A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been 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.

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

Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Harry the Hufflepuff," by BajaB. Sorted into Hufflepuff, Harry Potter works hard at just one thing: finding ways to not have to work hard at anything else. Laziness is taken to an all new level!

Chapter 27 - You Can't Always Get What You Want

Tuesday, November 9, 1995, Late Morning.

"No! I'm not going to do it!"

"You simply must! A Yule ball is expected of someone of your station!"

"I don't care! I've never cared!"

"And look where that got you!"

"Which is why I'm making changes — but that isn't one of them! I'm focusing on what's important!

"Mingling with other members of the noble families is important!"

"Not to me! What's important is family!"

Sirius took a deep breath in preparation for his next retort, and then... had to let it out because his mother didn't say anything. Instead, she simply looked at him curiously, then took a step back and sat down in the chair in her portrait.

"Family?" she asked at a normal volume.

"Yes," Sirius answered. "Family."

"Very well," Walburga said. "A family Yule and Christmas, then?"

"Just family and close friends," Sirius affirmed. "Though since the Order is still using this place as headquarters, I can't exclude the odd member from passing through or kipping on a spare bed. But for the important times, it will be family and close friends."

"Who do you have in mind?" Walburga asked.

"Well, Jasmine of course," Sirius replied, staring off into space as he tried to compose a list. "I figure Andromeda and her family, Ted and Nymphadora."

"What about...?"

"No, not her," Sirius said. "She's not healthy enough yet — and I don't think she'd exactly fit in. But I'll try to stop by and visit her, at least. She doesn't deserve to have no one but Kreature as company during the holidays." Walburga nodded. "Remus, of course," Sirius continued. "I don't know what the Weasleys will be doing, but I expect that at least a couple will stop by."

"And what about Miss Granger?" Walburga asked, one eyebrow arched. "I notice you didn't mention her."

"Oh... well, I, uh, figured that she'd spend the holidays with her parents in France," Sirius said, a bit confused. "Even I probably would, if my family lived in the south of France."

Walburga shook her head slowly with an expression that was almost pitying. "And do you honestly think Jasmine Dorea would stay here for more than five minutes if she knew her... friend was in France?"

Sirius stared at his mother, dumbfounded. "You think Jasmine would pick Hermione over me?"

"I think you should be smart enough to not put her in a position where she'd be forced to choose," Walburga said. "And you can easily avoid that by simply inviting the young witch to spend the holidays here."

"But... her family?" Sirius protested.

"Yes, you'll need to invite them here as well," Walburga said in a tone that said her patience was wearing thin.

Sirius kept staring at her, more confused than ever. "But... but... they're muggles! You hate muggles!"

"Yes?" she asked.

"Now you're suggesting that I invite them to spend the holidays with us?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Who are you? And what have you done with my evil mother?"

Walburga rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm the evil witch — so you've told me. I have no great desire to see muggles wandering through our noble halls—"

"Now that's more like it," Sirius muttered.

"—but I have to accept that Jasmine Dorea won't want to stay here without her friend, and unfortunately having Miss Granger stay means bringing in her parents as well. I may not be happy about that, but I am pragmatic enough to accept it."

Sirius continued to stare at her, though looking a lot less confused. "Fine, that makes sense. In fact, I could make it a surprise for Hermione — I won't tell her anything, I'll invite her parents and have them waiting for her when she arrives. It will be like an early Christmas present for her."

"I'm glad to see that you'll have fun with it," Walburga said. "However, that doesn't let you off the hook for having some sort of society gala." Sirius frowned, but she pushed on. "Now that you've been cleared of all criminal charges, you need to start renewing the family's social and political connections. You'll also probably need to make a lot of new ones, too. You need to do this for yourself, for the family, and most especially for Jasmine Dorea."

Sirius sagged a bit in his seat. "Do you think she wants something like that?"

"If she's anything like you, I'm sure she'll hate it," Walburga admitted. "But liking it and needing it are two entirely different things. It would be better if the two of you could enjoy it at least a little bit, but if you can't then you'll simply have to learn how to deal with it.

The sound of someone clearing his throat caused both of them to look to the side where Phineas was watching them. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, "but if I remember correctly, when you discussed the idea of adoption, she seemed interested in the political advantages. Not happy about them as such, but interested in using them."

"That's a good point," Walburga responded before turning back to Sirius. "If she is interested in using the political power of the Black family, she will need social events like that even more. From what you've told me about her life, she's needed political protection and support for years now, but hasn't had either. You may be able to provide her with a loving home, but what about the rest?"

