AN: Aaah! *faints* Lurvely! More people enjoy this! Thanks to our many devoted reviewers-
*Will-and-Lyra-for-ever- (that book is awesome, by the way-the ending was so SAD, though…) VERY glad you like it-Rowling is evil, although she writes rather well.
*To RadiantRose327- well, well, well! Such a long review, we're flattered! I agree, I think that Sirius will return, but we just don't want to wait until the next book comes out. Regarding Harry, well, he does have a BIT of personality. And the teenage thing, you've got a point. We'll just have to agree to disagree about him, though. But you're definitely right-Sirius would have been majorly pissed if we'd done the dirty deed, which is one of our main reasons for refraining. Thanks SO much for the honor and worship! Lord, we'll have to be creating a new religion soon…hmm, that's an idea. *jots that down*
*Jowa-We're glad you like the concept! So do we! ^^ And, you're so flattering. Us? Hilarious? O.O
*Xtremefaller- Oh, God, We can't believe we forgot that. Harry has no luck with girls, you're right. We can't do any couples because there are so many different opinions…we'll work in some satire somewhere though, be sure of it. Because we luuuurve to make fun of Harry. ^^
*The Amazing Snorkack-Nice name. Luna is awesome. Glad you like our story so much! We would have liked to kill Harry, but then Sirius would be all upset, and then he wouldn't be his kewl self 'cause he'd be depressed! And Tonks isn't even in the Outside. However, do not fear. We will take care of the problem of the book/wizarding world connection. We didn't say that. We repeat, you did not hear that….
*Fenice-Yes, we ARE crazy! Thanks! Now we're innovative! Aaah, I can't get a swelled head over this. Yay, thank you, we're flattered again. So flattered we're flattened. *splat* Oops…by the way, Yilantri wishes she could understand more French to read your story…Yilantri: "aargh, I'll NEVER be fluent…."
*ScapeGirl: Yep! It's so SAAAD! We know, points are good. Anything to make happish-campers! ^_-
*PrincessEilonwy: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!! You reviewed every chapter, thanks for joining on to our little band! Fudge is to be pitied, so is most ignorance. By the way, Yilantri absolutely WORSHIPS your humor fics, especially 'Sirius on the Rum'. You're brilliant! *bows* Continue! Yilantri lurves your style! ^^
Well…not much to comment re: this chapter. Happy late 4th of July, everyone! Whaha…*evil grin* We scared the pants off the neighbors…
Disclaimer: This is breaking news from FanFiction.Net. We have just discovered that two of our authors do not own Harry Potter. More details later.
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Chapter Five: Dealing With Dolores
Asha paused in her typing.
"How, exactly, are we supposed to do this?" She inquired of Minuet.
"Well…" Minuet said slowly, finally thinking about the situation at hand. "We have to kill her off, that's a given. But how to kill her off so it seems natural…"
"We could write her getting killed by the centaurs."
"But that part's already published, so that won't work."
"Hm…" Minuet groped for a new idea…and came up with nothing. "I don't know."
Asha looked back at what she had typed:
Dolores Umbridge sat in her office, fuming. Her departure from Hogwarts had been completely unnecessary. That fool Cornelius Fudge should never have gotten rid of the position of High Inquisitor…
"You know, now that I think about it, why would Umbridge still want to be at Hogwarts?" Asha mused. "I mean, she did get attacked by centaurs there…"
"Good point." said Minuet. "I've got it. Budge over, let me type."
Asha got up and surrendered the chair to Minuet, who sat down and, with a big flourish, hit the backspace key. Soon, all the screen told her was,
Dolores Umbridge sat in her office,
"Okay." Minuet cracked her knuckles and set her fingers on the keyboard once more. "Here goes nothing."
