DISCLAIMER: One and one makes two, if I don't write disclaimers, JKR will sue.
Gosh, that was horrible.
A/N: Hellooooooo! Enjoy and review!
OoOoO
Umbridge, it turns out, wasn't just a controlling, prejudiced, stuck up bully of a teacher. As Cass carved her own writing into her wrist, scolding Harry silently for hiding the fact that he had gone through the same, she realized that Umbridge was pure evil.
Earlier that day, the first Tuesday back in school, Cass, Brooke, Sarah, and Marcell had been suffering through their mandatory DADA class. In between discreetly rolling their eyes at each other, pretending to read, half-heartedly practicing (read: failing) wandless magic in anticipation for the D.A. meeting tomorrow, and frowning at Umbridge, the professor called out in the otherwise silent room.
"Miss McGarther, if I could speak to you regarding your absence the last few days of term?"
Cass tore her eyes from her book and adopted a compliant expression with some difficulty. "Of course." She tacked on a half-hearted "ma'am" at the end. Wondering why the shuck the toad always picked on her, Cass got up and walked stiffly to Umbridge's desk.
"What do you want to know?" Cass wished the words didn't sound so loud in the silent classroom. She could feel the stares of the other students at her back, though she was sure they were pretending to work.
"As I understand it, there was some mishap at the Ministry?" asked Umbridge, her voice toxically sweet.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And why did you think it appropriate for you to involve yourself?"
"Er, because I had a vision, you see—"
"Miss McGarther," interrupted Umbridge snappishly. "Now, I believe we have talked about lying about you being a Seer in the past, have we not?" Not giving Cass a change to answer, the toad continued. "And you still claim to be one?"
"Yes," replied Cass, a defiant edge to her green eyes. She hoped her contempt of the professor showed.
"No," said Umbridge forcefully through gritted teeth. "You are not a Seer."
"I am." Cass knew she should stop, but she so did not want to. She could keep this up all day. Plus, she suspected her friends behind her were holding in laughter. She had to give them some entertainment in this class. Episodes like this happened to one of them at least once a week. She had a duty to her friends.
"Class!" announced Umbridge. "I know you can all hear mine and Miss McGarther's conversation. I implore you to ignore these nasty lies, just as you should ignore the malicious rumors of You-Know-Who being back spread by certain lying individuals."
Cass couldn't help the words that tumbled out of her mouth. "They aren't rumors. I Saw him. And"—her voice took on a snappish edge—"Potter isn't a liar."
Dead silence reigned in the classroom. Not that it hadn't been silent before, but now . . . now it was as if everyone was holding their breaths, waiting to see what would happen, to see what the toad would do.
Then, with quiet triumph, Umbridge said, "Detention, Miss McGarther. Tonight, my office. You take that straight to Professor McGonagall to get it signed." She held a detention slip in her hand in a manner that reminded Cass of someone holding a weapon.
Cass gaped furiously, a million insults flooding her brain. She said none of them but hoped vigorously that Umbridge saw them in her stiff posture.
"Go now, inform your Head of House."
Cass's friends were looking at her with a range of emotions: Sarah was wincing, Marcell was holding up a weak thumbs-up, and Brooke was angry. Her Gryffindor friend shot a look of loathing at Umbridge, but Cass shook her head in a silent 'no'.
Gripping the detention in her hand, Cass left the class, her steps bordering on stomping. She should have known that was coming. Even without her Sight, she shouldn't have been stupid enough to fall for Umbridge's trap.
She arrived at the door to McGonagall's office and knocked on it.
"Come in," came the professor's voice. Preparing herself for her Head of House's disappointment, Cass walked in.
McGonagall looked up from the stack of parchments she had been grading. Sighing and taking off her reading glasses, she said, "You too, Miss McGarther?" Her sharp eyes were on the detention slip in Cass's hand.
Cass nodded mutely, looking at the inkwell on the teacher's desk. Professor McGonagall, who had kept the secret from her right alongside Dumbledore, was not someone she necessarily wanted to talk to.
"Your brother's just gotten detention as well. Issued by Umbridge?"
Cass nodded again, still keeping her eyes stubbornly on the inkwell. Harry and her really were twins. They had the unique talent of ticking Umbridge right off.
"May I ask what for?"
"She said Voldemort—uh, You-Know-Who—was just a rumor. And she called Harry a liar."
