AN: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited. You all made my week.

I have a question for you: what would you change about Hogwarts to make it a better school? Different teachers and classes? Different rules? Tell me anything you would like to see in this story; I'm open to everyone's suggestions. If I use your ideas, I'll make sure to properly credit you.

I'll remind you that English is not my native language, so if you find some glaring misspelling or grammatical error, don't be shy in pointing it out and I'll correct them when I can. If someone wishes to be this story's beta, please send me a PM, as I am currently struggling to write the next chapters.

For those finding this story badly written and 'incredibly bad cliché' (guest's review), you don't have to read it. I'm writing this kindly out of my own free time and for my own pleasure (and others'). This is fanfiction and that means that everyone can write their stories how they well damn want, and if someone doesn't like it, they simply should leave. There are many other stories on this site that surely will grab your interest.

Sorry about that. Having said that, to everyone who enjoys this story, have a good read!

''I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.''

– Maya Angelou

Previously:

For the next hour, the witch and the goblins decided on her new documentation: the names of her fictional parents, date and place of birth, grades desired in both O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's and mastery in Magical Defence (Florence refused to have a mastery with that prejudiced name that the British wizards like to label; as if the only thing that they needed to defend from was the Dark Arts), and everything else that they thought necessary.

CHAPTER 3

Florence already had her new family tree created in her mind for some time. She would claim to be the great-granddaughter of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black – Harry Potter's grandparents – and thus granddaughter of their first (secret) son who had unfortunately been born a Squib. With just a few months, Daniel Potter had been adopted by a French Squib couple by the last name of Argent. About twenty years later, Daniel married Hortense Duval, a French muggle-born witch – around the same time that James Potter was born. From their union came Sebastian Argent, a wizard of above-average power, who decided to take his mastery in Wards in the United States after his last living close blood family – his mother – had died of Dragon Pox, only three years after her husband who hadn't survived a rather strong pneumonia. Eventually, Sebastian married Angelique Beaumont, a French witch born and raised in American soil; who both had ultimately Florence.

She decided to register herself as an American witch because of the strenuous political relation between the United States and Great-Britain. The British's arrogance, prejudice and backwards ways were not viewed with good eyes by the other country (and many others). In turn, Great Britain considered the American wizarding world too different from their own, with their progressive customs and non-discrimination among their citizens; be it because of blood or creature status. Due to this fact, if someone wished to search for Florence Peverell, or former Argent, more in depth in the American Ministry of Magic, they would have a very hard time as the Americans naturally distrusted the British because of their well-known corruption, and would by any means defend the information of one of their own from the clutches of someone unfriendly.

''I'd like the services of a first-rate lawyer, as soon as possible,'' Florence requested after that all was filled and filed in their proper places at Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic. ''I intend to press charges against several people and this person can't have any connection to any of them.''

''May I ask who do you intend to sue, Lady Peverell, in addition to the obvious individuals, of course?''

Florence smirked darkly at that. In that expression, the creatures could clearly see that this witch was very dangerous and vindictive and now, with all her newly Ladyships, money and political power, more even so.

''Indeed. The Daily Prophet, especially Rita Skeeter for all the drivel that she has been writing about Harry for more than a year now; the Ministry of Magic, for the unlawful trial of some months ago in front of the full Wizengamot for a mere under-age use of magic transgression; and particularly Dolores Umbridge for sending Dementors to Privet Drive with the order of attacking Harry and at Hogwarts for torturing the boy daily with a Blood Quill,'' she responded grimly.

''A Blood Quill?'', Slowfire asked alarmed.

Florence silently raised her right hand and momentarily removed the glamour from the horrid scars saying 'I must not tell lies'. Both goblins gasped sickened.

Their reaction was completely understandably. Florence had found out, a few years after those dreadful detentions, that she could have had died with such heavy and continued employ of this dark artefact. Blood Quills were very strongly regulated by the Ministry and were only meant to be used when exceptionally necessary, in occasions like claiming one's Lord/Ladyships and very important written contracts. If only used once, the person would merely feel a quick and sharp pain as if sliced by a knife, when the Quill draws the required blood and the magic, which is drawn as well, is not even felt. However, continued use will leave a deep scar, impossible to completely heal by any means (as it is dark), and the steady depleting of one's magical core. Florence had felt sick and livid when she had realized that a few more sessions and she could be turned irreversibly into a Squib or worse, she could have died if her body couldn't endure the strain of being deprived of magic. She had wondered sometimes if that had been Umbridge's true goal.

''That witch is an exceedingly despicable woman,'' Ragnok observed with disgust and a sneer.

''Quite,'' Florence agreed whole-heartedly. ''She hates everyone who isn't a Pureblood and completely human. However, her bigoted campaign will end soon,'' she added with a wicked smirk, which was shared by the goblins. Lately, that horrid woman had been trying to submit laws to further restrain a certain number of magical creatures, such as werewolves and goblins. Though, she will stay in Azkaban for a very long time, if I can help it. She mused, maliciously.

After scanning a few sheets of parchment that had appeared meanwhile on his desk, Ragnok spoke up, pulling Lady Peverell from her wicked thoughts.

''As you wish someone with no ties to the people whom you want to prosecute, I'd suggest Gonzalo Castillo. He's a Spanish barrister with several years of experience and great results achieved,'' the ruler advised, giving her the parchment for her perusal.

Florence hummed to herself as she read through the information. The wizard seemed to be who she really needed: a foreigner with no connections whatsoever to Britain. Without even looking at his demanded remuneration – she was the richest person in Britain, after all – she decided to accept Ragnok's recommendation.

''When is it possible to meet him?''