--
Dolores Umbridge sat in her office, nervously awaiting what she knew would not be good news. Her reign at Hogwarts, it seemed, was not being looked kindly upon by the parents of the students who weren't in Slytherin. Many students had gone home, and told their guardians of detention with Umbridge. For the past week she had gotten at least thirty howlers everyday. And, as if that weren't enough, she was being charged and tried for disturbing a magical species in their natural habitat. She hadn't officially gotten the warning yet, as that was what she was waiting for, but Fudge had already told her. Fudge is a moron, she said to herself bitterly. He's the one who's to blame. He let this all happen. He's the reason I got attacked by centaurs, and am now being tried in court for having committed offenses in doing to. It's all his fault. She found it much easier to blame her woes on Fudge. It was somehow satisfying. But it still didn't ease the tension in her stomach.
A flying, folded memo tried to swoop into her office and immediately became a crumbled piece of paper lying just outside her door. Hurriedly, Umbridge threw it open and snatched up the paper airplane, unfolded it and scanned the few sentences.
Dolores Umbridge,
We regret to inform you that you are being accused of Disturbing a Protected Magical Species on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and of abusing your position of High Inquisitor. Your trial is to be held today, at 5:00 sharp, in the Department of Abuse, room 3204. We apologize for the short notice, but your trial needs to be held ASAP because of undisclosed reasons. If you do not show up, you are automatically convicted.
Sincerely,
Alathea Scarecrow, Department of Abuse
Umbridge stared at the paper, her stomach sinking and a misplaced rage building up inside her.
"Five o'clock?" She demanded of the air. "five o'clock? How the heck am I supposed to prepare a defense when my trial is only ten minutes away? I'll see about this…Ooh, I am going to kill fudge…five o'clock?" She could feel herself growing quite hot in the face, and she now knew what many authors of years past meant by 'seeing red'. Letting out a strangled screech, she tore the notice into as many small pieces as her chubby fingers could manage and threw them into the air. As they rained down like confetti, she stomped over to her desk and started rummaging for her wand. "Where is it, where is it!" she demanded of herself. She caught sight of one of her round-eyed kittens, watching her from it plate. It was quite obviously laughing.
"Stupid, bloody, arrogant little yank!" she screamed at it. It quickly tried to mask its giggles, but to no avail. Umbridge grabbed the plate and threw it against the wall on the far side of her office, where it shattered into thousands of tiny shards. She glared around at the other kittens, as though daring any of them to find this funny. They all quickly absorbed themselves in examining the borders on their dishes, and none looked her in the eye.
Having quite forgotten about her desperate search for her wand, Dolores Umbridge stormed out of her office, slamming the door behind her with such force that another kitten met it's doom as it's plate tumbled to the floor. Umbridge ignored the smashing noise, fuming all the way down the hall.
She impatiently stood in the lift, glaring at anyone who dared to look at her, shifting her considerable weight from foot to foot, angrily muttering curses on Fudge under her breath.
The doors opened on Fudge's floor and she stomped her way down the hall and pounded on his door with two large, fisted hands. Her pounding was ignored. After a few more strikes, she remembered that the door was sound proofed. The people inside couldn't even hear her.
She tried the knob; it was locked. Practically pulling out her hair, she let out another strangled noise that sounded somewhat like a mixture between agony and anger.
Breathlessly, she glared at her watch, in search of the time. She had seven minutes to get her defense ready. She reached for her wand, she never felt comfortable without it, and discovered that she didn't have it.
"Can my life get any worse?" she demanded of Fudge's locked door. Two lift rides, three more smashed plates and several swearwords later found Umbridge, smiling pleasantly, in the courtroom, trying to defend herself.
"Did you, Miss Umbridge," said her examiner, one Brodilla Sampsion, "Use a cutting quill during detention with your students?"
"No, I'm afraid that your information must be incorrect, Brodilla. And, if you please, I am a teacher. I expect to be referred to as Professor Umbridge, if you don't mind."
"Very well, then, Professor Umbridge, what do you call this?" A student from Hogwarts, a blonde third-year girl whose name Umbridge could not remember, stepped forward at Brodilla's summons and stretched out her hand. "Magnico!" A larger image of the back of the girl's hand appeared, floating just above it, and the white writing was plainly visible. I must impart important information.
Umbridge didn't know what to do for a second, and then, still smiling sweetly, said, "The girl would not tell me why her friends and she all came down with fevers at exactly the same time. Told me that it was Umbridge-itis, which is hardly acceptable. I was simply trying to make her see the errors of her tale-telling."
