I don't own Harry Potter, just this collection of stories.

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The Hell of Fourth Year.

In her house, Dolores Umbridge blustered as she went around her home, frequently checking on her own appearance as she prepared for another day of work at the Ministry. However, she wasn't looking forwards to it, but then again very few people were enjoying work at the Ministry. She supposed that she would be spending an entire day trying to stop the ICW from meddling in British affairs, and she knew while Cornelius had given her his support, he had also cautioned her to be careful.

The ICW's invasion of Britain was thorough and they were poking their noses into the affairs of their true betters, but there was nothing Cornelius could do about it since they had summoned him to their island Headquarters which had been magically constructed so it would be truly international without having any magical community favoured above others.

When the ICW was formed originally, they had wanted to establish their centre of government in a truly neutral place with no connection whatsoever to any magical country. The result was a magically constructed island, warded against muggles and unnoticeable and unplottable.

The ICW had been in Britain for a good couple of weeks before Cornelius was summoned while Umbridge hadn't been invited, despite her high rank in the Ministry. Cornelius had gone on his own, but he had been gone for a whole day and when he did return, Dolores knew the meeting hadn't gone the Minister's way. Cornelius had been on the verge of protesting at the harsh way the ICW had ridden roughshod over Britain, but when he had come back she had discovered in his hands was an impeachment form with a warning making it clear if the ICW investigation discovered anything in Cornelius' time as Minister which they did not like, then Britain would be forced to find a new Minister for Magic.

To make matters worse, Dolores had discovered she was not even being considered. The ICW letter had made that very clear, and they had added that a Minister for Magic's primary responsibility was to uphold the Statute of Secrecy and to have a clear head. Dolores hadn't bothered trying to reason out what they had meant, she had been too insulted while she had nursed her own ego by saying she was clear-headed.

However, if she had bothered to read the letter properly with some degree of thought, then she would have discovered the ICW hadn't liked the bigoted way that she had addressed the youngest Triwizard Champion, however that was probably just as well given how it would have only fuelled her desire to make sure Charlotte Potter paid the price for the way she had humiliated the Ministry in the aftermath of the Second Task. But in the ICW's collective view, Dolores Umbridge's bigotry would make her a terrible Minister, and if she did take power then the problems they were aware of in Britain could escalate until the barriers protecting them from the muggles was broken down completely.

Sure, the ICW was certain Umbridge wasn't that stupid, but the investigation team had sent back a number of reports about the Ministry, and given how Umbridge continued to try to interfere in the investigation and throwing her weight around, certain her title would protect her if she recited it often enough, the ICW was becoming more and more convinced if Dolores Umbridge did become Minister, then things in Magical Britain would become much worse.

After she had donned her pink cloak and wrapped it around her pink cardigan, Dolores examined herself in the mirror, nodding in delight at what she saw before walked through the kitchen to the back door. Once there, she flicked her wand at the garden door while she picked up her purse which was dimensionally transcendental like one of those travelling trunks, but contained her files and documents. She had been trying to cover up for Cornelius recently by taking away anything she believed would incriminate him, and there were dozens of documents and files about money being taken away from lesser and unimportant departments like the DMLE.

Once she was out of her house, Dolores sneered as she always did at the muggle neighbourhood that she could still see the tops of over the ivy-covered brick walls. Dolores, despite her dislike and hatred for muggles, mudbloods, blood traitors, and filthy halfbreeds, had actually chosen to live in a muggle neighbourhood because she liked to laud her presence on them. It amused her no end that she, a powerful witch, could live near muggles although she was frustrated they didn't know anything about her magical abilities; if they did, Dolores knew that she would be living like a queen while they cleaned her house like the filthy animals they were and tended to her garden, prepared her food and she would live lavishly, while they lived like peasants.

But, because of the ridiculous need for secrecy, Dolores couldn't live out her fantasies and if the ICW realised what she was doing then she would be hunted down and arrested before she could blink or even think of getting away.

Umbridge walked out of her house and stepped onto the patio outside, enjoying the early morning sun although she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the polluted air. If she needed any further proof muggles were disgusting, it was the way they polluted the air they needed to breathe. Did they not think about what they were doing? It was completely beyond her comprehension why some wizards didn't see what the muggles were like. With a sigh, Dolores flicked her wand and closed the door and set the passwords to her ward scheme before she walked to the centre of her garden, focusing on the Ministry as she did. She vanished with a pop as she disapparated, unaware that she was being watched the whole time.

