "may we have our parchment back, please?"

Minerva glanced up from her marking and eyed them over the top of her spectacles. "Certainly not," she said crisply. "I will not have you passing notes in class."

"But-" George interjected.

"No, Weasley. Now leave before I take back those points you earned today."

The two glared at her and jutted their chins forward. Minerva raised one eyebrow, and her lip curled in amusement. The fact they thought they could intimidate her was laughable. They recognised that she wasn't to be placated and left the classroom slowly, shooting her a malevolent glare as they left.

Minerva withdrew the parchment as soon as their footsteps faded around the corner. She unfolded the paper, and a smile spread across her face as she began to read.

They were becoming more imaginative. She'd grant them that.

-o-

Minerva rested her feet on her coffee table and let out a sigh of exhaustion. It was one o'clock in the morning and she was tired. The toad woman (Pomona's nickname after the two had met again to grouse over their inspection results) had woken her up at six o'clock the previous morning for a 'staff meeting', placed her on probation and she had just returned from yet another midnight patrol.

Minerva's eyes fell on the parchment she had confiscated from the Weasley's and a smile flickered across her face.

If she helped them ...

She shook her head roughly. The idea was preposterous, ridiculous, ludicrous even, but maybe if she just gave them a push in the right direction... There was a loud 'bang' from outside her chambers, and Minerva hissed in annoyance as she leapt to her feet. She marched across the length of her rooms and opened the door, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the halls.

There was definitely someone there, of that she had no doubt.

She stepped out into the corridor, tying the sash of her peignoir tightly around her waist. Her tread was light as she padded down the hall, her eyes darting left-and-right as she searched for the reason for the noise. She rounded a corner and had to put a hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing.

Fred Weasley hung by one foot from a crystal chandelier. He glared at her, but the effect was ruined by his current predicament. Minerva stepped forward, and with a flick of her wand, Fred was standing upright. She raised an eyebrow in question and he looked down at the floor, his cheeks flaring a scarlet that clashed horribly with his hair.

"George and Lee," he muttered.

"I see."

He looked up at her and his eyes widened at the smile she was bestowing on him.

"Erm... Professor?" he queried.

She waved her hand, effectively silencing him, and gestured for him to walk alongside her. Fred hesitated for a brief moment but soon fell into step with her long strides. Neither spoke as they walked toward the Gryffindor Tower, though Fred kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, obviously still puzzled. They passed a statue of Edward the Edwardian Elf when he grabbed her arm and pushed her down.

"Mr. Weasley..." she began, struggling to escape from his tight grip.

He shook his head urgently, and she fell silent when she saw the barely restrained panic in his eyes. They were crouched for several more pregnant moments before Fred nodded that it was safe, and pulled her to her feet.

"Can you explain...?" she asked softly.

Fred shrugged his shoulders. "Umbridge. She caught George and me last week and..." His voice trailed off, and he shrugged again.

"And?" she pressed.

"It's nothing, Professor."

Minerva raised a sceptical eyebrow, but Fred still did not speak. "You do realise," she said eventually, "that because you were with me, she couldn't have punished you?"

Fred's eyes widened and colour flooded to his cheeks. "Sorry, Professor..." he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I ..."

Minerva caught a glimpse of a cut on the back of his hand as his sleeve fell down, and though Fred tried to jerk away, she reached out and pulled the material aside. Her eyes narrowed. "That conniving ..." she spat furiously, letting Fred's hand fall to his side, "I'm going to..."

Engraved on Fred's skin were the words 'I will not undermine the High Inquisitor.'

"We're paying Dolores a visit," she spat.

"No!"

Minerva glared up at him (a recent growth spurt meant he now topped her by a couple of inches, though it was doubtful he'd grow any taller) and folded her arms across her chest. "That's blatant abuse, Mr Weasley," she said angrily. "If you think I'm going to let her..."

Fred reached out and placed a hand over her mouth. "And how long do you think it will be before she writes a decree saying anyone that opposes her will be sacked?" he interrupted, not moving his hand. "We can't afford to lose you."

Minerva batted his hand away, but she took his words to heart. "Fine, Mr Weasley," she said finally, "we may not be able to get rid of her, but we can make her life hell."

Fred looked mildly apprehensive as she gestured for him to follow her, but when he saw the impatient look on her face, he soon hurried to her side.

"Where are we going?" he asked after several prolonged minutes of silence.

In answer, Minerva drew to a halt and opened the hidden door that led to her office and ushered Fred inside. The portrait guardian swung open without waiting for a password and she ushered Fred inside. He looked around apprehensively as she directed him to one of the chairs.

"Sit."

Fred obeyed and waited until she had sat opposite him before speaking.

"Professor …?"

Minerva pulled open her desk drawer and took out the piece of parchment she had confiscated earlier. Fred visibly swallowed as he recognised the parchment he and his twin had been working on.

"Erm … about that…" he began.

"The fireworks," she said softly. "Imagine how much more effective they'd be if every time someone hit them with a vanishing charm they multiplied by ten."

