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For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1
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19 – Classes, Week Twenty-two, Second Year
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Sunday, January 23, 2000:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin table: 08:09
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"G'morning," Arthur said as he took a seat. "Feeling better, Mattie?"
"Peachy. A few minutes of the Cruciatus from an incompetent wizard is so much fun," she deadpanned. "Speaking of whom, how's your other Defense class?"
"First tests for white belt are on the 31st," he replied. On seeing her expression he added, "Mattie, someone has to keep an eye on the Leftenant," Arthur said. She regarded him over her coffee cup for ten endless seconds; then said, "Okay. Let me know if you need help."
Arthur nodded, "How's your Aunt Lois?"
"'Pissed off' covers it pretty well," she replied. "She went ballistic when she saw Fudge casting Cruciatus on me, she's trying to..."
"One moment," Amanda said. "What do you mean 'she saw' Fudge casting an Unforgivable on you? She was unconscious; I saw them float her out."
"The miracles of modern technology, my friend," Mattie smirked. "We recorded the full sound and fury of that little fight. The problem now is how to show it to the wizarding public. You've never seen TV."
"No, but I have," Charlie said.
Mattie nodded. "Let me get my laptop."
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"We've got several different video streams to put into a coherent whole to tell the story," Charlie explained. "We want to give the appearance of fairness, while making Fudge look like his usual self."
"Bravo!" Mattie said with a grin. "Want me to arrange a job with the Beeb?"
Charlie flashed a crooked grin, "Maybe in a few years. Now then," he checked Mattie's scribbled list of camera positions, "We have camera one that looks over your aunt's right shoulder. Oh, Mattie, did you loan her your Ring?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, but I've got it back now."
"All right, we want to edit out the bit where she's playing with the Ring." Charlie tapped keys; then said, "Camera three caught a very nice bit of Fudge and his goons entering," more tapping of keys, "and then the destruction of your aunt's recorder and the start of the interview."
"Ah, so this is where you were Friday afternoon, Miss Wayne," Professor Flitwick said from behind her. "Might I have a moment?"
"Certainly, sir. Excuse me, everyone," as she walked down the length of the table to an empty area and straddled the bench. The tiny professor sat on the table next to her, casting a strong privacy spell, then clearing his throat nervously. "Well, now. I'm not quite sure how to proceed on this. First of all, I would like to extend my apologies to you for my behavior two weeks ago Friday. My behavior was not professional at all, and I could see I hurt you deeply."
Mattie took one of his hands, "I would have been frightened of me. I'm still disgusted with myself for that loss of control."
"I think a momentary loss of control is to be expected of all of us at some point in our lives."
"Perhaps for others, but not for me, not for my Clan."
"Perfect control, every hour of every day?" he snorted gently. "That's superhuman, which, by the by, does bring me to my next topic." He cleared his throat, hemmed and hawed a bit, then said, "Oh, drat it! Last week, I was on my way back from the loo when I saw your Uncle Clark flying! Without magic, or any sort of muggle device. Please explain it, because I can only come up with one answer, which is ... impossible!"
She moved to sit next to him, looked him in the eye, and whispered, "Nothing's impossible." She smiled gently, adding, "Talk to Professor Snape for a wizard's view of my family."
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Sunday, January 23, 2000:
Hogwarts, Potion Master's office: 09:19
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Filius Flitwick knocked on the statue, praying that Severus would be in. The statue rotated aside, Severus motioning him inside. He joined Pomona Sprout, who was, oddly enough for her, pacing, a glass of fire whiskey in hand. She took a gulp, glancing at Filius, who said, "I'll have one of those." Severus poured; then refilled it as Filius gunned it down. With a tiny smile, he said, "While I am as accommodating as the next, might I inquire the reason you are drinking my whiskey?"
"Mr. Kent!" "Miss Wayne!"
"Ah," Severus said as he stood. He pushed the bottle an inch, saying, "Feel free. I shall return in a moment."
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He returned, laying several thick files on his desk, and removing his wand. With several muttered incantations, and drops of blood scattered at different locations, he raised several additional, powerful wards. Filius' eyebrows were climbing into his hairline, when Severus activated a muggle device that emitted an odd buzzing, Pomona said, "What's all this about?"
"I do not think the Wayne Clan have managed to plant listening devices in here, however, they and their intelligence collection are simply too good to ignore the possibility," Severus said. "As they have partnered with the Weasleys, I estimate my best efforts at a forty percent success rate. The smallest devices I myself have seen them use are the size of a pinhead. I feel confident that is not the limits of their technology."
"You do not trust Miss Wayne?" Filius asked, downing another glass of whiskey.