"Are you aware, Professor Umbridge, that the use of cutting quills is illegal?"
"Well, I'm sure that, given the situation, you can hardly find me in violation of the law." Brodilla leaned in close, so that her nose was barely an inch away from Umbridge's.
"I believe you will find, Dolores, that the law does not bend to allow teachers to punish their students illegally." She straightened up again, and turned away, facing the council of people who had been summoned to try Umbridge. "Let us proceed to the second bit of evidence against Professor Umbridge. You may go, Michaela." The blonde girl hurried back to her mother, on the far side of the room. "Dolores Umbridge is said to have granted Mr. Argus Filch, a Squib currently employed as the caretaker at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a document which gave him the ability to whip any student who disobeys the smallest rules. The proof." A small, stout man came forward, carrying a sheet of paper. Umbridge's stomach sank as she recognized it as her Approval for Whipping, which she knew bore her signature.
"Well…I…uh…" Umbridge stammered.
"That's what I thought." Brodilla replied coolly.
"Ah…that's fabricated evidence!" Umbridge sputtered, her voice growing steadily higher with each word, an incredible feat considering the girlish-pitch her voice normally retained. "I never signed such a document! It was…" She desperately searched around for a person to blame it on. "Forgery, by…Theodore Marshtrap!" She had no idea where the name had come from, but it sounded familiar. She'd heard it recently.
"Theodore Marshtrap," said Brodilla in a dry voice, "is the very wizard who verified the signature's authenticity. He's out Ministry expert at Verification Spells. Your excuse has no meaning, Professor Umbridge."
"Well…I was…tricked into signing that document!" shrieked Umbridge, growing rather hysterical. Some of the people on the jury were exchanging glances with each other, rolling their eyes and clearly unconvinced.
"This'll be the easiest decision this jury ever made," muttered a woman with wavy red hair, with some satisfaction. She was greeted by nods.
"You were tricked, Professor Umbridge?" Brodilla raised an eyebrow. "And may I inquire as to who it was that tricked you? Surely, it was not our well-esteemed Theodore Marshtrap?"
Umbridge worked her jaw for a moment, her head whirling in a frantic search of someone to blame her signature on. She failed to come up with a decent name, so went for the second best option.
"I don't know his name! He was wearing a mask!" she cried, getting to her feet in what she hoped looked like an act of desperation. "Do not condemn me for the trickery of an unknown villain!"
"Unknown villain, indeed." Brodilla stated disapprovingly. "Could this unknown villain have been, perhaps, your own greed for power? Or on an off chance, might it have been your grandmother, trying to punish you for stealing her cookies?" An appreciative laugh flittered from one jury member to another. Inevitably, this didn't sit too well with Umbridge. She felt her temper start to rage.
"DON'T YOU DARE LAUGH AT ME! DON'T YOU DARE INSULT ME, OR DISCREDIT ME! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I DID NOTHING! IT WAS ALL FUDGE'S FAULT! IT WAS HIS DOING! HE MADE THE DECREES! HE RAN THE INSPECTIONS! IT WASN'T ME! IT'S ENTIRELY HIS FAULT! HE'S THE ONE YOU OUGHT TO BE TRYING, NOT ME!"
Umbridge felt that she could have raged on all day, but she sensed that she was getting quite harsh glares from the members of the jury, and decided that it would probably be better for her to be shutting up right about that time.
"So it wasn't your grandmother after all, was it, Professor Umbridge? It was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself?"
Umbridge cursed herself. Now I'll never get off. She chose not to answer Brodilla's question. With a smirk, Brodilla turned back to her evidence. Several minutes later, Brodilla concluded the inspection of the first charge facing Umbridge. The trial was dismissed for a short break before they were to return to try Umbridge for her second charge: Disturbing a Protected Magical Species on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Umbridge, feeling down-trodden and quite disheveled, conjured herself a glass of water and smiled weakly at the jury members as each one passed with distain. She took a sip of the water, but a voice behind her caused her to choke and spit it out again.
"Hello Dolores, I heard you came to call at my office earlier today." She turned around, her face radiating the fury that had re-ignited so quickly, waving her wand dangerously close to the Minister's face.