"Alright, alright," Sirius groaned, throwing up his hands in surrender. "I know when I'm beat. I'll start thinking about something for... spring? No, she and her classmates have OWLs this year. Something during the summer."

Walburga nodded. "That's a good idea, but make sure the invitations are sent out in the spring. People will need time to plan, dresses need to be designed, that sort of thing."

"Fine," Sirius said. "It all sounds perfectly horrid. Now let's get on with the reason I came here to begin with. Is there any news... well, anywhere? Anything important?"

"Dumbledore is back working in his office," Phineas reported, "but he hasn't fully recovered yet. He's moving around slowly and he tires easily."

"Still no idea of what exploded?" Sirius asked.

Phineas shook his head. "I couldn't see in the box, and he threw it too quickly. Something with precious gems, I think, but beyond that I can't say." Sirius and Walburga shared a look, both knowing what the object probably was and unhappy that Dumbledore hadn't deigned to let Sirius know.

"What about the Ministry?" Sirius prompted.

"From what we can tell," Corvus replied, "the Minister's offices are in an uproar. He's furious that you were declared innocent and even more furious that he can't do anything about it. Despite the fact that it's a public relations disaster, though, he refuses to change course."

"Wanker."

"Indeed," Hydrus said, ignoring Sirius' choice of language. "What I've heard suggests that, if anything, he's going to push harder. With you free, Jasmine Dorea appears to him to be an even greater threat."

"So since he can't do anything to me," Sirius said, "he's going to go even harder after her?" The portraits that kept a watch on the Ministry all nodded. "Then I'm going to have to warn her," Sirius concluded. "I should probably let Dumbledore know, too, so he can keep a closer eye on Umbridge."

"While you're at it, you should add that something is definitely being planned for a site of major importance," Walburga said.

"By the Ministry?" Sirius asked.

"No, by him," Walburga answered. "We have no idea what, at least not yet, but he's starting to get impatient at the lack of progress."

Sirius nodded. "It's not much, but I think I'll let both Jasmine and Dumbledore know."

"The Headmaster doesn't know about our new intelligence source, does he?" Walburga asked.

"No, and I don't intend to tell him," Sirius said. "Now that I'm free, I'll let him think that I've reactivated some of the old Black family connections. Or maybe that I'm using people who owe my family some favors."

Walburga smiled, pleased to see what she regarded as improvements in her son.

Thursday, November 11, 1995, Late Morning.

Everyone in the corridor jumped, even the Slytherins, when the door to the Potions lab slammed open. "Well, what are you all doing waiting out here, gawking like a group of inbred trolls? Get in!" shouted Professor Snape.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning," Jasmine muttered.

"I'm not sure he went to bed," Hermione whispered back. "He doesn't look like he's gotten much sleep lately."

"Then I wonder where he's been the past few days?" Jasmine said softly. "Playing with He-Who-Has-No-Balls?"

"Everyone, quiet!" Snape bellowed, preventing Hermione from chastising Jasmine for her language choice. "Today you will be brewing a basic Restorative Draught. This potion—" Snape was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and Jasmine thought he looked as though he was ready to kill whoever dared disturb his class; when his face abruptly went expressionless, however, she twisted her head around to see who had entered the room.

It was Umbridge, and she didn't look too happy.

"As I was saying," Snape continued, "you will be brewing a Restorative Draught. The directions are up here on the board. Begin!"

Jasmine and Hermione started gathering ingredients while Snape stalked around the lab. The expected scratching of Umbridge's quill did not come from the back of the room, making several students increasingly nervous. Eventually Snape must have made his way to the back — Jasmine didn't dare look — because she heard Umbridge asking him about where he'd been for the past week. Jasmine couldn't quite make out whatever his answer was, so she began leaning farther away from her table as she tried to prepare her potion ingredients while simultaneously listening in on what Snape and Umbridge were saying.

In her distraction, she sliced the fried flobberworm mucus much too coarsely, so when she added it to her potion a few minutes later, the result was a noxious cloud of purple smoke that started to fill the lab.

"Idiot girl! What do you think you're doing!" Snape shouted as he stormed away from Umbridge and, with a wave of his wand, first vanished the cloud of smoke then vanished her potion for good measure. He looked down at her station and picked up some of the fried mucus. "Look at this — you didn't slice this nearly fine enough! Are you trying to kill everyone in the room?"