"On the contrary, I do. I will also inform her of this conversation, for several reasons. One of which is, she is a Slytherin, another is that her Clan ... un-nerves me on a level Voldemort never did." He rubbed his left arm absently as he glanced at Pomona, who sat on the edge of a chair, glass of whiskey in hand. "You had a question about Mr. Kent?"
She took a gulp, then said, "When Minerva and I went to Azkaban to rescue Ms. Lane, he simply picked us up and ... flew! Without a broom, or any sort of ... of muggle device! How? How did he do that?"
"Mr. Kent is also known by another name," Severus said, extracting a file and handing it over. "That of 'Superman.' I spoke to him last year when we were extracting the Quidditch teams from Malfoy Manor; he informed me that unfortunately, Miss Wayne did not share his most remarkable abilities. She is, as he phrased it, 'One-hundred percent Earth Human'. Still, she is a most remarkable person."
"She is," Filius said. "Miss Wayne told me, 'Nothing's impossible.', and I tend to believe her."
"Coming from her home town, it is understandable," Severus said, leaning back in his chair. "Mr. Morton has visited Gotham, as have the Cortez twins and Miss Tonks. They went on an escorted tour with the Waynes, while Potter and his wife went on an unscheduled bimble. The barbarians in that town were going to eat the Potter babes after blowing Ginevra's head apart." (Both Pomona and Filius gulped their remaining whiskey.) Severus levitated the bottle, adding, "They would not be alive today without Gotham's infamous protector." He extracted another file, passing it to Filius. There was silence in the room, aside from the gurgle of whiskey.
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"So what of the Leftenant?" Pomona asked.
"The Leftenant is a fool. Admittedly, the idea was good, to permit our students to defend themselves without magic," Severus said. "However, the implementation was flawed. If you are learning to fight, learn from someone who knows."
"Miss Wayne..."
"If Miss Wayne wanted the Leftenant, or indeed anyone dead, they would be," Severus said. "Quickly, efficiently, and without trace to them."
"What about Edward Hansen's murder, then?"
"I have no doubt Miss Wayne and her clan knows who did it, and could prove it in an honest court. I am also without doubt that they did NOT do it." Severus steepled his fingers, "I offer two pieces of evidence in support. The first, Miss Wayne's guard in Azkaban is still alive, despite his attempted rape of her. Were she my daughter, he would not be. Secondly, Cornelius Fudge is still alive."
"The Minister?"
"The Minister has lost his conflict with the Wayne Clan; he simply does not accept it yet. Miss Wayne's... disagreement with Fudge is personal, unlike that with Umbridge, which was not. She also has powerful allies in the Goblins." Severus smiled, "I foresee Cornelius Fudge and his ministry broken and destitute within three months, six at the outside."
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Monday, January 24, 2000:
London, Ministry of Magic, Minister's outer office: 07:04
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"Good morning, Minister!" Mary Sue, the Minister's personal secretary chirped.
"Hrm," he mumbled, waving his wand to unlock his office. She sniffed, and turned to fix his tea, when he screamed in rage. Moving as quickly as possible on the uncomfortable, ridiculous muggle heels he wanted her to wear, she stopped in the doorway, asking, "Minister?"
"P... Pimpernel!" he managed to choke out. "The Pimpernel was here!" He plucked a red flower from his desk, waving it before crushing it in his fist. He screamed in rage again, sweeping the folders from his desk. She winced; she would have to be the one to set them all to rights.
'Time to go to work, dearie,' she told herself, silently blessing her mate in Central Records who had changed her Hogwarts records from Slytherin to Hufflepuff. Personally, she hated her blonde hair and enhanced bust, but 'Do what you need to,' she reminded herself. "Oh, Minister, it will be all right!" she cooed, putting a little more hip into her movement to him. 'Men are so predictable.' Hugging him, she made sure to trap his arm between her breasts, right where he could grope her. 'Uggh,' she complained to herself, while finding the Minister responding as always. She whispered to him, "It's not Wednesday, but maybe..."
"Yes, maybe..." Minister Fudge replied. "Perhaps a bit of the 'Naughty Schoolgirl and the Headmaster' later?" She shuddered, turning it into a shiver of delight. 'I pity Wayne if she's ever caught by this pervert,' she thought, adding for the Minister's benefit, "I don't have that outfit with me," running her finger along his jaw. "I'd have to go home and change at noon. Can I have a long lunch, Minister?"
"I don't see why not," he said, turning so his hands could maul her arse. He forced his mouth on hers; then she slapped his chest, telling him, "Go get your tea, Minister. It's on my desk, and then see how Minister Umbridge's day is whilst I clean this up." She slapped his chest again gently, saying, "You've given me a good bit more work, now shoo!"