For a long few moments, everything in the garden was silent and then there was a movement in the shadows of a flower bed next to a tree and a long and beautiful black cat emerged and padded silently over the grass towards the house. The cat stopped on the patio, staring up at the house with its single good green eye.

One moment there was a black cat there, and then suddenly there was a petite black haired girl wearing a purple t-shirt topped by a black leather jacket and dark trousers with trainers while there was a black backpack on her back. The girl had only one green eye, just like the cat.

Charlotte reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out her sunglasses and slipped them onto her face. She had spent the last few hours waiting patiently for Umbridge to leave her house so she could begin the burglary. Using her wand, Charlotte unlocked the house while at the same time inputting the passwords. When she walked inside, Charlotte slipped out her second wand, and she moved through the house, fully expecting Umbridge to have somehow noticed her previous break-in. She soon discovered that wasn't the case; Charlotte mentally wondered what was wrong with the collective intellect of the magical world but she was delighted with Umbridge's complacency since it meant she would hopefully be arrested, and after that, well Charlotte decided she didn't care nor did she know what would happen to Umbridge in the long term once it got out what she was doing.

Once she was in the room where the safe was, Charlotte quickly got to work. She very carefully studied the defences to see if there was anything else she had missed, anything new, but there wasn't. Once she was reassured about that little news, Charlotte began working slowly on opening the safe up. It took her ten minutes of work, given she was wondering if the Umbitch had some nasty hidden surprise waiting. But she was relieved when she found nothing waiting for her as she finally opened the safe and she smirked at the contents.

The safe was neatly arranged, with the account and address books stacked neatly on the left. The address books contained the names of the owners of the brothel owners Umbridge sold the kids to and the addresses of the brothels themselves. Charlotte could imagine the ICW taking a great deal of interest in that information alone, and there were also diaries of auctions where the unfortunate children were sold off, and times where they were meant to take place.

Charlotte took out the books and placed them into her backpack and then she turned her head, grimacing when she saw a large box she knew contained memories. Umbridge enjoyed visiting the shows where the muggles, muggle-born children were sold, and also when they were abused, and she also enjoyed selecting the best memories, and replaying them time and again in the Pensieve the odious bitch had in the safe as well.

But that wasn't the most ghastly thing in the safe; to the front of the right-hand corner of the safe was a large glass dildo. Charlotte closed her eyes, knowing what Umbridge did with that fucking thing, and she turned away, taking out of the safe the memories and putting them into the pack.

She knew there was more than enough evidence in the memories alone to sign the death warrants of not only Umbridge but others as well. The address books alone contained a lot of incriminating information about where some of the brothels were, many of which were likely to be secret and illegal, and they were bound to be frequented.

Charlotte closed her backpack and she closed the safe. She honestly didn't have a clue when Umbridge was going to come back if the ICW didn't move quickly, and if the toad bitch did come back while the ICW was going over the evidence, well she didn't want Umbridge to escape.

After securing the safe and walking out of the house, Charlotte reset the security of the house and then she walked away from the neighbourhood towards the nearest Tube station.

XXX

Charlotte was kicking herself now for forgetting about the early morning rush hour, but that was an occupational hazard for whenever you skipped London for a good few months, and you didn't often use the network in the intervening period. The Tube train she was on was packed tight and solid, but Charlotte was grateful she had cast a number of spells on her backpack to prevent it from being nicked or damaged. Charlotte was a Londoner (she'd discovered her birth certificate and learnt St. Mungo's hospital was in London), and she had spent a good chunk of her life in the city, and since she had used the Underground to pick people's pockets, she knew the risks.

Charlotte closed her eye as she remembered those times, remembering all the near misses where she'd nearly been caught.

"Hi," she felt somebody tug on her jacket sleeve and pull it, "why are wearing those sunglasses?"

Charlotte looked around at the sound the voice which had snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned and found a little dark-haired boy with a long face and high cheekbones, wearing a dark jacket over a brightly coloured 'Thomas the Tank Engine" t-shirt and little jeans standing at her feet. For a moment, she was stunned any small child would be bold enough to come up to her since it had never really happened to her before, so she didn't know how to react.