"Hem, hem. Did I hear you correctly? Did Miss Potter try to kill us and the rest of the class? I think that perhaps I should contact the aurors..."

"No, that's not necessary," Snape said in a strangled voice. "It was just... an expression of frustration. Potter is a poor potions student, and as usual, she has completely failed to perform at even a substandard level."

"I'm not so sure," Umbridge countered. "I feel threatened when I'm in class with her. If she can do something like this when she's in class, who knows what she gets up to when she's not being monitored by the staff. She's clearly a danger—"

"The only danger she represents is through her own incompetence," insisted Snape. For her part, Jasmine was horrified that she was being defended by being called incompetent — and by Snape, no less. It was only Hermione's firm hold on her arm that kept her from leaping into the fray.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for your lack of attention, Potter," Snape said. "And given how there's no time now to start over, you will also receive no marks for today's lesson."

"Points?" Umbridge asked, sounding horrified. "She tries to murder us all, and the best you can do is take away points? I say we expel her and take her to the Ministry!"

"As the professor in charge, it is my determination that that is the appropriate punishment for her actions," Snape ground out. "Only the Headmaster can alter that determination, whether to decrease it or increase it."

Umbridge huffed in outrage, and Jasmine was certain that she actually stamped one of her feet before turning and marching out of the class. Jasmine turned and looked up into the black, angry eyes of Snape. "Uh, thanks? I guess?" Without another word, Snape spun on his heel and stalked to his desk with his robe billowing dramatically behind him.

Friday, November 12, 1995, Morning.

When the students began arriving for breakfast, few were surprised to see yet another Educational Decree being attached to the wall outside the Great Hall. What was remarkable, however, was how sweeping Decree Number Twenty-Five turned out to be:

"The Chief Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been placed by other staff members."

"There you are!" came a triumphant voice, and Jasmine felt a hand grab her by the shoulder. As she was spun around, she found herself face-to-face with the Chief Inquisitor. With an expression that was far too gleeful for Jasmine's comfort, Umbridge said, "Now you'll be properly punished for your actions yesterday, you jumped-up little halfblood! I don't know why the professors here insist on protecting you, but it stops now. Give me your wand, because you're being expelled—"

"I'm sorry, Madam Umbridge, but you won't be taking any wands today," came the headmaster's tired voice. Both Gabrielle and Hermione had surreptitiously drawn their own wands and moved to either side of Jasmine, but the arrival of the old man caused them to relax slightly.

"Don't interfere, Dumbledore," Umbridge snarled. "My latest Educational Decree gives me the authority to modify punishments, and that's exactly what I'm doing!"

"Ah, but you're unaware of a few critical details," Dumbledore said patiently. "First, no one, not even I, can modify punishments after they have already been served, as in the case of detentions or suspensions; or after a day has passed, as in the case of points taken, except when it's discovered that a student has been punished unjustly. This is part of the Hogwarts Charter and can only be changed by amending the Charter, not by any Ministry-issued decrees. This provision was included in the Charter so students would know that they wouldn't keep being punished over and over for the same thing: once punishment is served, everyone moves on."

Umbridge's face turned a shade of purple that Jasmine had previously only ever seen on Uncle Vernon, but Dumbledore wasn't finished. "Second," he continued, "the authority to suspend or expel students while they are in Hogwarts is limited to the headmaster and that, too, is specified by the Hogwarts Charter. No decree you or Cornelius try to issue can change that, so even if you thought you could punish Miss Potter further, you could only do so with points and detentions."

"You haven't heard the last of this, Dumbledore," she hissed before she stomped off through the crowd.

"Indeed, I'm sure I haven't," he replied softly. He looked down at Jasmine and said, "I'm guessing that neither of us is entirely surprised by this latest move, yes?"

Jasmine nodded. "I received the same warning that you must have."

Dumbledore sighed. "This was simply the Ministry's opening move. I fear we will have much more to endure before the end."

"Are you feeling alright, Headmaster?" Jasmine asked, surprised to be feeling concern for someone she'd been so angry with for so long.

He gave her a kindly smile. "I must confess that I've felt much better than I do right now, but I do see daily improvement, so I shan't complain too much. Good day, Miss Potter, Miss Granger."

Friday, November 12, 1995, Late Morning.

"This... this is amazing," Jasmine said as she read over the report which Fleur had given her and Hermione after keeping them back after Defense class.

"And this is only a preliminary report, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "They expect to find more as time goes on and other effects have a chance to appear?"