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Monday, January 24, 2000:
London, Ministry of Magic, Minister's outer office: 14:39
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"Ooh, Headma... I mean, Minister, how do I look?" Mary Sue asked, tossing her heavy outer robes over her (wobbly) visitor's chair and pirouetting in her approximation of a Hogwarts uniform. The tiny grey pleated skirt flared, exposing the tops of her white stockings and garters, while the top of her bust showed in her unbuttoned blouse. 'At least I can wear more sensible shoes, instead of those dratted heels,' she thought.
"You've got a bit of soot from the floo," the Minister said, 'cleaning' her blouse. "You're out of uniform, too! Ten points from Hufflepuff for not wearing your tie, and a detention for wearing the wrong shoes!" He pointed to a box on her desk, adding, "Now change this instant, young lady! You'll serve your detention tonight!"
"Yes, Headmaster," she said demurely, putting the portrait of the Minister's wife face down on the table as she frowned. As she slipped out of her oh-so-comfortable flats and into the... she opened the box. 'More bloody heels!'
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Tuesday, January 25, 2000:
Hogwarts, Hufflepuff table: 07:44
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"Post's here!" someone called, and the usual flock of owls (and bats) flew into the Great Hall. One particular owl circled the Hufflepuff table, landing in front of Charlie Adams. He blinked in surprise, thanked the owl, and unrolled the message to find a copy of the Reporter and a note.
Mr. Adams:
I understand you edited the video of my abduction by Minister Fudge from Hogwarts, and passed it on to me. I appreciate that, and I am enclosing a courtesy copy of the Reporter so you might see your name in print (page A-5).
If you are interested in a summer job with the paper, please e-mail or owl me.
Lois Lane
Managing Editor
The Wizarding Reporter
llane AT wizard co uk
"What's the matter, mate?" Eleanor asked. Charlie handed her the note, unfolding the paper. Arthur leaned over and whistled, "It's a whole transcript, including pictures! Look, your name's on it, too!" pointing at the byline.
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Tuesday, January 25, 2000:
Hogwarts, Hufflepuff first-year girls' dorm: 20:55
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Daphne was brushing her teeth when 'Nicole at Night' finished up. She ran into the dorm when she heard 'Hufflepuff', mumbling "Turgn ig up!" through a mouthful of toothpaste.
"... and finally, the last of five reasons that Minister Fudge is incompetent. I've read this entire list, discussed his kidnapping of Ms. Lane, and he still hasn't arrested me! Want my floo address, Minister?" Nicole chuckled, "I'm Nicole Sanchez, and this is Nicole at Night, signing off tonight's Wizarding Wireless!"
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Friday, January 28, 2000:
Hogwarts, Charms class: 09:02
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Professor Flitwick looked up from the roll, "Mr. Adams, I understand you've gotten the journalism bug. Jolly good, I say. I understand Ms. Lane has offered you a summer job."
"Yes, sir, but I don't know..."
"Well, I suggest you discuss it with your father, and give it a go for the summer. If it doesn't work out, then you're none the worse for the experience. Now then, both of the Cortez ladies are here, and... "
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Friday, January 28, 2000:
Hogwarts, Infirmary: 13:19
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The smirking student left, closing the door behind her, and Narcissa put her face in her hands. Draco materialized behind her, placing a cool hand on her shoulder, asking, "What's wrong, Mother?"
"Oh, Draco! You gave me a bit of a start, there," she sighed. "I can't talk about it, I'm sorry."
"Ah, one of Father's spells, I presume?" She nodded; then as her son's ghost drifted over her desk, she slapped her forehead, "I am SUCH a dunderhead! How did I ever get into Slytherin?" Turning to her computer, she called up a blank document, and began to type.
Draco:
I am under a geis that prohibits me from talking or writing about this. However, it says nothing about typing it on a keyboard, because when he cast it on me in 1995, we knew nothing about these things.
Draco nodded, and she continued:
The student that just left is your father under a disguise charm and a glamour spell. I've nicknamed her 'Lucille Malfoy'. She cast 'Imperio' on me; I've sabotaged the school's normal re-supply order of candles to her specification. I don't know what her actual plan is, but I presume that it has to do with the resurrection of the Dark Lord.
Narcissa rolled her eyes, Draco smirked as she continued:
What she wanted now was samples from the Potter boy's hair and blood. I didn't have any choice but to provide them to her. I don't know what she's planning, but please warn Harry! I believe he's in his office with the twins. After Severus gets out of class, could you tell him what I've typed out?