''As soon as possible, Lady Peverell,'' the teller assured her without hesitation. ''We need only to contact him by Floo. I am certain that he'll not refuse an offer from such a notorious Lady as yourself, when he is aware of all involving details.''

Florence mutely nodded in agreement and Slowfire rushed out of the office to do just that.

''Do you care for some more tea, Lady Peverell?'', Ragnok offered politely. The refreshments brought in early were already cold.

''Yes, thank you.''

The goblin clicked his fingers and a new tray with tea and pastries appeared on the desk. The previous one disappeared a second after that.

Florence sighed almost silently and reached for a teacup. She already felt tired and the sun hadn't even risen in the sky yet. After sipping lightly on the warm and invigorating liquid for a moment, she cast Tempus. 5:12. She had much to do still and no time to rest. Gratefully, she took this little break to relax some of the tension gathered on her shoulders and back, while waiting for Slowfire's return.

They didn't have to wait long. There was a knock on the door and, as soon as Ragnok gave the permission to enter, Slowfire stepped into the room with a middle-aged wizard behind him. The man, who Florence assumed was Gonzalo Castillo, was tall and thin and had dark brown hair and grey eyes behind square-rimmed glasses; he wore a black three-piece suit and blue tie and carried a business briefcase on his left hand.

Florence politely raised herself from her comfortable armchair and confidently greeted the man. Discreetly, she scrutinized him, wanting to figure out this wizard's character.

''Pleased to meet you, Lady Peverell,'' Castillo greeted her, courteously, taking her hand in his and kissing lightly the back of it. ''Slowfire tells me that you have a job offer for me?''

Florence was pleasantly surprised. The man was appropriately respectful though not overly so. She'd not tolerate working with people who ingratiated and grovelled themselves to her. She proceeded to generally explain what she wished that be done legally and the people involved. In the end, the wizard gladly accepted the offer and was given all the information and documentation needed to start drawing the legal papers. Florence relaxed further at that; one less worry in her mind.

After agreeing to meet with her new barrister the next day at Peverell Manor (with the appropriate password to travel through the Floo Network), Florence thanked the goblins for their swift and helpful services and left the bank with her mind already on the next step in her list for that morning.

When she was once again on the dark alley where she had apparated earlier, she summoned the power of the Invisibility Cloak with barely a thought and disapparated silently; only to return to Privet Drive and walk the length of the street in search of any early riser muggle.

Perfect!, she thought, when she saw an old couple accompanied by a dog strolling towards her and number 4. Wandlessly and wordlessly, she cast a light compulsion on the canine when the muggles approached; without a fight, the dog obeyed to her orders and barged in the Dursley's back garden. Its owner quickly followed and barely an instant later, the woman could be heard calling urgently for her husband.

After that, everything progressed the way Florence expected and wanted to. The police and an ambulance were called and the area was sealed; the neighbours gathered, always curious to know what was happening and hoping to gain some juicy gossip which they could discuss about later; the Dursley's were promptly woken by the police officers and Vernon made the police's job easier of finding a suspect and the neighbours' morning even more exciting by ranting and raving about his worthless nephew. The three Dursley's were swiftly put inside a police car and driven to the station; other police officers stayed on the street gathering the rapport from the couple who found Harry Potter and the neighbours' testimonies; and inside the back garden, the experts were investigating the crime scene, after the body was taken away.

Florence didn't even need to use magic to make the inhabitants of Privet Drive talk; it was clear that they were enjoying the situation immensely as they had a great opportunity to talk badly about the Dursley's, even though someone had just died – however almost no one had liked the scrawny Potter boy, so in their minds there was no great loss to them.

These people are really disgusting, she thought with repugnance, still hidden by the Cloak.

When she assumed that enough time had passed, she disapparated with the location of the Ministry of Magic in mind, more particularly directly to the Auror offices of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was not a path really used in times of peace, nevertheless it was there and she had urgency on her side.

Still invisible, she looked quickly around: the offices were still mostly empty at this hour of the morning. By heart, she strode without delay towards Amelia Bones' office; while inside her mind, she prepared herself for her first performing act. She had a very intelligent and sharp witch to slightly deceive.

Upon reaching the hall leading to the wanted office, she dissolved her invisibility and cast a light glamour on her face – making her hair and eyes turn brown as it wouldn't do to be truly seen by someone other than Amelia – and continued her way towards her goal.

''Hello, how can I help you?'', the assistance seated at the desk besides the Department Head asked in an almost bored tone when Florence approached.

''I need to meet with Madam Bones rather urgently, please,'' Florence responded, making her features and voice show a distressed woman.

''Do you have an appointment for this morning, madam?'', the blasted woman asked, as if entirely indifferent by the strange behaviour and Florence's right eye twitched in annoyance.

''Miss, I said that I needed to meet with Madam Bones rather urgently,'' she almost hissed at the other woman in frustration, leaning forward and her eyes glinting dangerously (which were not at all fabricated) seating nonchalantly at the witch in front of her. ''What part of urgent does your diminutive brain not understand?''

The woman gaped at her looking quite offended as if she had never been talked to that way before. By appearances, she seemed to be a Pureblood who had gotten her job by familial connections – and no proper academic qualifications whatsoever – and was used to be fawned over by men, if her figure-hugging clothing and heavy make-up was any indication. In her world, Florence had known many like her; they only took up a job at the Ministry until catching a loaded husband and later never working another day in their lives again. She found that truly revolting. She loathed many things, and being a lazy and spoilt brat was way up on that list, as it always made her remember her pampered pig of a cousin.

When the woman – she still didn't know her name nor did care to – continued there looking as if searching hard for a smart comeback, Florence lost her patience and decided to take the matter in her own hands. With a few steps, she was in front of the door and knocked.