A/N: Thanks to all those who have been reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. I'm happy that so many are enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.

A/N 2: With two exceptions, I'm using the educational decrees that appeared in the book and in the movie, though often with slightly different wording just so I'm not mindlessly copying. The first exception is a change in numbering due to two different decrees (one in the book, one in the movie) having the same number. The second exception is the final decree in chapter 48 — that's my own creation and is, coincidentally, my favorite.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Insidious Inquisitor" by Yunaine. When Umbridge doses Harry with Veritaserum, everything changes... because Umbridge isn't the evil witch we all thought her to be.

Italics: a person's thoughts.

Chapter 16 - The Inquisition

Monday, September 6, 1995, Morning.

It was obvious what Percy Weasley had wanted Ron to see in the Daily Prophet that morning, since the massive headline took up the entire top half of the front page. What exactly it meant, though, was a bit harder for the Gryffindor students to figure out.

MINISTRY TO REFORM HOGWARTS, APPOINTS DOLORES UMBRIDGE AS CHIEF INQUISITOR

"What's a Chief Inquisitor, and who's Dolores Umbridge?" Ron asked.

"Umbridge was one of the people who sat in on our trial," Hermione answered. "Remember the witch in pink that I told you about? She was really nasty, and anything she's involved in can't be good for us."

"Or anyone else," Jasmine added.

"I remember my family talking about zis woman," Gabrielle said. "She is quite ze bigot. She hates everything and everyone she does not zink is fully human."

Luna pulled the newspaper away from Ron and began reading it aloud so all of them could hear. "Late last night, the Ministry of Magic issued Educational Decree #23, creating the post of Chief Inquisitor for Wizarding Britain's educational system. Dolores Umbridge, the lovely and vivacious Chief Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic, was immediately named to the post, which she will begin filling today."

"Late night decrees?" Hermione asked. "That doesn't sound ominous, does it?"

"According to Cornelius Fudge, our stalwart Minister for Magic," Luna continued, "this is just the latest move in the Ministry's efforts to exercise greater control over the nation's education generally and a failing Hogwarts specifically. 'Standards at Hogwarts have dropped to abysmal levels,' Minister Fudge told reporters. 'I've had numerous parents all around Britain complain to my office, and once I investigated, I was horrified at what I discovered. Some problems were only brought to light last year during the Triwizard Tournament when the champions complained publicly about how the school was being run.' This newspaper has repeatedly tried to investigate the many allegations that were made in the wake of the second task last year, but without any luck."

Hermione groaned. "I can't believe that our telling people about how many problems have existed in this school is now being used as an excuse by the Ministry to come in here!" When she looked over at the Hufflepuff table, she could see that Cedric Diggory looked just as bad as she felt — and possibly worse, since he was the one who had made most of the accusations the article spoke of.

"Don't blame yourself, Hermione," Neville said firmly. "You two brought attention to genuine problems in this school, and you can't control who uses that information against the Headmaster. Or how they use it. Ultimately, it's his fault for allowing the problems to fester." Hermione nodded, but sagged a little in her seat, still unhappy.

Luna resumed her recitation. "Newly-appointed Chief Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge told reporters that she will make a careful inspection of Hogwarts, keeping what is still valuable while removing that which no longer serves the interests of a proper British magical education. 'Everyone and everything will be carefully evaluated,' she told reporters. 'Every teacher, every lesson plan, every staff member, and every policy. Nothing will be ignored; everything will be inspected. Including the students, too, of course. We don't want anyone's children to be put at risk by violent rulebreakers.' When asked if Headmaster Albus Dumbledore would also be subjected to evaluation, Chief Inquisitor Umbridge smiled prettily and assured us that he would be getting the most rigorous inspection possible."

"After all he's done, I hate that I'm actually feeling sorry for Dumbledore," Neville said.

"Despite all he's done," Jasmine pointed out, "he's not the worst we could be dealing with." Hermione shivered slightly as she remembered her conversation with Professor McGonagall about house elves.

"Say, Luna?" Jasmine said. "The next issue of The Quibbler is formatted and ready to go, right? No way to add anything new?"

Luna shook her head. "No, it's probably in the middle of printing now. Why?"

Jasmine gestured to the paper she was reading. "I was thinking that this story is probably one that deserves an alternative perspective — one not from the Ministry, that is."

"It's too soon to say much," Hermione pointed out. "But depending on what happens, we may be in a perfect position to report on what the Ministry is doing."

Luna looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I'll write to Daddy and let him know. If he agrees, he'll reserve some space in the October issue. There should still be some room alongside what we're already writing, though I know he's eagerly awaiting a field report about a possible crumplehorn snorkack sighting in Borneo."