"Of course, Mother. I'll leave straightaway."
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Friday, January 28, 2000:
Hogsmeade: 13:41
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Lucille Malfoy cast an invisibility spell on herself after passing through Hogwart's wards. As she strolled down the High Street, she peered in the window of the Weasley shop, and cast a silencing charm on the door, and a notice-me-not spell on herself.
"Lee must have left the door open," Ian muttered to himself as he closed it, returning to dusting the shelves.
Ginny sat in the back room, updating the shop's books on their new computer. She looked up to see a smirking first-year with her wand aimed. "Now then, Mrs. Potter, we're going to have a brief chat. 'Imperio!' "
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Ginny struggled not to talk, but it was so much easier to answer the questions. Perfectly reasonable, really. "I don't know precisely where Harry's put you-know-who's body, or the dagger containing his soul. I think they're in Gringott's vaults, but I don't know the branches, or the vault numbers. Harry wrote them down; he gave it to Dobby in case something happened to him."
"Bother," Lucille drawled. "What else is interesting?"
'Such a silly question', Ginny thought. "I'm the Pimpernel's spymaster. I collate the information; then pass it on to the Pimpernel."
Lucille sat up, "Who are some of the spies?"
"Mary Sue Dibney, the Minister's secretary, has been passing information to us for a while," Ginny said dreamily. "She was the one that passed on the Minister's schedule for his Diagon Alley misadventure." She snorted, "A gust of wind saved Fudge's life. My bullet..." Ian barged into the back room, "We're out of blood pops again, Ginny." He looked up, "Who're you?"
"Your enemy, blood traitor. 'Stupify'!" Malfoy snarled before making her escape.
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Friday, January 28, 2000:
London, Ministry of Magic: 16:50
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Malfoy pasted a smile on her face as she walked the halls of the Ministry. 'Fools!' she thought. 'If I allow any to live after I have raised the Dark Lord again...' Rebuffing the hundredth seeming benefactor with a polite, "No, thank you, ma'am, I'm fine," she cursed Nott on the way to the Minister's office. 'He did his job too well with this disguise...'
Sauntering past Mary Sue's desk, Lucille strolled into Fudge's office. The blonde secretary chased after her, but Fudge waved her off, telling her, "This is one of my informants at Hogwarts." He flicked his wand to close and seal the door, and with a smile, said, "This is an unexpected benefit. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Malfoy shook her head as she smoothed her skirt to sit, "Not even the social niceties, Cornelius? Flitwick must have skipped that at Hogwarts. At least in Slytherin we learned to offer a cuppa before we slit throats."
"Ah, but you're not a Slytherin now, are you, Miss Malfoy?" Fudge smirked. "How are you enjoying life under Minerva's thumb?" He nodded to the Gryffindor tie and patch the girl wore on her school jumper. Waving his hand, he asked, "What do you have for me?"
"I've uncovered your spy ring for you," Malfoy said. "Really, don't you check your staff?" Fudge sat up, "...including the spymaster, who is incidentally the same person who tried to kill you."
"Edward never mentioned any of this..." Fudge breathed.
"Oh, really? Who's been receiving his mail since his untimely death?"
"Weasley, of course," the Minister said. "Since I've only him and Dolores I trust, beside you, I haven't many options. We must destroy Wayne, Potter and Dumbledore before they bring down my Ministry. Why, who knows what might happen?"
'Someone competent is elected?' Malfoy thought, while she nodded sympathetically. "And where is Weasley?" she asked.
"I sent him to Germany to recover some vampire gold," the Minister said. "He's been having a spot of difficulty with them, according to his owls."
"You can recall him," Lucille said, levitating a transfer receipt. "That gold should keep you going for another few months."
"I'll send him an owl tonight," the Minister promised. "Now, who are the spies? Who has betrayed me?" He leaned forward, catching up a quill.
"I'll give you one now, we'll see how you do with her arrest and interrogation," the young girl said with a faint smile. "Your blonde secretary isn't as stupid as she looks. She's reporting to the Pimpernel."
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Friday, January 28, 2000:
West London, Shepherd's Bush: 18:35
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The door to the inexpensive flat crashed open, startling the young woman sitting at the kitchen table. As the DMLE guarded her with wands drawn, Minister Fudge strolled in, smirking. "Mary Sue, how could you? I trusted you, I gave you everything."
"Everything but my self-respect, you bloody tosser," she sneered. "You think I actually enjoyed your sick sex games? A sadistic bitch like Umbridge won't get anything out of me!" she said, throwing her quill at one guard as she grabbed another's wand. Pointing it at herself, she said, 'Avada Kedavra'.