"Errr," she began, unsure of what to say while at the same time she recalled the dim memories of teachers (was it teaches?) saying "DO NOT TALK TO STRANGERS" to their students when she'd been young, and this kid looked much the same age she'd been when she had heard the repetitive but simple statement.

"Robert? Robert, where are you? Come back, I can't see you!" An urgent female voice called through the carriage.

"He's over here!" Charlotte raised her voice.

"What? Hold on!" A few minutes later a harried-looking woman with the boy's long face and high cheekbones, but far more developed, appeared. She glared down at the boy. "What have I told you, never get ahead of me, especially on the Tube!"

"But mommy-!" The boy pouted while Charlotte stiffened out of reflex; she remembered all the times she had tried, before she had known any better, to use the same technique with Petunia. Needless to say, she hadn't done it often, and it invariably got her injured. If this woman so much as touched or threatened the boy-

"No!" She scolded. "You do not run ahead! What if you'd fallen onto the tracks?"

"I only wanted to ask da lady," the boy turned his head to indicate Charlotte before turning back to his mother, "why she's wearing the sunglasses."

Robert's mother turned to Charlotte and noticing she was indeed wearing sunglasses turned back to the boy. "That's her choice, sweetie, now come and leave her alone. I'm so sorry," she added, looking up at the teenager.

"It's okay," Charlotte waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not bothered that much."

"So…why are you wearing da sunglasses?" Robert seemed to be taking her indifference to his curiosity as permission to ask the question again.

"Robert!" his mother scolded him, making him look sheepish.

But Charlotte got in quickly. "It's okay," she looked down solemnly at the little boy. "My eye was…..well, destroyed. So I've only got one left. The sunglasses protect what I've got left."

She looked up into the mother's own eye and she pulled down her sunglasses only a fraction to show her that she was telling the truth. The mother recoiled in horror when she took in the stitched over eyelids and the terrible scarring.

"My God!"

Little Robert was looking up between the two women curiously. "Mommy, what is it?"

Refusing to shatter the little boy's innocence, Charlotte nodded solemnly and she turned just as the sound of the carriage and the wheels it was travelling on rattled in the way to indicate the train was slowing down to stop at a station. She turned and looked at the name of the station as the train crawled to a stop.

"This is where I get off," she announced, inwardly grateful to getaway. However she had a message for the boy just as she was getting off the train. "See you around, kid. And take care, the world is not a nice place."

It might've been the wrong sort of message to give to a little kid, at least in the minds of the parents who wanted to coddle their kids, but for someone like Charlotte, the advice was probably the best advice she could ever give. Well, that and never trust anyone.

XXX

Charlotte walked through Diagon Alley, running a hand over her disguised features. She had used a powerful glamour charm which made her appear as a dark-skinned girl who was slightly older, and she had transfigured her clothes into dark purple coloured robes. At the same time she cast an illusion similar to the one she had used during the Yule Ball on those glasses so if someone looked at her, they would see two dark eyes. She headed into the Owl Post Office and she went to the back of the shop. She opened her backpack and quietly and quickly she thought of a cardboard box and she conjured one. Once the box was formed, Charlotte got up, took the box out of her bag and winced at the weight before she stood in line.

When she reached the counter, Charlotte had needed to reapply the glamour charm twice.

"Can I help you?" Charlotte stood at the counter and she smiled at the server.

"Yes, please. I'd like you to send this off. Urgently," Charlotte gently placed the box on the counter.

"Certainly, miss. Where do you want it sent?" The server asked, levitating it up with her wand and checking the weight.

"To the ICW in the Ministry of Magic." The moment it was out of her mouth, Charlotte more or less regretted it."

"The ICW?" The server's previously welcoming attitude had slipped, making Charlotte hope she wasn't dealing with one of those people who stuck their heads in their sand, collectively bleating their world was safe when in fact it was a mass of lies.

Charlotte nodded. "Yes," she replied, wondering how she could cover this without anyone going mad, but then she decided to take the law into her own hands. Silently she used her legilimency skills and she implanted the compulsion into the server's mind to drop the question, and just do as she was told. But at the same time…

There were moments like this where Charlotte honestly believed her magic made things too easy whereas in the past she had relied more on her wits, her brain, and her skills. When she had been on the streets, her ability to control her magic was practically nascent. But it was there, and it was because of the random ability she had of controlling them, she had been forced to rely more on her brain and her wits rather than using unlocking spells to constantly unlock doors.