She then returned her attention to the Daily Prophet and went on: "As readers of this newspaper know, the aged Albus Dumbledore was relieved of his offices of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW this past summer. Many witches and wizards are wondering if perhaps he's gotten too old to handle so much responsibility, including administering the education of our young people. 'Albus Dumbledore was once a great wizard,' Percy Weatherby, the devilishly handsome Junior Assistant to the Minister, told us in a private interview, 'but his time is long past. Hogwarts needs to be brought in step with the Ministry and thus needs a Headmaster whose thinking and policies are in line with those of the Minister. Chief Inquisitor Umbridge will be able to determine if Dumbledore is such a person, or if we need to get rid of the old in order to make room for the new.' Not everyone is quite so enthusiastic about what the Minister is doing, but the Office of the Minister of Magic has shown us secret evidence that all of those criticizing his new policies have links to dangerous, subversive organizations like werewolf sympathizers."

"That git!" Ron said. "And I thought he couldn't get any worse after that letter last night, but this..."

"This is appalling, is what it is!" Hermione exclaimed. "There's no real justification for anything in that article — it's a pack of lies! How can they print such garbage?"

Before anyone could answer her, the doors to the Great Hall thudded open as a large contingent of official-looking witches and wizards strode in, heading for the staff table. "Headmaster Dumbledore," came a simpering voice from within the crowd. "I am the Chief Inquisitor. Here is my authorization to move into the castle and begin inspecting the education, facilities, and policies in this school." A hand attached to a pink-clad arm reached up and out of the crowd, placing a piece of parchment on the table in front of Dumbledore.

The Headmaster looked down at the parchment as if it were a five-day dead rat that someone had just dropped onto his breakfast. He read it, reluctantly, but didn't bother to pick it up. He simply extended a single finger and pushed it back towards the woman who had been speaking. "Professor McGonagall," he said to his deputy sitting next to him, "please organize one of the castle's rooms for Madam Umbridge."

"It's Chief Inquisitor Umbridge now, if you please," the simpering voice announced.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore said absently, not even pretending to be impressed. "Why don't we go to my office to... discuss your duties."

"I think that would be an excellent idea," she responded. The crowd of Ministry employees parted so she could walk to the side entrance, and all the students got their first look at the woman: short, squat, and pink. "She reminds me of a female Trevor," was the first thing Neville said, eliciting several snorts of amusement from around the Gryffindor table.

"Except without his fashion sense," Ginny put in.

"And this started out like it was going to be a pretty decent year," Jasmine complained.

"I've heard her name mentioned a few times," Daphne was saying quietly at the Slytherin table, "but I don't really know anything about her. Do either of you?" Both of her friends shook their heads. "We'll have to write home to see what our parents know. Thank Merlin she isn't going to be teaching here — that would be a nightmare!"

"What about our housemates?" Tracey asked. "Some of them might know something useful."

"Maybe, but after our confrontation with Malfoy at the end of last term, some of them might be wary of us," Daphne responded.

"Actually, that would be worth knowing," offered Blaise. "The ones most likely to avoid us are the ones who know that You-Know-Who is back and don't want to anger him by being too close to the wrong people. Conversely, anyone trying to suck up to us is almost certainly spying. The rest probably don't have close contacts to You-Know-Who's followers and so are likely alright."

Tracey eyed him with new appreciation. "That's really insightful."

Blaise shrugged. "It won't be true in every case — we still have to be cautious. But it's a good starting place."

"I agree," Daphne said. "First we write home, then we start making discreet inquiries around Slytherin."

"That's in addition to keeping an eye on Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle," Tracey reminded the others.

"You haven't been able to get anything out of Pansy, have you?" Blaise asked.

Tracey shook her head. "She's even more closed off now than she was at the end of last term. She's not hostile anymore, just scared. Too scared to be helpful right now."

"Don't pressure her," Blaise suggested, "but make sure she knows that you're available to talk. She might open up eventually — especially if she doesn't have anywhere else to turn."

Monday, September 6, 1995, Evening.

"Cornelius! Cornelius!" Umbridge called. She'd had to switch rooms three times before she was finally given one with a working floo connection. It had kept her busy the entire day, and she was positive that that had been the point. Or maybe it had been simply to annoy her. Either way, they had succeeded, but she knew she'd have her revenge — and sooner rather than later.

First, though, she desperately needed to speak to Cornelius.

"Cornelius!" she called through the floo once more.

"What is it?" came a querulous response at last. "Dolores? Is that you?"

"Yes, Cornelius, it's me," Umbridge responded. "I need to talk to you."