"Drat," Secretary Umbridge complained as the secretary's body thumped to the floor. "I was so looking forward to interrogating her. Search the flat, and you," she pointed her wand at the unfortunate guard, 'Crucio!'"
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Saturday, January 29, 2000:
Hogwarts, Great Hall, Slytherin table: 07:47
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Lee looked up from the Prophet, saying, "Fudge is taking credit for breaking a spy ring in 'the heart of the Ministry'" He says 'an arrest and execution of the 'terrorist Pimpernel' is imminent.'
Charlie snorted, "Fudge can't find his arse without a guidebook and a 'Point me' spell."
"Speaking of whom," Felicia said, as a familiar (and newly replaced) green bowler entered the Great Hall, followed by a squad of DMLE thugs. People started to stand, and wands were drawn. The DMLE took positions next to the door, and around the Minister. Fudge smiled, motioning people down, saying, "I've come to arrest a dangerous terrorist. I have reason to believe that," he pointed at Mattie, "Wayne over there is the Pimpernel. If she doesn't surrender peacefully, I'll have to start by arresting her friends." He glowered at Sprink, "Starting with her pet werewolf."
Mattie slowly stood, and said, "I'm not the Pimpernel, Minister, but I'll go if you leave my friends alone."
"Really, Minister, has London addled what little brains you had?" Severus said as he stood. "If you're looking for the Pimpernel, here I am."
"Professor, you don't have to protect me," Sprink said, rising. "I'm the one they want, I'm the Pimpernel."
"Bollocks," Abby Michaels said from Hufflepuff. "You want the Pimpernel, here I am."
"Who else knows more about Anagallis arvensis?" Professor Sprout said as she stood. "I'm the Pimpernel."
"Now, Professor, please," Charlie Adams said. "The Minister wants to question the Pimpernel, here I am."
"I appreciate you lot doing this, but it's really not necessary," Harry Spencer said, standing at the Gryffindor table. "My father, brother and Gran understand why I had to become the Pimpernel."
"Your Gran?" Fudge blinked in confusion. Harry simply pointed at her portrait.
"Now really, this is unnecessary," the Headmaster stood as he said, "Cornelius, you want the Pimpernel, well, here I am."
"Now, Albus, you've always been a sweet man, but you don't need to do this," Minerva said as she stood. "Close your mouth, Minister, you'll draw flies." She settled her shawl, adding, "You were looking for the Pimpernel?"
Minister Fudge was becoming more and more infuriated. "Arrest... ARREST THEM ALL!" he bellowed.
The leftenant stood from his place at the end of the High Table. "Now, Minister, I don't see what the problem is. If Miss Wayne is not this Pimpernel person, than her examination by the Ministry should produce no difficulties," he said primly. He advanced toward the Slytherin table, adding, "Come along, Miss Wayne."
Sprink transformed, and gave a blood-curdling howl, followed seconds later by Amy, Jeremy and finally, Felicia. Vaulting the table, she charged at the leftenant, while the other three charged the Minister.
The Cortez twins glanced at each other; then headed for the dozen or so DMLE thugs that had encircled the Minister as the High Table at their backs quickly emptied, the three werewolves snarling as they circled. As they passed, they picked up bits of cutlery to throw. "We're going to have to get proper throwing knives," one twin told her sister. She nodded, "Think Wayne would like a shopping trip?" she asked as she threw a butter knife at a thug, who dropped his guard, leaving an opening for Amy, who lunged.
The leftenant was wrestling with Sprink while two thugs tried to help him, when Mattie arrived. With a couple kicks, the thugs were disabled, and Sprink leaped away, grinning wolfishly at Lee, who had arrived with Emma and the Quidditch team, wands drawn.
Mattie took a ready stance, waiting politely as the Leftenant regained his feet. "Perhaps you're unaware that the Minister has tried several times to kill me, Leftenant. I'll forgive your ignorance. You can either join me or sit out this little fight."
"Once again, Miss Wayne, you say nothing but lies. I find it impossible to give any credence to your wild tales of Ministry corruption and murder. I must support the Minister; he is our properly elected representative to Parliament and the Queen. Now, come along quietly."
"You've been away too long, Leftenant, you ought to listen to what your colleagues in the staff room are saying," Mattie replied. "Once again, I give you the choice to sit this out if you won't join me."
"I seem to be the only one able to make you see reason, Miss Wayne," the leftenant said, taking a ready stance. "The Headmaster and Professor Snape seem to have bought into your lies. I must support the Queen and her government."
"Oh, I support the Queen, she's a very nice lady," Mattie said as she started to circle. "Don't you find it interesting that her grandson supports me?"
