Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter, nor St Trinian's belong to me, I gain nothing but satisfaction and maybe some kind words from strangers.
"The Plan"
Percy Weasley had been living a rather uneventful life after Hermione moved out of Gwynevere's Nest; the weekly visits from Ron and Harry had subsided, work had carried on, and if he wanted to see any of his family, the best bet was to head to the Burrow on any given day. Having Hermione flatting with him had been his major social lifeline, he had realised suddenly one Tuesday morning as he readied for work.
Curiously, it wasn't a week after this epiphany that an owl sent from Hermione landed gracefully on his desk at the Ministry, urging him to take the letter attached to his leg. Three affectionate nips later and the bird soared away into the distance, leaving Percy with a strange note from his old flatmate and a befuddled expression. And now, the bespectacled red-head was waiting in the sitting room for her to floo into the apartment, still none the wiser about what it was Hermione wanted from him.
The fireplace flared a brilliant emerald green at eight forty-five in the morning and the witch in question shot out of it unstably, but managed to nimbly avoid the coffee table. (The stupid thing had been the bane of every visitor's life, sitting directly on the exit path of the floo, but neither Hermione nor Percy had realised or cared, since they rarely travelled through it themselves, until Hermione had been required to zip home quickly from the Leaky one time, completely destroying the bloody thing and leaving it in pieces.) When she righted herself, a rather prideful look had painted itself on her face.
"I remembered to evade that blasted table," she said with a grin. Percy couldn't help but smile. "Don't laugh at me," Hermione admonished jokingly. "How are you?"
"Fine, fine," Percy responded. "Nothing much has changed around here. What can I do for you, Miss Granger? Need somewhere to stay while you break out a dragon? A hideout?"
She laughed at him and swatted his arm. "No, nothing that extreme," she assuaged him. "It's just that I need some files, and, well, I know you can get them, even if you don't like to admit or remember anything from that time."
Despite his rigour and deep-rooted Ministry patriotism during that particular period, the length of time Percy spent under the control of Dolores Umbridge wasn't entirely pleasant. He had figured out about halfway through the regime that it wasn't the way to be doing things, but couldn't get out of it – the Ministry was a volatile workplace at the best of times and he had desperately needed work as an independent renter.
"Who's file?" He asked warily.
"Fitzgerald Umbridge." The name made him flinch lightly. "I'm sorry Percy, but I really need it; as soon as you can get it, ideally by tonight."
"Alright," he agreed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "But only because it's you asking."
"You're a gem," Hermione beamed and latched onto him for a forceful hug. Percy patted her back awkwardly. "Send Hermes when you can. Thank you so much, Perce."
In a flash of green flame she was gone again, and Percy cleared his throat, intending to get his little mission over with as fast as he could.
OoO
Organising to meet Harry and Ron during school hours had been ridiculously easy, Hermione thought privately as she and Aspasia flooed to the Leaky Cauldron bang on eleven o'clock the next morning. A by-product of having such peculiar teachers with unorthodox lessons, she supposed.
The Wizarding pub was fairly crowded already, the lunch rush having just begun, so the two witches managed to sneak out into Muggle London where they intended to meet Ron and Harry without incident. Tom almost called out to Hermione, but a quick finger to the lips silenced him and he grinned his gap-tooth smile at her and tapped his nose knowingly before turning his head back to the other occupants.
The brunette witch had always liked Tom; he was an excellent barkeep – listening carefully, offering logical answers or suggestions to his patrons' questions, and he knew when to keep his counsel. The muggle side of the border was much busier, and the two had no trouble blending into the crowd (though Aspasia twice caught the attention of some young bankers, one of whom walked directly into a lamp post in his stupor). Eventually Ron's obvious mop of hair stood out like beacon amongst the monotone colours of the London work force, his height giving them even more of a chance to spot them.
"Harry, Ron!" Hermione called out. "Over here!"
"Hey, Hermione, how're you doing?" Ron asked, wrapping her up in a bear hug as soon as she was close enough. "I hear there's another infestation of Umbridges…"
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the name.
"Fitzgerald Umbridge," she informed him, "is exactly like his sister, but without the magic; it doesn't seem to slow him down any though. Unfortunately."
Harry interrupted before the topic became one long bitching session about the family. "Your letter said you needed our help. Well, we're here – what can we do?"
At this, Hermione's face lit up instantly before slipping into a frightening expression that promised a slightly sadistic glee. Harry held back a flinch.
"The other girls and I have been doing some very mild plotting," she explained, "and some of the conclusions we've come to regarding saving our school involve a little bit of magic, and some very muggle methods, but the Board who are coming with our new friend to visit and judge have no idea about the Wizarding World. Now, as magical folk aren't supposed to use magic in front of non-magic folk, we'll have brought in undercover Ministry workers before our job is done if we alert the Department of Magical Education to a muggle inspection lead by Mr Umbridge."
She paused.
"Of course, on occasion, the Aurors are needed in situations where muggle have been caught in the midst of a magical outburst, and the Obliviators do belong to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so perhaps – and this is all I'm suggesting – we could cut out the middle man."
Ron looked slightly lost, working through her words slowly, but Harry's eyes were alight with curiosity and understanding.
"You are a sneaky one, Hermione," he told her, sounding impressed. "By coming directly to us, there won't be employees from the Department of Magical Education interfering with your plots, only a clean-up committee."
Hermione nodded happily.
"Is any of what you're planning on doing illegal?" He asked quickly.
"Of course not," Hermione declared. "Strongly discouraged, perhaps, but not illegal."