"What's the matter?" Fudge asked as he strode around his desk so he could face his fireplace. "You only just got there this morning. Why are you bothering me already?"

Umbridge hesitated briefly at his tone of voice, but she decided it must just be the result of the distortion created by old floo connections. "I found out who Dumbledore hired as the Defense professor, Cornelius. You wouldn't believe it, but she isn't even human! She's just a creature — and a French creature, too!"

"Oh, my," Fudge replied, perking up. "I had heard some rumors, but I didn't... I mean, I couldn't believe that even Dumbledore... well, no matter." He walked back to his desk and started flipping through some parchment. "If it's just some creature, there are ways to get rid of her."

Umbridge smiled broadly, once more looking forward to taking over the Defense position. I'll make sure that creature is soundly punished for usurping something that should have gone to a pureblood, she mused. I wonder if there are any equipped dungeons here in the castle that I can use? Or maybe the Department of Mysteries can use her for some experiments?

"What's the creature's name?" Fudge asked, interrupting Umbridge's happy thoughts.

"Uh, it's Delacour," Umbridge responded, "Fleur Delacour."

Even through the haze of the floo connection, she could see the Minister for Magic pale. "D-d-delacour?" He asked. "A veela? From France?"

"Yes, that's her," Umbridge answered. "Surely you don't know her?"

Fudge slumped back in his seat and shoved the parchment he'd been looking at off his desk. "Not personally, no, but I know the name and family." He then turned to face the fireplace and continued with a shout, "And so should you, you stupid witch!"

Umbridge was dumbfounded at his reaction. "What do you mean? Why should I know this creature's family?"

Fudge clutched at his head in exasperation. "Don't you remember that delegation from the continent that came here in the spring? That French family that was so angry with Dumbledore?"

"Well," Umbridge answered slowly, "I seem to remember that the family that brought the complaints against Dumbledore was French. That's where we started being able to make our case against him, but honestly, I never paid much attention beyond that. They were only French, after all — who can keep all those cheese-eating squibs straight?"

Fudge rolled his eyes heavenward. "Well, the family in question happens to be the Delacours. Yes, they are veela, and as it turns out, they're well connected with the French magical government. So well connected, in fact, that in response to the youngest daughter being used in the second task of that blasted tournament, we had to deal with angry representatives from not only France, but also Spain, Germany, Italy, Greece, and several other countries! For a while there, I was worried that we'd be embargoed by the entire European continent over that incident!"

"But... but..." Umbridge stammered.

"You will not touch her!" Fudge declared. "If she violates the law or the school rules for staff, then maybe you can do something — but it would have to be a clear violation of a serious rule, otherwise we won't be able to justify taking harsh actions."

Umbridge barely suppressed a whimper, seeing her newly-resurrected dreams of becoming Defense professor shatter once more before her eyes.

"Now I have to go," Fudge said curtly. "I have an appalling amount of work that I have to finish before I can go home tonight." And with that, the floo connection was abruptly closed.

Umbridge rose from her kneeling position and walked to the other side of the tiny room, where she dropped heavily into a pink-cushioned chair. This is only a setback, she consoled herself. A temporary setback. I'll have to keep my distance from that creature for a few days, but once I've calmed down I'll start inspecting her and her classes. There's no way that she isn't violating all sorts of rules, probably seducing pureblood wizards in class because she can sense their power and is seeking their vital essence. She has to be stopped before she saps and corrupts all of our bodily fluids!

Tuesday, September 7, 1995. Late Morning.

The grim expression on Professor McGonagall's face as she sealed and silenced the classroom door told the two younger witches that they hadn't been held back after Transfiguration for a social chat. She motioned for them to sit up at the front as she herself sat behind her own desk. "I know that you, like all the other students, read that article in yesterday's paper," she began, "and you were also there yesterday morning at breakfast when that... when Chief Inquisitor Umbridge arrived." Jasmine and Hermione nodded.

"So you know that there are going to be problems here at Hogwarts," she continued. "I'm afraid that the situation is probably much worse than you know."

"How bad can it be?" Hermione asked.

McGonagall sighed. "It's bad enough that the Headmaster himself instructed me to warn you. That woman is making all sorts of claims on behalf of herself and her powers, some of which are surely just fantasy. But... well, I wouldn't be surprised if the only reason that they are still fantasy is because she and the Minister haven't yet enacted their full agenda. The simple fact is, she's here to bring the school into line with what the Minister wants."

"And what Fudge wants is whatever serves his personal interests," Jasmine added.

"Too true," McGonagall responded, "and it looks like Fudge is working to give her whatever power she needs to pursue that goal. Right now it simply involves 'inspecting' the staff, but I expect that it will soon include the ability to fire and hire as well."