"Nevertheless, Minister Fudge is the properly elected representative to the Crown," Leftenant Martin replied as he slowly circled. "The wizarding population of Great Britain must decide as to his fitness. Until then, he has declared you and this Pimpernel person criminals, I must do my duty as a Queen's officer to support him."
"'Stupefy!' Arthur shouted, stunning the Leftenant. He glared at Mattie, "We don't have time for you two to have a pissing contest." Sprink shoved him out of the way of a hex, and he nodded thanks to her, "We're a bit busy right now. Do it on your own time."
The outnumbered DMLE was fighting a defensive battle when Mattie started to work her way toward them. They managed to land a few curses on her, including a rather nasty cutting hex to her left shoulder. Lee Fook teamed up with Mattie, Arthur and Sprink as they worked their way through the thugs guarding the door.
Minister Fudge ducked an incoming hex, left hand holding his green bowler, the right his wand. He winced, waving his left hand as another curse scored the top of the hat, setting a small fire to the tablecloth behind him. "You might try using your wand, Minister!" an irritated DMLE guard called to him, casting a shield charm. Cornelius grimaced, 'This is not going at ALL to plan!' he thought, despite the unexpected attempt of the Royal Marine officer. He glanced over at that particular fight, seeing the officer go down. 'I would have thought fifty-to-one odds sufficient to arrest Wayne,' he mused. 'Apparently not. No wonder Lucius had so many problems last year. '
"Minister, we must leave!" the commander of his DMLE force called. "We'll try to work ..." a stunner from one of the students knocked him out. 'That makes sense. Consolidate our forces.' "Come along now," he called. "Let's move over near the door. Then we can arrest Wayne, Dumbledore, and all of the werewolves." One of the crouching 'wolves popped into human form, his former god-daughter Felicia asking plaintively, "Why, Uncle Cornelius?"
"You're a criminal, girl. Do you think I want to be linked to you?" Fudge snapped, as he fired a stunner at her. She jumped out of the way, transforming back to her wolf form, as the small group started to work its way toward the door, leaving the unconscious bodies of the others behind.
Charlie Adams crouched behind the Slytherin table, as Amanda asked, "Ready?" He nodded, throwing a bit of crockery at the crouching DMLE guards near the door. The teapot shattered on the wall, raining hot tea on two or three guards, who yelped, dropping their guards for a second or two. Amanda and Andrew fired precise stunners, dropping one of them.
"And this is why we have the DA," Abby Michaels said to Daphne and Stephanie, shielding the two firsties from a flying hex. Beside her, Eleanor Branstone added, "It's fun, too." She peeked over the Hufflepuff table; then fired a curse at one of Fudge's guards. The thug yelped, and grabbed his calf where the trouser leg flapped over the cut, his left hand bloody.
Jeremy growled as a curse singed his flank, looking back toward the Gryffindor table. Someone called; "Sorry!" and he wagged his tail in acceptance. "Another pain in the arse about being a 'wolf," he growled in wolvish, "is that you can't Bite someone, and you can't do magic."
"Isn't that the truth," Amy Johnson yipped in reply. "You've got to be a really big, mean dog."
Felicia growled, "I was wondering. You mean I can't Bite Uncle Cornelius?"
"Unfortunately not," Amy replied. "Not even close. No, what we have to do is to break their defenses physically, and then someone else will curse them."
"As a 'wolf, you're immune to most hexes and curses," Jeremy explained. "It might sting a bit, like that curse did me, but it won't really hurt you. Just make sure you're not shielding the bloke you're attacking."
"Like this," Amy said, leaping at a rather large woman, knocking her off balance and disrupting her shielding charm. A stunner zipped in from Ravenclaw, grazing Amy and knocking out the guard. She looked over her shoulder at her housemates, grinning and wagging her tail.
The three of the original dozen guards with the Minister were now within a few yards of the half-dozen others stubbornly holding a position near the doors. With a series of yips, the four werewolves took a position next to the doors, when Fudge stood up and shot sparks from his wand. The flying curses died off, and he adjusted his robes, asking, "Well, Mr. Dumbledore, are you and Miss Wayne prepared to surrender yourselves to me?"
"On what charge, Cornelius?" the Headmaster inquired gently.
"Committing acts of sedition and treason against the government, as the terrorist known as the Pimpernel," the Minister stated pompously.
"Ah, but I do not recognize you as my government, Cornelius. Nor do a great many witches and wizards. Instead, I recognize, and abide by, the laws of Great Britain as passed by Her Majesty's government, which do allow for self-defense." He peered over his half-moon spectacles, "Surely you recall this from last year's Declaration of Separation? A great number of witches and wizards have endorsed it, even if you have not."