Charlotte knew if she had been sending this package off to the ICW, then she wouldn't be sending it via public post. But she didn't know how the Ministry's post system worked, so this would have to do, and she wanted this done quickly without going all the way back to Hogwarts where she could just use one of the owls in the Owlery.

To make it worse, Charlotte knew she would have come up with a far better cover story.

Damn it, I really have become sloppy. I'm going to have to change that, she thought to herself while the server took her package, weighed it out and stamped on it with her wand.

"Seven galleons please," she announced as if nobody had manipulated her mind.

Charlotte counted out the gold coins. "Bit pricey," she commented as she passed the money.

"It's quite heavy even for a short distance drop," the server counted the cash and she put the coins into a till before waving her wand and a receipt appeared.

"Thank you, come again soon," the server passed her the receipt.

As she left the post office, dropping the receipt into her pocket, Charlotte walked back out of the Alley. She didn't slow down even as she waved her wand over the gateway, and back out of the Leaky Cauldron.

XXX

Mick Douglas hated Britain. He hated the cold chilly climate - yeah, the Brits might say whatever they'd bloody well like about the weather being warm, but as an Australian born and raised, thank you very much, but it was so bloody cold - but he hated just how old and archaic everything in Magical Britain appeared to be.

As an ICW inspector and inquisitor - sometimes Mick wondered who the fuck had not bothered to tell him this was not a job he would enjoy occasionally despite finding it satisfying from time to time - Mick had visited many magical countries, and he knew even with the country divides which were prevalent with muggles, but somehow he had always seemed to miss Britain. Many in the ICW were noticing that as well, and many were claiming Dumbledore was the main cause.

Mick was one of those people who believed Albus Dumbledore had been handed way too many positions that one person could handle. While the conniving old bugger had defeated Grindelwald and he had successfully prevented the insane dickhead from revealing the magical world to the muggles, and Mick would be forever grateful for that, he wished Dumbledore had let them come into this country frequently so then they wouldn't have this monumental mess to clean up.

The British were stupid. They honestly believed that blood purity nonsense which Mick had seen at different levels around the world, but this country could certainly give the MACUSA a run for its Galleons (granted, the Rappaport Laws had been a desperate attempt to prevent magic from being discovered, and that Twelvetrees' disaster had pointed out so many flaws in allowing muggles to view magic) when it came to bigotry, but America was different since the MACUSA were so determined to prevent another disaster like that from happening again, especially following that mess with Grindelwald who'd nearly revealed the truth to muggles despite their best efforts although if Newt Scamander hadn't used that mixture with his Thunderbird, the muggles would have discovered magic, if a Dark Lord tried to rise, they would put a stop to it instantly.

But the Brits…

Not only did they proudly talk of their heritage and looked down their nose at those they considered beneath them, they believed their family names meant something around the world. Mick and the other inquisitors and Aurors from various countries truly did not care how old somebody's family was, they didn't care how rich they were, and they were so tired with being threatened with retribution for their investigation, how their families would do this, how they would do that, and they'd used their stupid slurs against them. The good thing was many of those same people had been investigated thoroughly and were discovered to be beyond corrupt. It had been a pleasure to see them arrested, and even better there was nothing their stupid families could do about it.

Their Ministry was a mess. Not only was Fudge allowed to run around, cutting funding to various departments which were vital to the safety and the security of the British Magical Community (why didn't anyone here seem to understand the DMLE were vital for making sure rogue witches and wizards did not cause problems into the muggle world? On top of that Fudge's blustering about the DMLE not even being needed since 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' had been defeated was not a good excuse), but he was allowed to get away with it. Amelia Bones and some of the other department heads were good and all, but their hands were tied.

Ever since he and the others came here, Fudge and his chief enforcer had blustered and had tried to stop them - Fudge had been brought into the ICW and he'd been given the facts of life, and now the idiot was lying low. Unfortunately, that toad-faced idiot whom Mick had always discovered was a nasty piece of work just didn't get the message; she was so arrogant and so sure of being protected by Fudge she was blind to reality.