Both younger witches gasped at the implications. "That means everyone's job is at risk!" Hermione said.

"In theory, yes," McGonagall said, "but in practice most probably don't have to worry — at least, not right away. It all comes down to what the Ministry regards as most important. Binns, for example, is hardly a good teacher and so would unlikely pass any honest, objective inspection, but his constant focus on rebellions by evil, treacherous goblins will probably be deemed as an important contribution to wizarding education. So I expect he'll be fine."

"If being a bad teacher is less important than being politically useful," Hermione said, "won't the opposite be true as well? Won't being a good teacher be irrelevant if you're politically unreliable? Will you be safe?" The desperate worry in the brunette witch's voice was unmistakable.

"I don't expect to have trouble any time soon," McGonagall reassured her. "My record here will go quite a ways towards protecting me. There is also the fact that they'd be hard pressed to find someone to replace me, given how I have three important positions here. I think this may be the first time I've ever been happy to be overworked and stretched thin." This elicited sad smiles from her students.

"Regardless," she continued, "I didn't ask you to stay behind in order to talk about me or to gossip about the other staff. I wanted to talk about the two of you, because you are in much more danger than I or probably anyone else here."

"We figured that she'd try to find some way to make things difficult for us," Jasmine replied, "but what can she do?"

"Quite a lot, I'm afraid," McGonagall said soberly. "As Chief Inquisitor, she has the same power and authority as anyone on staff — which means she can take points and assign detentions. Her mandate includes the entire school, which means she'll be moving around. You may encounter her anywhere, at any time, rather than simply in specific classes. If she's planning on targeting the two of you — something which the Headmaster assures me is the case, based on comments she made in their private meeting — then you can assume that she'll learn your schedules and make a point of running into you whenever she can."

The girls looked at each other in growing alarm.

"And this is only the beginning," McGonagall continued grimly. "We can assume that she'll grab more and more power as time goes on — especially if she finds that her current power does not get her what she wants. Right now she cannot, for example, suspend or expel any students, but I have no doubt that she'd like to be able to do so because if she can expel either one of you before you sit for your OWLs..."

"Then the Ministry can snap our wands and bind our magic," Jasmine finished for her.

McGonagall nodded. "Since that appears to have been their goal for your trial, we have to assume that they will be trying to do the same thing again, just via different means."

"What can we do?" Hermione asked. "Can we... can we avoid her? Can we be protected from her?"

McGonagall shook her head in resignation. "I'm sorry, but the situation is quite precarious. If anyone on staff — even the Headmaster — makes too overt of a move to protect you, we expect that that will be used to justify yet another power grab which will allow her to do whatever she wanted in the first place, but with the added benefit of punishing whoever helped you. We'll act if things get too bad, but for now our efforts will be focused on finding a way of getting rid of her completely. In the meantime, you two need to keep your heads down and avoid any sort of confrontation with her. You must also avoid breaking any rules, just in case she is nearby. You don't want to be alone with her if you can help it."

Jasmine and Hermione exchanged a look, worry plainly evident on their faces. "Okay, Professor, we'll do our best," Jasmine finally said.

"See that you do," the older witch replied sternly. Taking that as a dismissal, the girls gathered up their things and left for lunch.

As soon as they were gone, Minerva's stern expression evaporated, only to be replaced by the very real fear she was feeling. I know I need to protect them, she thought, but if I act too soon, I risk being removed entirely; if I act too late... I don't even want to think about what that might mean.

Thursday, September 9, 1995, Late Morning.

When Jasmine and Hermione reached their Potions classroom, they found the door shut and the other students all waiting outside — just as had always been the case when Snape taught, but quite unlike how Dumbledore handled things. "Does this mean what I think it means?" Jasmine quietly asked her friends.

Before any of them could answer, the door slammed open and Snape strode out, glaring at everyone. Jasmine immediately noticed how tired and gaunt he seemed, making his already unpleasant-looking face even worse. "What are you dunderheads waiting for?" he half-shouted. "Get inside and find your seats!"

None of the Gryffindors had any idea what to expect from Potions. The class had been educational and even a bit enjoyable when taught by Dumbledore, but now Snape was back and angrier than ever. Yet at the same time, Malfoy's absence could only be counted as an improvement, and the reactions of the Slytherins to Snape's behavior suggested that they were feeling cowed and uncertain as well. Might this be a net gain in the end?