"I see," said McGonagall. "Miss McGarther, you realize it's imperative that you remain hidden? That includes from the Ministry."
"I—"Cass shut herself up, admitting mentally that the professor might be right. She wasn't about to say that out loud though. "I was careful. I didn't reveal anything. I even called Harry 'Potter' to make it seem like we didn't know each other. Professor, why does Dumbledore put up with her?"
McGonagall's eyes turned strict. "You will refer to the headmaster respectfully, Miss McGarther. And to answer your question, Professor Dumbledore has no say in the matter. I wish it were not the case, but I'm afraid we're stuck with her."
Cass decided to ignore Professor McGonagall reprimanding her about Dumbledore, figuring she already angered one too many professors today.
After getting to slip signed, Cass returned with great dread to class. Umbridge grinned saccharinely at her, plucked the slip from her hand, and told her to get back to her reading. Deciding to live life on the edge, and figuring she hardly had anything left to lose, Cass left the Defense book closed the rest of the class, her arms crossed on the desk.
She could be quite the nuisance without even uttering a word.
OoOoO
Umbridge's office reflected her personality perfectly; overly sweet to a sickening, suffocating degree.
Holy treacle tart, this woman loves pink, Cass thought in disgust as she walked into detention. Pink carpeting, pink lace, pink paintings. Cass's nostrils were clogged with an overwhelming scent of flowers. Decorative plates sat on display, each showing kittens. What an absolutely awful place to spend time in.
"Good evening, Miss McGarther," came a voice from behind the cloth-topped desk.
"Evening," Cass said stiffly, wrinkling her nose slightly.
"Please have a seat. This will only take …oh, thirty minutes or so," said Umbridge, pointing to a small, lace-covered table with a straight-backed chair next to it.
Cass did as she was told and set her schoolbag on the floor next to her. Thirty minutes too long, she thought.
"There, now. Do you know why you're here?" Umbridge said in a sugary voice.
"Yes, of course. I should've been more respectful to you," Cass said as innocently as she could, choking back laughter as Umbridge's eyes bulged.
"I see you are missing the point, dear," the toad said tightly. "You are here because of the outright, attention-seeking, nasty, stories you told, Miss McGarther."
Cass almost said, 'I am?' but held her tongue. Instead, she settled for raising her chin pointedly and attempting a righteous gaze.
Umbridge smiled poisonously at Cass as if she knew Cass was struggling not to say anything. Although Cass would never admit this, the toad-like face and the saccharine smile were getting to her. I am dealing with a sugar-coated monster here, Cass told herself. She didn't let any of this show on the outside, though. No way was Cass going to give Umbridge that satisfaction.
Umbridge cleared her throat. "You will be doing lines today, Miss McGarther. Some of the older students have had to do it and they found it…quite unpleasant. For a first-year such as yourself, it won't be too bad…but do not tempt me, Miss McGarther. I do not condone selfish and dishonest behavior," she said with a nod, as if proud of whatever punishment she had concocted.
Cass started to take out one of her Self-Inking Quills but was interrupted. "No, no, no. You will use my quill," said Umbridge, extending a thin, long black quill.
As soon as Cass touched it, her vision flickered painfully.
A bespectacled boy with unruly black hair and bright green eyes sat in a stiff-backed chair in front of a table draped in lace. He held an ebony quill with a fine point that was unusually sharp.
As he scribbled on a piece of parchment, the boy gave a quick gasp of pain. On the back of his hand were the words, 'I must not tell lies.' They were carved into his hand, the Seer realized in horror.
Cass clumsily grabbed the quill from Umbridge's hand as her vison ended. Oh my goodness…the monster! Cass thought in panic. She was going to have to do that to her hand…and that was Harry! Her blood ran cold. Her brother had already gone through this, and by the looks of his face, the vision had been old. Months old maybe. How long had he been . . . ?
"You will write 'I must not spread untrue rumors,'" Umbridge told Cass softly. Cass stared at her with wide eyes; what kind of teacher was allowed to do this?
"How many times?" Cass asked with a creditable imitation of casualness. I can't do this!
"Just enough for it to sink in," replied Umbridge with a look of smugness about her.