"You," she spat.
"Me." he said pleasantly. "This is a spot of trouble you've got yourself in, now, isn't it?"
"It's all your fault, and you know it." She spat, as though she were speaking to a vile creature of some crude nature.
"My dear Dolores, I am afraid that I had little to do with the choices you made concerning the well-being of Hogwarts. I simply allowed you to do whatever it was that you pleased, and if what you pleased to do was, oh, slightly illegal, I wash myself of the matter. Good day to you, then. And I do hope that those folks from the American Ministry straighten you out, little though I may approve of them."
--
Minuet stopped her typing. Asha, who had been twisting a rubber band around her finger as tight at it would go from sheer boredom, looked at her quizzically, having noticed the pause in the constant tap-tappings caused by fingers on the keyboard.
"What is it?" Wordlessly, Minuet pointed to the screen. Asha looked over her shoulder and scanned Fudge's monologue.
"Those folks from the American Ministry?" Asha snapped, sending a look of disbelief at her counterpart. "Minuet, whatever the heck are you writing? You can't let Fudge know what we're up to. According to security code 018, characters aren't allowed to know that their lives are being controlled unless—" Minuet cut her off.
"I know that, Asha. I didn't break the code. The computer typed that line itself. I swear, by my honor, and by my sadly-deceased-but-soon-to-be-ressurected-sixth-cousin-once-removed, I didn't type that." Asha paused to consider this information.
"Hmm…well, that must have been the OOC spell that this computer is under. Mr. Fudge already knew about us. That means that someone must have told him." The two exchanged looks. "She didn't…"
"Sylph is gunna get it for this one…" Minuet muttered savagely, trying to hit the backspace key and finding it impossible. Still grumbling, she set her fingers back on the keyboard and continued typing.
Asha felt a slight twinge of pain, and noticed that the tip of her left index finger had turned an alarming shade of purple. Hurriedly, she pulled the rubber band off, and looked about for a safer toy to play with.
--
Smirking, Fudge left a gaping Dolores Umbridge to her fate.
The second half of the trial was somewhat of a repeat of the first, only the accusations were of a different sort. Umbridge had quite given up trying to defend herself by now, and instead elected to sit quietly, nod, and fume to herself angrily.
I nearly get killed by centaurs, she growls to herself, and here I am being tried for disturbing a magical species because of it! Ooh, if only I had my wand with me, I'd show these people disturbance. She looked longingly at her wand, which, for "safety purposes", had been placed on a table just out of her reach. Suddenly, she noticed that the person who was suppose to be there guarding it, well, wasn't. Fool! She gleefully cried to herself. Probably hopped off to the loo! She looked around to see who was watching her. Brodilla had her back turned, speaking to the jury, who all had their eyes locked on her. The few witnesses left in the room were all eagerly watching Brodilla deliver the final blow, to seal the case. No one was looking at Umbridge.
As quietly as she could, Umbridge scooted her chair forward. It made no noise, so she chanced scooting it a little further. Again, it didn't make a sound. Her wand was now almost within her reach. She started to scoot the last few inches, when a member of the jury noticed her and shouted, "Hey! What are you doing!"
Now or never, Umbridge ordered herself. She made a flying leap for her wand, hand outstretched, and managed to snatch it off the table before Brodilla got there. She also managed to smash her nose on the corner of the table, causing it to hurt horribly and spurt blood. But she didn't have time to worry about that now. Holding her wand aloft, she uttered the first spell she thought of.
"Crucio!" the spell hit Brodilla in her hip, and the witch collapsed to the floor is agony.
But before Umbridge had even managed to figure out which spell she had put on the poor woman, she was hit with seven various jinxes, all legal and all thrown by members of the jury. Umbridge, blood still pouring from her nose, hit the ground, unable to move her legs, her arms glued to her sides, her wand flying across the room in two separate pieces, and some strange sort of plant sprouting from her ears.
Still shaking, Brodilla stood up and looked down at Umbridge coolly.