Any meager hope for a class that wasn't too terrible was dashed when Chief Inquisitor Umbridge walked in during Snape's opening instructions. "Hem, hem," she announced herself in her sickly sweet voice. "Professor Snape? I'll be sitting in and evaluating this class. You don't mind, do you?" The Potions professor's narrowed eyes made it clear that he definitely did mind, but he knew as well as anyone that the question had been rhetorical.

Rather than dignify her query with an answer, however, he simply nodded at a chair in the corner and returned to his instructions, though he seemed to be a bit stiffer than before. No one missed the sound of a quill scratching on parchment coming from the back corner, and everyone wondered what she could be writing already.

Jasmine and Hermione would have behaved cautiously even without McGonagall's warning, simply because Snape was so obviously on edge. Thus they worked as quietly and carefully as possible, hoping not to attract any negative attention. That wasn't hard for Hermione, who always did well in Potions, but for Jasmine, inevitably, it was a lost cause.

As usual, Snape stalked around the class while students prepared ingredients. There was far less sneering and verbal abuse, though, and he seemed to channel his normally abusive behavior into quiet mutterings.

Until he got to Jasmine's desk.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he demanded. "You're supposed to use a julienne cut for the mountain troll brains and a brunoise cut for the swamp troll brains, not the other way around! What you've done will turn your Wit Enhancing Potion into useless sludge!"

Jasmine looked down at her prep station and blinked in confusion. I was sure that I did the cutting correctly, she thought. But even if I didn't, how would he be able to tell? The brains look exactly the same!

"And what did you do to those old crow's feet?" he continued. "They're supposed to be finely shaved, not grated!"

Before Jasmine could protest, he picked something up from the floor at her feet. "And what's this?" he brought it up close to his face and sniffed deeply. "Steamed acromantula eyeball? That's not on the ingredients list for this potion. In fact, if it were added to this recipe it would cause the potion to explode in a cloud of toxic gas! Are you trying to get everyone in this room killed?"

Jasmine wanted to protest that she had no idea where the eyeball had come from — she'd never seen it before, honestly — but a noise from the back of the room interrupted her train of thought. "Hem, hem."

Snape stopped his ranting and cast a cold glare back at the pink-clad Chief Inquisitor. Without a word, he raised one questioning eyebrow.

"It sounds like Miss Potter is creating a danger in your class, Professor Snape," Umbridge said.

Snape sneered and finally deigned to speak to her. "No more than usual. While not quite as much of a menace as Longbottom and his regularly exploding cauldrons, she is one of the least capable students I've ever had the misfortune to teach. Combined with her predisposition to cause trouble and break the rules, it's always a chore to teach any class with her in it." Both girls were fuming by now and were only just holding back from trying to argue with him.

"Perhaps she needs to be removed for the safety of others," Umbridge responded. Jasmine and Hermione turned around to see a wide, pleased smile on the woman's face. Not only did it not make her look any better, but Jasmine felt that it only served to increase the similarities between her and a large, ugly toad.

"There's no need for that," Snape said quickly, apparently trying to backtrack from the vehemence of his earlier comments. "As a Potions Master, I have little difficulty in restraining her and ensuring everyone's safety."

"Oh?" Umbridge asked skeptically. "That's not what the records indicate. Just last term, in fact, you deducted points from Miss Potter for sabotaging another student's work — an act that caused horrific injuries to two fine, upstanding students of excellent breeding."

Snape scowled at the memory of that day. "That was... an exception," he said. "Normally, there are few accidents and even fewer injuries. The safety record of this class improved significantly once I took over, and I have maintained the highest standards."

"Be that as it may," Umbridge said, "It sounds like Miss Potter has failed to heed any of your warnings or instructions. I will have to make a notation about that. If you finally get tired of her and want her removed, though, you just need to let me know. The same goes for any of her violent, dangerous, and immoral friends, too." She was looking right at Hermione when she said this, and her meaning was unmistakable.

Snape sneered and resumed his stalking around the room, though he avoided even looking at Jasmine and Hermione again, never mind talking to them. Somehow Jasmine managed to produce a potion she thought might be good enough to get an A and sighed in relief as she packed up her stuff. Before she and Hermione could leave, though, they were waylaid by Umbridge.

"I know how dangerous the two of you are," she said in a sickly-sweet voice that still managed to be full of hatred and menace. "You're a threat to the Minister, which means you're a threat to the Ministry. In fact, you're a threat to our culture and entire way of life."

"That's... that's..." Hermione tried to protest, forgetting McGonagall's instructions when faced with such blatant stupidity.