Mick had spent the last few weeks looking for something on her, and already he had a lot of evidence to arrest the bitch and make her see the depths of her mistakes.

"Hey," he looked up and he grinned when he saw Orla coming towards him, with two white steaming cups in her hands. He could see the steam rising gently and he could smell the scent of fresh coffee. "Hard at it?'

"You can say that again," Mick gratefully took the coffee, letting his medallion which was charmed to detect poisons and potions see if there was anything in it - it was a paranoid habit he had picked up although he had very nearly died because a nasty and rather stupid witch had tried to kill him, but he had managed to get away and cured before the poison took hold - and he took a sip when it turned up negative. He smacked his lips in delight at the rich taste. "How is it going for you?"

Orla grimaced. "Same as you. We're all getting so many leads, many of them lead to dead-ends, but most often we get something on someone or a nest of someones with skeletons in their closets."

Mick nodded but before he could say anything more an owl swooped in. Mick was instantly on his feet with his wand out, stunned and he watched as the owl dropped a wrapped brown package onto the desk he'd taken for the investigation. Once it had done its job, the owl flew out and out of sight.

"Owls," Mick grumbled. "Why the hell do the British use them?"

Orla was more interested in the package. She raised her own wand and was scanning the package. "There's definitely something magical in there, Mick. But nothing harmful."

Silently Mick raised his wand and he stripped the packaging off revealing a box containing what looked like memories and a collection of leather-bound books.

"What the hell?" Mick whispered while Orla ran her wand her over the collection but she found nothing on them, except for a hastily written note on a scrap of paper. "What does it say?" Mick asked as Orla bent over to read it.

"'From a concerned citizen,' that's it," Orla frowned in confusion.

"Helpful," Mick commented and he levitated the pensieve he had brought with him. He had learnt over the years in his job to always go over meetings which seemed bizarre, and use the pensieve to pick out what it was.

He took one of the memories and poured it into the bowl. Once the memory was swirling into the bowl, Mick tapped one of the runes on the side of the pensieve.

Half an hour later, Mick and Orla were both feeling sick and furious by what they had just witnessed. "That bitch!" Orla whispered in horror, shaking her head. "How could anyone do that?"

Mick was just as angry. "Get the others. They need to see this."

"Gladly."

XXX

With Amelia and Cornelius with her, Dolores walked through the Ministry's familiar corridors towards the office the ICW had adopted, puzzled. She had been in a meeting with Cornelius and Bones when the ICW rudely burst in and told them to come immediately to the ICW office. The filthy foreigners had dragged them out of the Minister's office and were marching them towards the ICW.

The door to the office was opened and they were roughly ushered in and Dolores was frozen in shock when she saw a memory being played out from a pensieve. The memory was showing two little boys, twins, being stripped naked while a group of familiar pureblooded wizards and witches laughed or cackled madly while the boys were forced to dance while crying their eyes out.

"What is the meaning of this?" Fudge whispered in horror.

"I would like to know that as well," Amelia, however, was glaring at Umbridge in suspicion.

Mick, however, walked in front of Umbridge while he handed Fudge and Bones a report that made Fudge instantly shake his head in denial. "Dolores Umbridge. You are hereby under arrest for illegal prostitution and auctioning of muggles and muggleborns. You will hand over your wand right now, and if you try to fight, it will be further proof of your guilt. You have the right to a defence, but anything you say could be used against you."

Umbridge shook her head. "I am the Senior Undersecretary-!"

Suddenly she screamed as she was thrown against a wall, and she was left stunned when she hit her head. Umbridge groaned and slid to the ground, shaken by what had just happened.

"Get the toad out of my sight," Mick glared at Fudge and inwardly grinned in delight at the arrogant little man's shock and horror. "Now do you see we're not to be pushed, Minister?" He asked, uttering the last word with the contempt it deserved before his voice hardened. "You'd better not have known about what she was doing, Minister. If you did, you can kiss your career goodbye."


I'm thinking of writing a Young Charlotte series, detailing the adventures and exploits of Charlotte after she'd killed the Dursleys. If you like this and if you've got any ideas for stories, be my guest to drop me suggestions. But please don't make them insane, and please use some logic when coming up with them; I don't want her flying on dragons as a kid or things like that.