Fleur nodded. "I believe so. No one has told me zis, but in retrospect zat is what happened with ze forest here — despite having found quite dramatic changes soon after Beltane, more was found later as well. It would surprise me if ze same were not ze case with ze site of ze Samhain ritual."

"This is all good, right?" Jasmine asked. "I mean, everything described here looks good, but it isn't causing harm or anything, is it?"

Fleur considered that. "I think zat it is all good. Both magical and non-magical plants and animals are all benefiting greatly, zough ze magical side is naturally benefiting more. I suppose ze only potential problem is zat ze growth of magical plants and animals will lead to more contact with non-magicals. If ze goal is absolute secrecy, zis may put it at risk."

"But..." Hermione started to say, then she fell silent as she thought about it. "If larger, healthier populations of magical plants and animals increase the risk of violating strict separation, then that means that maintaining secrecy requires smaller, weaker populations. As muggle populations grow, and as muggle technology improves, that would require the magical populations to get even smaller and weaker over time."

Fleur nodded slowly. "Yes, I guess zat is true. I never thought about it zat way, but it makes sense."

"So while violating strict separation and secrecy may be a bad thing," Jasmine concluded, "trying to maintain them might cause more harm in the long run?"

"It might kill us in the long run," Hermione corrected her. "Even if the destruction of various magical plant and animal species weren't a crime in its own right, how much would we lose from no longer having them for familiars, potions, artifacts, and so forth?"

"Wow," Jasmine said. "Do you know if anyone is monitoring muggle news for reports of strange events, Fleur?" When their professor shook her head, Jasmine continued, "Maybe you should mention that. Even if expanding the populations of magical creatures is necessary, it would be a good idea to know what the muggles are noticing, if anything. It may be possible to do something to minimize any damage." Fleur immediately began writing a note to her mother.

"I was originally going to ask you if she thought these rituals were a part of fulfilling the prophecy, Fleur," Hermione said, "but now I'm thinking that they are important regardless."

"And zat is precisely ze way you should be thinking," Fleur pointed out. "Remember, I told you not to get caught up in focusing on acts you zink you need to do for ze prophecy. In principle, anything you do might tie into ze prophecy. You must be mindful of ze prophecy and of doing zings to further it, but you must also do what you think is right generally."

"Well, I'd say doing these rituals in more locations is right," Hermione said. "Where will the next one be?"

"I do not know yet," Fleur responded. "It would be best to spread zem around so zat the benefits do not overlap too much."

"And then what?" Jasmine asked. "What's the plan for when we've covered all of Britain? Shall we move on to someplace new, like Ireland? Or maybe France?"

"You would wish to begin performing ze rituals outside of Britain?" Fleur asked curiously.

"Of course," Hermione replied. "Why wouldn't we?"

Fleur smiled. "I will inform my maman, and she will research options."

Saturday, November 13, 1995, Afternoon.

Hermione felt Jasmine shiver next to her as they climbed the steps to the seventh floor. Jasmine had been soaked to the bone trying to find the snitch during the Quidditch match that day, and Hermione didn't think that their 410-130 victory had been worth flying for more than two hours in the cold November rain — not even when the victory had been over Slytherin.

Jasmine had needed to stand under the warm shower for more than half an hour to thaw, only to get cold and wet again on the way back from the Quidditch pitch. Not even the warming and drying charms they'd cast on each other seemed to help. What good is having more magical power if we can't use it to keep warm and dry? she fumed.

"I can tell you're unhappy," Jasmine said suddenly. "I know you don't like the sorts of things I do during a Quidditch game."

"Was I that obvious?" Hermione asked.

"To me, yes," Jasmine replied. "You always have been. But it's been more obvious today. Well, for the past month or so, I guess, if I include our recent practices; but today your body language has jst been screaming unhappiness."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "It's tough to watch you even on a nice day, but seeing you fly in the cold rain today brought back memories of third year and you nearly falling to your death when the Dementors came on the pitch. I was more scared for you then than at almost any other time, I think. At least the other times you've been in danger, you were conscious and able to fight."

Jasmine's eyes widened as she looked at her girlfriend. "Oh! Sorry, I never even thought about that. I—"

A loud noise behind them interrupted Jasmine and they both looked, but it was only a couple of younger students running through the corridor. Hermione knew that she didn't have any reason to worry. Gabrielle, their invisible shadow, was somewhere nearby. Ever since the incident in the Great Hall with the Minister, she'd been spending nearly all of her free time close to the two of them, even including following Hermione during her prefect patrols.