"That's the way things are in the wizarding world," Umbridge interrupted her. "You'd know that if you weren't a mudblood who's trying to corrupt our society. Our existence depends on preserving the Statute of Secrecy, a wall that's weakened every time we allow one of your kind into our world. We cannot hope to preserve the Statute of Secrecy, though, if we do not have a strong, powerful Ministry that is trusted by the people. And for that, we need a strong, powerful Minister. Your lies and violent behavior threaten all of that — they threaten everything we depend upon."

Umbridge leaned in close and said softly, "That's why you are both so dangerous, and that's why I'm going to see you removed from wizarding Britain. One way or another." She straightened up and smiled again before saying, "Have a lovely day, then."

Jasmine just stared at her retreating back. "Can a witch still be a Dark Lady if she wears pink?" she wondered aloud.

Thursday, September 9, 1995, Late Night.

Jasmine and Hermione had already been waiting for half an hour when Sirius' head finally appeared in the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. "Sirius!" Jasmine whispered. "Where have you been! Your letter yesterday said that you'd floo-call us at midnight! We were getting so worried!"

"Sorry," Sirius replied, "but there was an unexpected Order meeting tonight and it ran late."

"As long as you're alright," Jasmine said. "So what's going on? Why did you need to talk to us?"

"I wanted to give you a warning about Umbridge," Sirius said. "A couple of the Black family portraits have heard some disturbing things from their frames in the Ministry. Unfortunately we don't have anyone in the Minister's own offices, but there have been a few revealing conversations that the portraits were able to overhear. The stated purpose of inspecting Hogwarts is true, but it's not the only reason she's there. "

"One of her reasons for being here is to find a way to expel us from Hogwarts and thus from wizarding Britain entirely," Hermione said flatly.

"Oh," Sirius responded, seeming a little deflated that his big news wasn't actually news at all. "I guess you already figured that out?"

"Professor McGonagall warned us on Tuesday that that was likely the case," Jasmine answered. "But the Pink Toad Lady basically admitted it to our faces earlier today. According to her, threatening the popularity of the Minister threatens the stability of the Ministry, which threatens the Statute of Secrecy and all of wizarding society."

"Yeah," Sirius said with a sigh, "that matches up with what the portraits were able to tell me. She's a real piece of work, apparently. Dangerous, too. You need to be careful around her. I doubt that there's much she wouldn't do in order to eliminate you two."

Hermione frowned. "If she's that ruthless and amoral, do you think she might have had something to do with the dementors coming after Jasmine? We suspect someone at the Ministry, since Voldemort hadn't gotten them to defect yet at the time."

"Good point," Sirius agreed. "I'll see what I can do to find any evidence that points in that direction."

Jasmine shivered at the idea that a woman like Umbridge would hate her enough to actively want her dead — or soulless, which was arguably much worse. "As if it weren't bad enough that I already have Voldemort after me."

"Don't worry," Sirius said, "I'll do everything I can to help. So will the Black portraits — you should have seen how my mother ranted and raved once we found out what Umbridge was up to. As angry as she was at Skeeter last term, that's nothing compared to how furious she is now at Umbridge. I swear, I thought I saw her portrait warp slightly as if she were trying to step out of it, she wanted to curse that vile woman so badly." Hermione frowned at this and remembered that she'd never gotten around to researching magical portraits as she had intended to.

"Is the escape plan you made for us before the trial still viable?" Jasmine asked. "Given what's happening here, we may still need it."

"Yep, it's still viable, and we can activate it with as little as two hours' notice," Sirius assured her.

"Good," Jasmine said. "I hope we never have to use it, but knowing that it's there makes me feel better."

"Well, you two should get to bed, it's late," Sirius finally said. "I'm glad for the chance to talk to you, but your studies this year are more important than ever."

After saying their goodbyes, the two witches made their way up to their dorm, both lost in thought, though for different reasons.

Friday, September 10, 1995, Morning.

Amelia Bones looked grimly across her desk at Moira O'Connor and Rufus Scrimgeour. All three had been struggling for weeks to come up with some way to get certain investigations past the Minister's office, including especially the long-delayed trial for Sirius Black, but they'd yet to have much luck. Every time they thought they were making progress, other, more pressing matters interfered, or else the Minister himself managed to throw a spanner into their efforts.

Now, though, Minister Fudge's biggest supporter and attack dog was in Hogwarts and would remain there for the foreseeable future.

"It doesn't solve our problems," O'Connor said, agreeing with Bones' assessment, "but it's a huge step in the right direction. There are others here in the Ministry who will continue trying to block us, but everything we've managed to uncover points to her as the driving force behind most of it. Even Fudge probably doesn't know how much she's done."

"I'd say that's pretty certain," Scrimgeour interjected. "While Fudge and his other supporters will continue trying to block us, they won't be nearly as effective." He paused for a moment, then added, "Well, except for one area: getting an actual trial held."