"What Declaration? I have no idea what you're talking about, Dumbledore. Is that how you've managed to steal my tax revenue?"
The Headmaster sighed, "I have not stolen your taxes, Cornelius; we have arranged other sources of funding. People do not see why they should pay high taxes to you for a government that abuses their trust, arrests them without cause and ignores their will. They therefore are more than happy to pay the muggle Exchequer a lower rate for services. Surely you've seen the SAS troops guarding the streets of Hogsmeade and Diagon and Knockturn Alleys?"
As Fudge sputtered, Dumbledore turned, asking the Great Hall, "Has anyone a copy of the Declaration that we might pass on to Minister Fudge? It seems it never reached the first floor of the Ministry."
"I think I do, Headmaster," Stephanie said from Hufflepuff. "One moment, please," as she dug through her book bag, with an "Ah! Here we are!" she extracted a slightly battered copy; then blushed. "I ran out of parchment, so I used the back for notes. Sorry."
"Nae problem, lil' one," Frank's voice rumbled from Slytherin. With a wave of his wand, he copied her notes to a fresh scroll, handing it to her, and the Declaration to the Headmaster.
"Thank you, Mr. MacDonald, Miss Keyes," the Headmaster said politely. He advanced into the middle of the guards, fuchsia robes immaculate, offering the Declaration to the Minister. "I do hope you take the time to consider this carefully, Cornelius. As I have said before, there are a great number of our citizens unhappy with your Ministry, and for specific reasons. I trust you will take the appropriate actions, hmm?" He turned his back on the Minister and the DMLE, adding to the Great Hall, "While we have had an exciting morning, we are a school, even on a Saturday. Rough and tumble should be confined to the pitch, where it belongs, not in the middle of breakfast."
One of the guards shouted to Dumbledore's retreating back, "What about our mates?"
The Headmaster turned, "Those requiring medical assistance will receive it, Mr. Lucas, and then they will be returned. Good day."
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Saturday, January 29, 2000:
Hogwarts, staff quarters, Leftenant Martin's flat: 16:18
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Paul put his book down with a sigh. When he had woken up in the Infirmary, he had spent a few minutes listening to the DMLE guards around him. It shocked him to hear them complain about the Minister and 'that bloody bitch Umbridge'. When he had asked questions, he had found that the complaints about the Ministry were justified, the only reason most of the troops stayed was the steady Ministry paycheque in uncertain financial times.
"Even that's not worth much these days," one grizzled sergeant complained. "Now, th' only people makin' any money are connected wi' Wayne. If'n I didn' work such a staggered shift, I'd look into workin' for them on the side."
"But isn't Wayne the Pimpernel?" he had asked, receiving several guffaws.
"Look, mate, we 'preciate what y' tried to do for us, really we do," the sergeant said. "Aye, Wayne's bloody rich, but she don' rub y' nose in it, like Malfoy does. Did, rather, since he's dead 'n gone in Azkaban. Nae, she's nae 'fraid tae ge' her hands dirty, an' when the Ministry prats cut fundin' f' Hogwarts, she stepped up tae help out. I say 'Good f' her', and as long as the Pimpernel is givin' Fudge ulcers, I say 'Good f' him!'" He leaned over, "Did y' see tha' article in tha' Reporter about her auntie bein' kidnapped by Fudge?"
The leftenant nodded, and the sergeant continued, "Jonesy 'ere was on that detail. Wot ye' see, mate?"
"Bad bit of business, that," Jonesy said. "I gave my oath to the Ministry, so off I went with the Minister for my duty. I'll say that I've never heard of Wayne, or the Pimpernel, using the bloody Unforgivables. Any of you lot?" The other guards muttered they hadn't. "Fudge, Umbridge and Weasley, though, use 'em, and they're not shy about it. Anyways, me and Scorfino, he's off today, we're wrestling Wayne's auntie out the door of the staff room. Now, Fudge has already stunned all three of us, because he's such a poor wizard, so he wakes me and Scorfino up, we do a body bind on Ms. Lane, cause we hear she's a regular hellcat, and we start to float her out."
"Well, Wayne comes up the corridor from the Slytherin dorms, sees us, shouts for her auntie, and tries to rescue her. Nothing any one of us wouldn't do," Jonesy says, with general agreement. "Harry bloody Potter is behind her, and I'm thinking my goose is well and truly cooked, as I don't want to fight someone who took out the Dark Lord."
"Did Fudge actually claim any one of us could have taken out You-Know-Who?"