"The use of a Unforgivable Curse, Umbridge, on top of your other charges, is enough to earn you a Dementor's Kiss. However, as the Dementors have left us for the dark side, we'll just have to think of something else." She turned to the jury members. "You may all go into the adjoining room, and discuss proper punishment for Dolores Jane Umbridge."
As the jury members filed out, a short, plumb wizard hurried forward and fixed up Umbridge, stopping her nosebleed and enabling her to stand up again. He didn't seem to feel inclined, however, to allow her to move her arms, or to remove the plant that had now rooted itself quite firmly in her ear canal. It didn't take the jury long to come to a conclusion. One of the jury members handed Brodilla a piece of parchment, which Brodilla opened with a flourish, clearing her throat to read.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge, this jury has found you guilty of all charges against you, including the use of an Unforgivable Curse. Under normal circumstances, you would be sentenced to the punishment of the Dementor's Kiss. However, since such a punishment is not practical at this point in time, you have been sentenced to banishment from the wizarding community." Umbridge let out a disbelieving squeak. "Your memory will be wiped of all things magical, and you will serve as a telemarketer in the Muggle world. Kindly proceed to the Ministry exit, where your memory will be wiped."
Umbridge's arm was grabbed rather roughly and she was dragged away from the jury and out of the room. She kept opening and closing her mouth, as though trying to catch a fly or some other, equally undignified insect.
She never got a look at the person who was leading her to the familiar lift that would take her to the phone booth that lead into the ministry. The person who was taking her there muttered a few spells under his breath, and she found herself able to move her arms, although she left them limp at her sides, and the plant gone from it's home in her ear. The two passed through to the phone booth, where Umbridge heard her last spell.
"Mojra Obliviate!" she barely managed to register that this was a high-powered memory charm, which was meant to re-write someone's entire life in their memory.
"I believe this is the street you were looking for, Miss Robinson?" asked the stranger. Umbridge smiled happily at him.
"Yes, thank you ever so much. I must be more careful when traveling around London. It is so easy to get lost, you know."
"Yes, well, nice meeting you, Miss Robinson." Umbridge smiled sweetly.
"Please, do call me Mary Sue. Miss Robinson sounds so stuffy." Smiling again, she happily skipped off down the street, blissfully unaware that there was a thing even resembling the magical world.
After all, Mary Sue Robinson wasn't a witch.
--
"Mary Sue?" Asha questioned, her face starting to turn somewhat red from trying not to laugh. "Mary Sue? Why Mary Sue?" Minuet grinned.
"It's an Outside term. It's a character that you use in a fan fiction, who is paired up with a character that you feel sorry for because they don't have anyone to be romantically involved with." Asha stared at her co-worker for a moment, trying to work out whether or not she was telling the truth. "Honestly." Minuet added. Asha instantly doubled over with laughter, and Minuet joined her. After a few minutes of hysterics, during which Minuet fell out of her chair and Asha knocked over the trash, they managed to calm down. Asha pulled herself into the chair in front of the computer, grabbed the mouse and clicked on the save icon. The screen vibrated slightly and the computer saved the new data, and then stopped. Asha pulled a list out of her pocket and put a check next to the name Dolores Umbridge.
"Ooh, look who our next victim is." Asha said gleefully to Minuet, holding the list out.
"We can avenge my cousin's 'death'!" Minuet cried, still slightly giddy from all of the laughing.
"But you'll still be short a cousin," Asha answered, rolling her eyes at her giggling friend. She looked at the next name on the list in satisfaction. The offender had violated both the evil limit, and the angst limit, having caused the death of a character with an exceedingly high angst level. You're gunna get what you've got coming, Bellatrix Lestrange, she thought to herself, smirking slightly. Oh, yes you are. If only I was there to see it. She resisted the urge to cackle evilly. This should be fun…
With Minuet still giggling in the background, which Asha knew would take about five more minutes to calm down, because of Minuet's inability to stop laughing on command, Asha set her fingers on the keyboard.
--
Moo Straberry: Okay, hope you guys liked that. Sorry it took me so long to write. Yilantri isn't happy with me at all for taking so long. However, here it is. R&R, and ideas are appreciated!
Yilantri: Damn straight. ^_^ Read, review, live long and prosper!