Bones nodded. "That's where the Minister still has a lot of direct, personal power. He can block a trial in several ways, some of which could be implemented at the last minute, just when Black is helpless and in Ministry custody." Her expression grew bleak. "I think we all know that probably wouldn't turn out well for him."

"So we need to get the Minister out of the Ministry for a while," suggested O'Connor.

"Easier said than done," Bones replied. "He's never been a workaholic, but he's started working long hours this week. He's probably trying to make up for some of the work that he never realized Umbridge did for him."

"Then we'll just have to keep an eye out for good opportunities," Scrimgeour said. "Sooner or later, something will happen that will draw him out — something too tempting for him to resist."

Bones nodded again, thinking about what in all of magical Britain might interest Fudge enough to get him out of the Ministry for at least a day.

Friday, September 10, 1995. Late Morning.

Like the previous Friday, Jasmine and Hermione were held back after Defense class, but this time Fleur had different reasons. "Before zis class," she explained after silencing and sealing the door, "I was visited by a house elf who asked me to get you two alone."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "Dobby?" she called out. With a pop, Dobby appeared in front of the two Gryffindor witches. "Oh, Dobby!" Jasmine said as she knelt down to hug him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Dobby said, ears flapping. "Winky and Dobby be finding second passage, but we can only be going out, not back in. So Winky still be in nasty Chamber, waiting for Dobby."

"Where is the exit?" Hermione asked.

"Door be down in the dungeon," Dobby said. "Come, Dobby show!" Fleur was curious about what was going on, but more importantly, as a member of staff she could provide official cover in case they were seen by the wrong people. Fortunately, the fact that it was lunch time meant that the corridors were mostly empty as they made their way down, deeper into the bowels of the castle, where Dobby led them to a dark alcove in a little-used corridor.

Hermione and Fleur provided light while Jasmine searched the stones until she came across a small carving of a snake. By focusing on it, she said "Open" in parseltongue, which caused the entire back wall of the alcove to shift backwards a few feet, then sideways, revealing a dark stairwell.

"Winky!" Hermione called out, and her house elf popped in front of them.

"Dobby, youse be returning with Missy Jazzy and Missy Hermy!" she said happily.

"Well, it looks like you can leave this way without my help, but you'll still need me to get down there," Jasmine said, only slightly disappointed. At least no one who knew about this passage would be trapped down there unnecessarily, and fetching someone from here was easier than going down through the other tunnel.

"How's it going with the project?" Hermione asked.

"Most of the big snakey be harvested, Missy Hermy," Winky answered.

"How much of it was still salvageable?" Jasmine asked.

"Skin, bones, teeth, and venom all still be mostly good," Dobby answered. "But rest of big snakey be in bad shape. We not be getting much from its innards."

"Do you need anything to continue?" Hermione asked. When both elves insisted that they were fine and had only wanted to let their mistresses know about the second passage they'd discovered, the witches gave the elves another hug and let them return to the Chamber to continue working — they estimated they'd need at least another week before they'd be finished.

"What will you do with it once it is harvested?" Fleur asked.

"We hadn't decided," Hermione started to say, but she was quickly interrupted by Jasmine.

"Actually, I was thinking that it — either the actual harvested parts or the money from selling them — could be used to further our, uh, larger project." When the other two witches gave her confused looks, Jasmine clarified, "You know, the one we learned about in August. The Predire project." Comprehension dawned, and Fleur promised to write to her family to find out if there were any particularly good uses for the basilisk parts they were likely to have available.

Friday, September 10, 1995, Late Night.

Albus Dumbledore was once again up late finishing some parchment work when an unfamiliar owl entered his office. Suspicious at getting such a late and unexpected letter, he cast several detection charms before he accepted it and allowed the owl to fly away. His suspicion turned to surprise and curiosity when he saw who the letter was from and what she wanted. Not seeing any reason to object, he cast the requisite spells on his fireplace, brought two glasses and his current bottle of aged firewhiskey to the small table at the side of his office, then sat and waited.

It was only fifteen minutes later when the fireplace flared green and Amelia Bones stepped into the headmaster's office. "Amelia," Dumbledore said as he stood to greet her. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Please, have a seat." He motioned her to take a seat at the table, then poured both of them a measure of firewhiskey.

"Thank you for opening your floo to me," Bones said without picking up the glass.

"Think nothing of it," he responded, "I am, however, quite curious about what would bring you to my office so late — and from your home floo connection, too, rather than from your Ministry office."