Fred's mouth dropped for a brief moment, but a smirk crossed his face as she leant back and crossed her legs. "You may have something there, Professor," he said, with a look that plainly spoke 'mischief.' "And stunning charms?"

"I'd say that was up to you, Mr Weasley," Minerva said, rising to her feet.

The red-head agreed as he echoed her movements and headed toward the office door to step out into the corridor, Minerva close behind. He glanced at her in surprise as she fell into stride with him.

"I can make it on my own," he said.

Minerva shook her head. "I'll walk you to the Common Room," she said, as they turned a corner.

"There's no need …"

Minerva glanced towards him as she raised an eyebrow and he fell silent. "If Dolores has taken a liking to mutilating my students, then I think I have a duty to ensure that she has as little chance as possible of being able to do just that, don't you?"

Fred shrugged his shoulders, perhaps too tired to argue as they continued towards Gryffindor Tower. The journey seemed to take less time than usual and they soon drew to a halt outside the portrait of the Fat Lady who looked from him, to Minerva and back again before sighing wearily.

"Password?" she asked.

"Devil's Snare," Fred answered.

The portrait swung open, but Fred hesitated before he stepped inside. "Thank you," he said finally, looking her in the eye. "For … uh ..." His voice trailed off, but Minerva nodded her head to show she understood the unfinished sentence.

"Goodnight, Mr Weasley," Minerva said, stepping back.

Fred gave one last grin before the portrait swung shut behind him and Minerva turned slowly and walked through the corridors, not to her office but to her chambers. Godric Gryffindor, her chamber guardian, looked at her sympathetically as she approached.

"It's one-thirty in the morning," he said. "And you have to be up …"

"At six, I know," Minerva said, waving a hand so the portrait swung open. "Don't remind me."

Godric shrugged his shoulders and the portrait closed, throwing the small hallway into darkness. Minerva flicked her wand, lighting various candelabras so she could see well enough to reach her living room where she flung herself onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling. She could well imagine the glee that Dolores felt as she watched a student, any student, writing lines using their own blood instead of ink. She knew that those she chose to punish would try not to let anything that indicated they were in pain show and she pictured them biting the inside of their cheeks, clenching the fist of the other hand, anything to stop sound spilling from their lips.

"Bloody hell," she whispered.

She sat upright and bent forward, pulling her boots from her feet and flinging them into the corner. She curled her toes and sat her feet on the coffee table, conjuring a mug of hot chocolate which she sipped slowly. The fire was lit with a flick of her wand and she sank deeper into the sofa, merely looking at the flames as her thoughts ran like a roller coaster through her mind; Dolores Umbridge, blood quills, the Ministry, Voldemort and, Harry Potter who would undoubtedly have received the same punishment as Fred.

She faltered; of course, it all came back to Harry Potter. The 'boy-who-lived', though she was sure the boy in Potter had died long ago. Sighing, she placed her now-empty mug on the coffee table and swivelled around, her legs now stretched out before her on the sofa. Reaching up, she pulled down the tartan blanket that resided on the back of the sofa and spread it across herself, finally allowing her head to rest against the cushion and her eyes to close.

-o-

Minerva groaned as the alarm went off, muttering a charm to give her an extra ten minutes. She rolled onto her front and buried her face into the pillow, not moving until the alarm sounded again. Swearing beneath her breath she reluctantly pulled the covers away and swung her legs over the edge of the sofa. She stayed there for several moments, resting her elbows against her knees, head cupped in her hands before the alarm sounded yet again. She staggered to her feet, picking up her wand, and with a sharp 'flick' the alarm had shattered into small pieces, spilling over the floor.

Now reasonably awake she moved through her bedroom, the kink her neck reminding her that it was a far better sleeping spot than the sofa and crossed into the adjoining bathroom. It was only when she had shed her clothes that she remembered the night before and she paused as she reached for the tap.

Fred Weasley, Dolores Umbridge and … what had happened exactly?

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered, leaning against the frame of the shower and looking down at the tiles.

What on earth had she been thinking? Surely, she must have been delirious and it was all a dream? A bizarre dream, but a dream nevertheless. Nodding to assure herself she turned the tap and stepped underneath the jetting hot water. Her muscles relaxed and she looked upward, drops pounding against her face. With the water came her memory and she faltered as she reached for the bar of soap.

No, Fred had been in her office the previous night, they had spoken about fireworks and she had suggested the idea to make them multiply by ten, but why?

The image of a recently healed cut, still red raw, surged forward and her fingers curled into a fist causing the soap to fall to the floor.

Dolores Umbridge. A blood quill. One of her Gryffindors.

The woman was lucky the Minerva hadn't sought her out and blown her into oblivion.

She shook herself thereby returning to the present and turned the tap off. She stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel firmly around her waist. Her long, black hair was restrained by another towel and she walked back into her room and summoned her teaching robes from the wardrobe in the corner. She dried her hair with a flick of her wand and began the lengthy process of restraining the long tresses into its customary tight bun. Finally, the last hairpin was in place and she slipped into her robes; summoning her boots which she had kicked off in the living room and pulling them onto her feet.