Cass nodded, not trusting herself to speak. What to do…Cass suddenly had an idea. She 'dropped' the quill, murmuring, "My bad." Cass picked up the quill while taking a Color-Changing one from her backpack; from her desk, Umbridge couldn't see what she was doing. The quills didn't look exactly the same, but their plumes were of similar color and their handles were the same shade of black. Cass hurriedly straightened the plume of her quill to make it match Umbridge's and straightened up, Color-Changing Quill in hand and Devil Quill tucked safely in her robes' pocket.
Umbridge tsked softly.
"That will be another detention, Miss McGarther. Please use the quill I gave you."
Cass scowled at the professor. Internally, she was warring with herself. Prideful as she was, she could either suffer through the quill without giving Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing her upset or she could make a dash for it and go tell Dumbledore. Only . . . asking the no-good old codger for help was the last thing she wanted to do right now. And besides, what was that McGonagall had said? Dumbledore was losing power as headmaster. She doubted the Ministry would allow him to kick their puppet out. Cass realized she was well and utterly trapped.
"Begin writing now, Miss McGarther. All actions have their consequences."
And all toads have their warts, thought Cass. Exhaling angrily, she scrunched up her face and began to write. She wished her Sight had deigned to show her this happening. Then maybe she could have avoided this. It just served to remind how not omniscient she was. She made a mental note to berate the treacle tarts out of Harry when this was over. Keeping something like this to himself. Honestly.
The pain was worse than she thought it would be.
Cass gasped as the quill wrote her own neat script into her arm, marking the beginning of a half hour of torture. After the first shock, Cass managed to keep her face clean of strain, even attempting pleasant—if underlined with disrespect—conversation with Umbridge.
"How was your day, Professor?"
"You will be silent for this detention."
"Mine was pretty boring, too. It's odd how one gets used to magic, isn't it?"
"I will give you more detentions."
That shut Cass up. She would have moved on to more forms of annoying the evil woman, but her arm was starting to really hurt. It was the worst sensation, writing lines knowing it would only result in agony for her. She tried pretending to write lines, but the toad quickly caught on and threatened more detentions. Cass could almost taste her own fury. What kind of world allowed teachers like this to hurt children? What kind of headmaster would let this happen under his nose? Cass already knew how unreliable Dumbledore could be, though, so she wasn't terribly surprised. But, holy mother of treacle tarts, her arm was on fire. She felt like screaming, swearing, crying—blood dripped on to the desk—
"You may stop," Umbridge announced after about thirty minutes. Cass made a point to finish the line she was working on, just to spite the toad. She had a strong proud streak. Her arm already hurt, might as well play it off coolly.
"Yes . . . almost done . . . there," said Cass, adding a period to the parchment with as much sass as she could muster.
"Miss McGarther, my quill, please," Umbridge said with a triumphant grin.
Cass handed her the quill and slung her bag over her shoulder. Twisted, evil, insane…
"Wait, dear, your arm please." Cass sighed and held up her poor arm, forcing a bored expression on her face.
Umbridge inspected her hand and looked proud of the bright red marks on it. No teacher should treat students this way! Cass silently screamed to herself. She couldn't believe Harry hadn't told anyone. Honestly, she thought, how in the heck has Harry survived this long being so thick? Had he told no one? But, thinking it over, Cass realized the last thing she wanted to do right now was go to Dumbledore for help. Maybe that made her stupid, but oh well. However, as she left Umbridge's office, Cass swore that she wouldn't let Umbridge get away with this, regardless of whether or not Dumbledore was aware of it. Toad's going down.
OoOoO
A very annoyed and tired Cass plopped herself down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She had just gotten back from the loo, her arm slightly damp from rinsing it off. The red had hardly faded.
Brooke jumped a bit, splashing pumpkin juice onto face. "Cass!"
"Sorry," Cass grumbled, handing Brooke a napkin.
Brooke narrowed her eyes at Cass. "Was the detention that bad?"
Cass nodded her head glumly, her arm throbbing. She laid her head down and explained her awful evening to Brooke from underneath her arms.
Brooke's expression was mingled horror and shock and anger.
"Cass . . . you have to tell somebody."
"Actually, Brooke, I have a better idea. Obviously Umbridge has the backing of the Ministry behind her, so I don't think reporting this will help much. I was thinking more along the lines of . . . direct revenge."
"Direct revenge?"
Cass nodded, her expression still strained. "Imagine putting thumb tacks on the toad's chair and then think bigger. Much bigger."