"Aye, and Scorfino and I are looking at him like he's off his rocker. FUDGE may not have tangled with the bloody Death Eaters, but we have," Jonesy continued. "Anyway, we're getting the auntie out so Fudge can ship her off to Azkaban. I'm hoping Wayne can stop us, I know I won't put up much of a fight. Her aunt is just doing her job, asking questions of Fudge that we'd all like to know. Did you lot know that our Fudgie's drawing two healthy pay packets? One as Minister; and one for the Wizengamot?" Several of them growled or snorted disgust. "I don't know how she knew that, but she had it spot on by Fudgie's reaction. Speaking of whom, he sees Wayne, whips out his wand, and starts to duel her, and she's hopping about like a demented snitch."
"I remember that," one guard said. "She did the same thing when that right bastard Hansen tried to arrest her best mate. I remember pawing through the Hufflepuff dorms, looking for the poor girl. So, what did Wayne do?"
"One moment, please," the leftenant said. "That actually happened? Wayne wasn't having me on?"
"It happened," the guard said. "The Minister came up with some cockup plan to make money by arresting werewolves. I've never figured it out; everyone knows that werewolves got no gold. So Wayne stands and fights for her best mate like she should while the girl is taken and hidden somewhere. She's standing three feet in front of Hansen, insulting him, and he can't hit her. He's about to cast the Cruciatus on her, students are flinging curses at us, and she conjures a bloody HUGE snake on us."
"Fudge, on the other hand, casts Cruciatus on her the first chance he has," Jonesy said. "He's standing, smiling and holding the curse on her, she's screaming and flopping about like a landed fish, and then she starts to crawl toward him. Blood is on her face, she gets to within ten feet or so of the Minister..."
"While he's holding the curse?" the leftenant said, appalled.
"While he's holding the curse," Jonesy confirmed. "He's scared, his hand is shaking, but all he can think is to hold the curse. She struggles to her knees, and pulls out a knife from somewhere. Fudge loses control, we could smell him fouling his trousers, breaks the curse and runs, and we follow with auntie."
"Fudge cast crucio on a second-year and held it?"
"For three, four minutes," Jonesy confirmed. "And he's our Minister."
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Saturday, January 29, 2000:
London, Diagon Alley, Highfield's Haberdashery: 17:29
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The bell over the door tinkled gently, and the clerk looked up, "Ah, Minister Fudge. One moment, please, I shall fetch Mr. Highfield." He disappeared in the back as the Minister slumped into a chair.
"Minister Fudge, how pleasant to see you again," Jonathan Highfield told his distinguished client. "You look all done in. Would you care for a spot of tea?"
"Thank you, Jonathan that would be wonderful." A house-elf appeared, and the Minister smacked his lips appreciatively. (Mr. Highfield repressed a shudder. 'How gauche!' he thought.) He sighed, "I am in need of another hat, Jonathan."
"Perhaps another suit, and a matching robe as well?" Mr. Highfield suggested, nodding at the ripped sleeves and trouser leg. "What have you been doing, Minister? Playing rugby with the muggles?"
"Almost," the Minister admitted with a tired smile. "I went to Hogwarts to arrest Wayne, you know, the "Pimpernel" (he finger quoted), but she resisted. Then Dumbledore stuck his long nose into it, and we lost forty or so DMLE guards. I barely escaped with half a dozen!" He took another sip of tea, adding, "Dumbledore then had the effrontery to force a Declaration of some sort on me! Well, I burned it as soon as we were out the door. Who is he to tell me how to run my Ministry?"
'Someone you should perhaps listen to?' Jonathan thought, privately relieved that Fudge had burnt the Declaration. He would lose the man's business if he had seen his signature on the document. Fudge was a fool, of course, but a well-paying fool. "Of course, of course," he soothed. "Dumbledore may run a school, what does he know about running a Ministry?"
"Exactly!" Fudge sat up, spilling his tea. "I have so many budget problems; it's difficult to keep things running! Why, monthly tax revenue is down..."
Jonathan let him natter on, inserting the occasional 'Tisk, tisk,' and 'Umm' to keep him babbling. Not for a minute did he believe little Mattie Wayne was the infamous Pimpernel. While certainly wealthy (her brother, uncle and father had bought suits from him), he had no contact with her, not catering to the ladies' trade. Indeed, his fellow merchants claimed she was something of a tomboy, playing Quidditch on her house team.
He also read the Reporter, and while he was careful to keep it in the back room (lest it disturb his high-born clients), he found the reporting far more accurate and balanced than the Prophet. 'Yes, Minister, you do have problems,' he thought as he poured another cup of tea.
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