A fluent stream of curses flew from her mouth as she glanced at her watch and discovered she was running late; a rare occurrence indeed. She marched through her chambers and wrenched the door open, stirring Godric who glanced at her briefly before closing his eyes and going back to sleep. Her heeled boots clicked against the stone floors as she hurried through the corridors and students looked at her in alarm as she approached; often turning and hurrying in the direction they had come.

Finally, she reached the staff table and Albus looked upward and gave her a wary glance. She sat next to him and pulled a plate of porridge toward her, dousing it liberally in sugar and milk, much to Rolanda Hooch's disgust. The Flying Instructor opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a sickly sound Minerva was becoming more familiar with than she liked.

"Hem, hem."

Minerva closed her eyes and tried to ignore the stout woman who was standing at her shoulder but they snapped open again almost immediately.

"Hem, hem."

She looked to her left and raised an eyebrow at the High Inquisitor. "Can I help you, Dolores?" she asked, her hand curling around her spoon.

"I was just wondering if you'd read your inspection results?" Dolores asked, a simpering yet cruel smile playing at her lips.

"Oh, yes," Minerva answered in a syrupy voice that made the other members of staff do a double-take. "It made such interesting reading."

Pomona tried to suppress a snort but failed and Umbridge turned toward her, fixing the Herbology Professor with a glare.

"Did yours also make 'interesting reading'?" she demanded, jutting her chin forward.

Minerva's long-time friend glanced over Dolores's shoulder and winked, before turning her attention back to the shorter woman.

"No, I'm afraid not," Pomona answered. "Then again, Minerva and I have always had different tastes in reading material."

By now all members of staff (including if she wasn't mistaken, Severus who was amused by next-to-nothing) were trying to hide smiles behind their hands and Umbridge sniffed and looked forward, turning her attention to her breakfast, knowing that particular verbal battle was lost. Minerva nodded to herself. So long as Dolores Umbridge never got the upper-hand, which in Minerva or Pomona's presence was highly unlikely, then there would always be a way to bring her back down to earth, preferably in a fashion reminiscent of a meteor smashing into the ground.

-o-

"Wotcher, McG."

Minerva glanced up from her desk to find both Fred and George Weasley looking at her from the doorway; the former grinned at her, while the other looked mildly apprehensive. Not surprising really; she wasn't known for her high tolerance level of miscreants. Minerva leaned back in her chair and placed the quill she had been using to scribe the latest letter to the Ministry down and beckoned for them to come in. The red-heads bounded into her office and sat down when she pointed them toward the chairs opposite.

"Professor," Fred began immediately, "the only way that we could charm the fireworks to multiply by ten when hit with a certain array of spells is to use an 'infragilis' potion …" His sentence trailed off into mid-air, much to Minerva's surprise.

She nodded. "Yes, that sounds correct."

"Well, some of the ingredients are fairly lucrative …"

The Head of Gryffindor bit her lip as she read through the oblique lines that Fred was painting. She could not believe she was contemplating this; no, she definitely wasn't going to allow this; it was simply ridiculous; she was not going to do this; she simply couldn't do this; no, she was not going to do this; and yet...

"And you need to raid Professor Snape's private stores?" she said, ignoring the continuing reprimands in her mind.

Fred nodded, looking somewhat apprehensive. "Yeah... pretty much."

Minerva sighed and tapped her fingers against the desk, briefly assessing various options, before making a decision.

"All right," she said, holding her hands together and resting them atop her desk. "You need to get into Filch's office. Professor Snape has put a password on the door to his private stores, which Filch keeps in the top-right drawer of the filing cabinet closest to the door. Get the ingredients and then..."

"We've got a place to make the potion," Fred said hurriedly, "so don't worry about that, we just needed to know how to get into Snape's private stores."

"All right, that's settled-"

George cleared his throat (thankfully not a hem hem) thereby interrupting her, and she raised her eyebrows in question.

"There was one thing Fred didn't tell me, Professor," he said, his brown eyes boring into her grey. "Why are you helping us?"

Minerva eyed him for a moment; George Weasley was certainly a Gryffindor. Next-to-no student would ever presume to question her, especially with such brashness. George didn't bat an eyelid as she deliberated her answer.

"Dolores Umbridge stands for a government I have no faith in," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Her utter incompetence grates on my nerves and..." her voice trailed off as she sought for the right words. "… and I have never been one to suffer fools lightly," she said eventually. "And, I'm sure you'll agree, I have yet to meet a fool quite like Dolores Umbridge."

George eyed her shrewdly, before giving a sharp nod. "Makes sense."

"I'm glad you think so, Weasley," Minerva said brusquely, reaching for quill again, the dismissal clear. "And boys?" she added as they got to his feet and crossed the length of her office.

"Yes, Professor?" they asked simultaneously.

"This conversation never happened."

They both grinned.

"What conversation?"

-o-

REVISED: 30 JULY 2011

Dates: September 11 and 12

Author's notes: Please review; even a simple 'love it!' is wonderful.

Minniequill