Brooke flashed an evil grin. "Like a prank?"
"Bigger," said Cass. "It will need to be very well-planned."
Brooke gave Cass another grin. "Well, then. Looks like we'll just have to do some reconnaissance, won't we?" she said, grinning wider.
Despite her pain, Cass smiled back.
OoOoO
That night, in the Gryffindor common room, Cass approached her brother, a frown on her face. She couldn't get over the fact that he had hidden Umbridge's detentions from her. "Harry?"
He looked up from his conversation with Ron and Hermione. "Yes?"
Sighing, Cass sat down on the armchair next to him and looked him straight in the eye. "Why didn't you tell anyone about Umbridge's detentions?"
"WHAT?" Harry exclaimed loudly, drawing many heads to the small group. Cass did her best to ignore the confused glances. Harry cast his eyes around the room, but still whispered, "Do not tell me that she—that she made you write with that?" He sounded and looked furious.
"Yeah, actually, she did," she muttered angrily. "And the worst part? I knew what was going to happen. I knew. But not from you—I had a vision right before it happened."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell me that the bloody—" he then said an unprintable word that caused Hermione to give him a furious gasp. "—made you write with it?"
"Yeah," said Cass, scowling. "You're missing the point here, though. Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have defended you in class if I knew it was going to happen!" Actually, she probably would have regardless, but Harry didn't need to know that. She was rather upset with him.
"You defended me?"
"Again, you're missing the point!"
"Was it bad? Please tell me she didn't hurt you too much."
Cass opened her mouth again to scold some sense into him (because she was bossy like that) but snapped it shut. He was looking at her worriedly, guilt and concern written all over his face, his hands shaking with what was clearly anger at Umbridge. She felt the berating words flee from her tongue. He looked like a brother. An older brother.
"No," she lied quietly. "It wasn't that bad."
"I'm sorry I kept it from you, Cass," he said genuinely. "I'm really sorry. This is going to sound mental, but I honestly hadn't thought of it. I haven't had a detention with the toad since—well, that day we found out—and my mind has been on other things. Actually, I have detention with her tomorrow night, so I was going to tell you tonight. I'm sorry."
"Okay, I believe you," said Cass, surprising herself. "I still think it was rather thick of you to let her get away with it."
"I didn't exactly feel like telling Dumbledore."
"Yeah, I don't either, but don't you want to get back at her?"
"I—" Harry paused, looking at Cass. "Get back at her how?"
"Wait a minute, Umbridge's nasty, but we really shouldn't—" began Hermione, but Cass cut her off.
"I don't know, but whatever it is, it has to be good."
Harry still had a dark look on his face. "I can't believe she did that to you . . .
"I can," muttered Cass. "She's awful."
"That's an understatement," said Ron bitterly.
"Anyway, I thought it might be better to go at Umbridge head-on," said Cass.
"You? Head-on against a teacher?" repeated Ron, astonished.
Cass sniffed her nose. "Yes."
"Oh, I thought you were a Hermione-type—"
"Finish that sentence, Ronald," said Hermione daringly.
"Never mind."
Cass smiled at the bickering that had already become familiar to her. "Right, Brooke already said she and I could do some reconnaissance—you know, get familiar with the toad's schedule, know her office layout, and all that—"
"Could the D.A. get involved?" suggested Harry.
"Yeah, that's actually brilliant."
"Wonderful, we can go over it in the meeting in two days."
"Cass, do you think you could get some information on Umbridge before the meeting?" asked Ron.
"Of course. It should be a piece of cake for me—you know, with my Sight and all."
"Be careful," advised Hermione.
Cass smiled as the four dived into some rough planning of the revenge on the toad. This was going to be brilliant.
OoOoO
"Reconnaissance" didn't turn out too well. Cass and Brooke had used every method they could to spy on Umbridge; Cass's Vision, Cass's ability to be sneaky, Brooke's craftiness (that had landed them dangling from the ceiling in Umbridge's office That was the last time Cass had listened to Brooke). Brooke had even got sunglasses for the two to wear, which resulted in Cass whispering furiously, "Why would we need sunglasses inside?! We look like idiots! Where did you even get those?"
In the end, it had all been for naught. Cass and Brooke did not get one shred of useful information in their two-day investigation, only sideways glances from paintings and cobwebs in their hair from dangling from a ceiling. Cass still had the urge to smack her head with her hand when she thought of Brooke's horrible idea.