"Well, that's alright then," Ron said with a cheeky grin, having caught up. "I have to say, Hermione, you must be quite familiar with that line between legal and illegal these days-"
"Hey," she protested weakly, but Ron continued despite it.
"- because you sure hover around there a lot. Always on the right side, though," he concluded pleasantly.
"Hey, now, back to business," Aspasia butted her way into the conversation, having spent the last few minutes eyeing up a cyclist waiting at the lights. Goodness she loved Lycra outfits (on fit men, only, of course). "Are you two both prepared to clean up some serious crap after we unleash hell on that bastardo?"
Ron and Harry agreed.
"Good. We'll keep the muggle Board Members together in the hall, and you can Obliviate all the ones you need then," Aspasia finished, clapping her hands together once as if to signal the end of their meeting.
"I think I'm starting to feel a little sorry for this Fitzy fellow." Harry commented wryly, looking from one malicious expression to the other on the girls' faces.
"Don't," Aspasia replied casually, flicking her hair out of her face. "Now, come on Hermione, we've still got a visit to my darling brother left to do."
OoO
Two parts of the plan had been taken care of – Percy's owl Hermes had arrived at seven that same evening – and the atmosphere in Flash Harry's 'classroom' was eager as the third fell into place: thanks to Kelly's manipulation of the besotted fellow, a plethora of paintball guns, fireworks and flour bags covered the floor below the blackboard, reaching the first row of desks, and the lithe man was finishing up an explanation for Celia revolving a suspicious looking brown paper bag that she now held.
"Tara, Tania, the fireworks are yours, as is the flour," Kelly intoned. "Celia, you've got what you need… chavs-" ("Oi!" came the indignant cry from Taylor at the label) "-you'll be in charge of the paintball guns so get used to firing them," she ordered.
"Wha'ever." Taylor eloquently responded, climbing through the pile of artillery to collect a gun, the rest of the chavs following her lead. There was a loud repetitive thwacking sound and the Posh Totties had to dive forward as one of the chavs accidentally hit the trigger. Gazing woefully at the newly decorated pink, blue and fluorescent green wall behind them, Kelly added, "And learn how to aim."
"Kel, a word?" Flash asked hopefully from his place by the door. She gave him a derisive once over, ice-queen that she was, but nodded and followed him out. Hermione joined in the conversation Polly had struck up with Chelsea, to which Peaches and Chloe listened attentively.
"According to our trawling," Polly was saying, "the seven board members are all men, of varying ages, and various quality; the plan is to take them down one by one, leaving Our Fitzy for last." She smirked, straightening her glasses. "Now, as soon as Kel comes back-"
As if on cue, the Head Girl re-entered the room, a sheepish Flash trailing behind her like a puppy, muttering something along the lines of 'right, no mixing of business and pleasure'.
"-we'll get on with explaining the plan in its entirety," Polly finished, scrabbling to gather her laptop and other miscellaneous items as she moved to the front of the classroom, aiming to set up the animated run through of what was intended to happen the next day.
"Quiet, girls!" Kelly called out after an ear-splitting whistle. "This is how we're going to get even."
One of Polly's girls dimmed the lights and the projector screen was pulled down, and by hitting a button on the laptop the techies got things underway, Polly narrating as the animation began to play out as if in response to her words.
"The eight targets will be arriving tomorrow at the arranged time of oh-nine-hundred hours," she began, the nine cartoon men walking up to the Entrance Hall. Hermione had to give them points for the toadish face they'd given Fitzgerald Umbridge, "whereupon they will be routinely placed at specific points through the school. Now, according to our information, these tend to be the same in all situations, but if this isn't the way things turn out the plan still stays the same. Alright?"
Head bobbed up and down in understanding.
"Okay," Polly went on, "Board Member One will be demobilised in the art room during First Year art class, at oh-nine-thirty hours. Tara, Tania, this is your first target: Mr Gavin Grey. Make it messy," she instructed them, clearly unworried by the gleeful expressions now lighting up their faces.
"Following the loss of Mr Grey will be targets Number Two and Three: Misters Black and Brown, who will respectively be demobilised with help from the Cornish Pixies Aspasia's brother is sending us, and drugged Celia, during morning tea," the bespectacled blonde continued professionally, checking the animation as it showed one of the men being tugged into a broom cupboard by a cartoon, but unmistakable, Aspasia while another began acting strangely upon drinking his tea.
"Numbers Four and Five will be dealt with during Sports," Kelly took up the post of informer with a determined voice, "as the Board will split up. It's likely that Umbridge will remain inside the school building with Nicholson and Greyson, so that means the Four and Five are probably going to be Mr White and Mr Nichols. White is to be your target, Taylor," she directed, "and Nichols, he's got an appointment with your flour bags, you twin terrors," she told Tara and Tania with a curling cat-like smile.
"As for Messrs Greyson, Nicholson and Umbridge," she concluded, "well, that's your territory, Granger." And she left the floor with a sweeping arm, encouraging Hermione to stand up before the other girls. The brunette witch complied, and was faced with a sea of expressions ranging from vindictive glee to earnest eagerness as they regarded her and the moving pictures behind that depicted their increasingly complex plan.
"Umbridge is for me and Miss Fritton," she told them determinedly. "Whatever happens, leave them to us. But the other two are fair game. The plan is that we disable Nicholson with some choice Weasley products," she grinned malevolently, "while the Posh Totties do what they do best with Greyson, ensuring that a school inspection is the last thing on his mind."
I hope this is okay. I feel like a crazy person: into it, not into it, hot, cold, 2010, 2011… GOSH! Anyway, Happy New Year everybody.