"It's Fudge and his obstructionism," Bones explained. "As you know, he's been preventing the DMLE from adequately pursuing investigations into anything connected with Miss Potter or what happened to her in the graveyard. And that hasn't changed in the past month."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had hoped that without Lucius there to whisper poison into his ears, he'd be more amenable to seeing reason. Alas, that has not come to pass. I am sorry that I was unable to help you acquire more funding for your efforts. Or even to sway very many others to see the importance of the work you've been doing."

"That's quite alright, I know you tried," Bones responded. "Unfortunately, it seems that Fudge has simply replaced one master with another. I've gotten reports that Thaddeus Nott has been making frequent visits to the Minister's offices."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "that might explain a lot." He hid a troubled frown, wondering why Severus hadn't brought him any information about what Nott was doing with the Minister.

"I believe that the key to breaking Fudge's stranglehold is Sirius Black," Bones said. "If we can get Black a trial, then Fudge's efforts at misdirection will collapse because Black has been his primary means of distraction. This will allow us to point official investigations where they need to go instead of wasting time hunting an innocent man. What's more, once people learn that Black was innocent all along — of everything, not just the most recent allegations — then Fudge's credibility will take a significant hit. That will hurt his political capital, giving the DMLE even more room to maneuver. Finally, if Black is healthy enough to take his family's seat on the Wizengamot, I suspect he'd be only too happy to help us if it meant working against Fudge."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and took a small sip of firewhiskey — just enough to produce a little smoke, but not enough to cause him to belch fire. "That sounds like a reasonable assessment of the situation. But how do you propose to hold a trial for Sirius? You've been trying since the end of last term, if I'm not mistaken."

"True," Bones admitted, "but circumstances have potentially changed in our favor — specifically, Umbridge being assigned to do Fudge's bidding here at Hogwarts. I know that she must be an annoyance, but so long as she's causing you trouble here, she's not causing me trouble at the Ministry. Her absence means that a lot of the obstacles I'd normally run into will be significantly weaker."

Dumbledore smiled ruefully. "Our loss is your gain, I suppose. Alright, that's one step, but it's obviously not enough, otherwise you wouldn't be here. What else do you need?"

"Fudge himself is the other major obstacle," Bones answered. "As Minister, he has a lot of discretion when it comes to everything surrounding a trial. If you can remove him, I can organize a trial on pretty short notice — a couple of hours, in fact, if I'm lucky."

"Remove?" Dumbledore asked, and even his implacable facade of calm was shaken. "Amelia, surely you can't—"

"No! No, Merlin, not that!" Bones quickly said. "I simply want him out of the Ministry for a while — a day, at least, in order to organize and hold a trial. Two days would be even better because it might allow us to sneak through a few other things."

Dumbledore relaxed, feeling relieved that he wasn't being asked to assassinate a head of state. "I can see where that would help. I'm not sure, though, why you think I can accomplish this for you."

"I'm not sure either, but you're my best bet," Bones admitted. "With Umbridge gone, he's spending more and more hours in the Ministry, probably trying to do the work she took care of. We need something tempting to get him out of his office for any length of time, and I think Hogwarts is it — him sending Umbridge here demonstrates how much importance he places on the school."

"Ah," Dumbledore replied. "So you're hoping that something can be engineered, or some event can be tweaked, to give Cornelius a reason to want to come out here."

"Exactly," Bones said. "I suspect that it would be best if the request came from Umbridge. He obviously trusts her, so if she's calling for him, I think he'll come running. Then, once you have him, find ways to keep him here for as long as possible."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll admit that at the moment I can't think of anything sufficiently compelling to lure him in, but I promise I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Bones said as she finally picked up the glass of firewhiskey and took a sip. "I appreciate your help."

"You are familiar with the use of a patronus for sending messages, I trust?" Dumbledore said. When Bones nodded, he continued, "If I am able to arrange events to help you, I'll send you my phoenix patronus with the message 'flame.' Once he shows up, I'll send another patronus with the message 'moth.' If he insists on leaving and I can't hold him anymore, I'll send the message 'flight.' All that should be sufficiently obscure if anyone is near you."

Bones smiled at that idea. "Excellent, I think that will work perfectly." Once she finished her firewhiskey she stood to leave. Before going through the floo, she turned and said to the headmaster, "I know that Black wasn't the one who organized the Azkaban breakout, but I'm concerned about who it was. You know, don't you?" Dumbledore nodded. "Was it... him? You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," he said regretfully. "I'm afraid it was."

"Damn," she said as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace. "One more reason we need to get rid of Fudge as soon as possible." With a flash of green flames, she was gone.

"Oh, the situation is even worse than you realize," he said to an empty room as he finished his drink.