"Ugh! Nothing!" Brooke growled in frustration on Thursday afternoon, the D.A. "Two days of nothing. I knew we should have asked the others for help."
Cass gave Brooke a flat look. "I suggested that."
"Oh, right, well you should have pushed harder on that particular idea."
Cass resisted the urge to throttle Brooke.
OoOoO
"First, I hope you all had a fantastic Winter Break," began Harry that Thursday, the members of the D.A. listening with rapt attention. "Second, I want to conduct this meeting, er, differently. This week, we'll only be practicing spellwork for thirty minutes and wandless magic for ten. The rest of the time will—if you all are willing—be spent planning a prank on Umbridge."
The D.A. members looked confused at his announcement.
"What are we, the Weasley twins?" called out Smith. "I'm not here to be planning jokes on teachers."
"It'll just be one teacher, and for good reason," said Harry. "Tell me, have any of you ever had detention with the toad?"
A couple older Hufflepuffs paled and a fourth-year Gryffindor looked at the floor. Cass, predictably, raised her hand and spoke up, "I have. My friends know the story—the toad has this quill, you see, and it—"
"And it carves words into your hand," finished one of the Hufflepuffs. Harry thought his name was something Brown. "Me and my mate"—he gestured to the person beside him—"got into trouble for sticking up for you, Harry, and the old wart gave us detentions for a week."
"Thank you," said Harry quietly, moved they had stood up for him.
"It's bloody awful," added Brown's friend, nodding his head at Harry. "This quill . . . wait, hang on. McGarther, you said Umbridge made you go through that? You're just a first-year!"
Cass nodded, grimacing, and held up her arm. Faint red words could be made out on her lightly-tanned skin. Harry felt a surge of anger rise up in him, his fingertips warming with power. He had to remind himself that they whole point of today's meeting was to get back at Umbridge for doing this to students.
Everyone started shouting, appalled that Umbridge had used a Blood Quill on students. Over by the dummies, the Weasley twins stood up on a wooden block, above the crowd.
"Harry, mate, if we could lead this meeting? I believe pranks are our area of expertise," shouted Fred.
"You kidding? I was going to ask you two anyway!" replied Harry as the room quietened.
"Brilliant," grinned George. "Right, so first: do we have information on Umbridge? It's hard to pull pranks off without knowing the general routine of the victim."
Cass and her friend, Brooke, exchanged sheepish glances.
"Well, Cass and I tried to do some, er, recon, but we—we uh—"
"Failed miserably," said Cass dryly. "All we know is that she puts six scoops of sugar in her tea—also, she eats licorice with her scone in the morning."
There was a moment of awkward silence where everyone looked at Cass and Brooke as though they were stalkers.
"What?" said Cass. "I, uh, Saw that. You know, I had a vision."
"Licorice? With a scone?" intoned Angelica Johnson, a look of disgust on her face. "Merlin, what is wrong with this woman?"
"Actually, Cass, that could be useful," said George thoughtfully. Harry reckoned he didn't really want to know how George thought Umbridge's questionable breakfast choices were useful. "Could someone write that down?"
Hermione scrawled Six sugar scoops in tea, licorice with scones on a chalkboard that had suddenly appeared right next to her.
"Right," said Fred. "That's—uh—not the best starting point, but it's a starting point. Lee, I'm putting you in charge of recon—Cass, you should probably work with him. Chang, Johnson, you two are on supply detail. George and I are happy to provide the bulk of the items, but ask Harry for any money you'll need." Harry opened his mouth to protest, thought of the mountains of gold collecting dust in his vaults, and signaled he was okay with that idea with a thumbs-up. "Terry, Michael, get to work on ways of communication—sorry, Hermione, those coins aren't going to cut it for the elaborate planning of this prank . . ."
With the Weasley twins directing them, Dumbledore's Army got to work on the best prank Hogwarts had ever seen.
OoOoO
A/N (part two): As we near the end of this year (this next semester will fly by swiftly) I figured a prank was just the thing to top off Umbridge's reign of terror. I always wondered what the D.A. could accomplish if really pushed . . . guess you all will find out in the next few chapters. Heads up, a prank isn't the big finale of this crazy year. It kind of pales in comparison to what I have planned . . . *laughs evilly*