Hermione had been especially happy knowing that Gabrielle was close during the game because more than once she saw Umbridge in the stands, glaring either at her or out towards the pitch and presumably at Jasmine.

The roar of the victory party assaulted their ears as soon as the Fat Lady's painting swung open. The raucous gathering was hardly a surprise — Gryffindors always celebrated loudly when they won over Slytherin. The fact that many were still chanting "Weasley is our King" wasn't a surprise either, because Ron had stepped up and done a great job in his first game as Keeper, despite the taunting from the Slytherins. The only person who didn't seem to be celebrating was Cormac McLaggen, who was sulking alone in a corner.

What was a surprise, and what caused them both to freeze in shock a few feet past the portrait hole, was the sight of Lavender Brown sitting on Ron's lap in the middle of the common room, apparently trying to remove his appendix through his mouth.

"Ew!" Jasmine whispered. "You don't think we look...?"

"Sweet Morgana, I hope not," Hermione replied fervently.

After a long moment just staring, Jasmine finally said, "This is gonna kill Luna."

"I don't think so," Neville said from behind them, making them both jump in fright. "She hasn't tried to make a move on him so far, and she told me that she didn't think he was mature enough yet for a serious relationship. She'll be disappointed, I'm sure, but I don't think she'll be surprised that someone else has caught his eye like this."

"Eye?" Jasmine asked. "Tonsils would be more accurate."

"Please, stop," Neville complained with a grimace. "I've been trying to avoid looking too closely, and I don't need that image running around in my brain. I'm afraid I'll start having nightmares as it is."

Hermione shook her head. She wanted to be mad at Lavender, but Luna hadn't staked any claim on Ron, so Lavender wasn't doing anything wrong. Besides, she and Jasmine had grown much closer to Parvati and Lavender over the past term. The two gossipy witches had not only been active in the Gryffindor defense practices, but they had stepped up and were helping others who weren't doing as well, thus taking some of the burden from her, Jasmine, Ginny, and Neville. It probably helped that Padma had been giving them extra tutoring.

Parvati's and Lavender's progress in both defense and leadership had been as impressive as Ron's performance as Keeper that day, so Hermione couldn't begrudge them their desire to relax and celebrate.

If only I could be sure that Jasmine and I don't look like that... she thought with a shiver.

Sunday, November 14, 1995, Afternoon.

"Congratulations on your victory," Minerva said as she handed Jasmine the teapot. "If you and the rest of the team continue to play like that, there's no doubt that the Quidditch Cup will be in my office again at the end of the year."

"Thank you," Jasmine said as she poured tea for herself and Hermione.

"Is Hagrid back?" Hermione asked. "Lights were on in his cabin when we were returning from the Quidditch pitch, but he didn't answer when we knocked."

"He is indeed back," Minerva responded, "but he is still recovering from a long trip. He should be back to teaching classes some time this coming week... or perhaps next, at the latest."

"Good, maybe we'll get a chance to see him soon," Jasmine said.

"I've finally finished making the discrete inquiries about that matter you asked me to look into back on your birthday, Miss Potter," Minerva said, "and I'm pleased to report that you have nothing to fear."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, sounding relieved. "It's been two months — it's been hard not to worry."

"Yes, I'm sorry it took so long, but I don't see the relevant people often, and I needed to phrase my questions as carefully as possible," Minerva explained. "The situation with Miss Tonks is simplest. Your parents mentioned that you had a boyfriend whom they knew nothing about, and Tonks decided to tease you about it. Apparently her use of quotes around 'mysterious boyfriend' was simply her quoting your parents, not an attempt to communicate that she knew there was no boyfriend."

"That's a relief," Hermione said. "I wrote to my parents last term telling them that I had started dating someone and asking them for some advice. I didn't mention a gender, and they simply assumed it was a boy. I... well, I didn't want to lie to them directly, so I've tried to avoid the topic as much as possible."

Minerva nodded in understanding. "The situation with Mr. Weasley is a bit more complicated, but then again it often is with him when it comes to muggle items. According to him, he and your parents talked about their jobs and the issue of stress came up. They described various muggle ways of relieving stress, and one of them was getting massages to relax the muscles. The idea fascinated and stuck with him. Well, when he led the team to pack up your parents' house, he gathered up their mail. Included in there was a brightly-colored flyer for a business that offered massage classes — a business that was offering your parents a discount because they were already customers. Arthur decided that since they recommended massages so highly and had taken many classes from this business, it would be a great gift for you."

"And he has no idea what 'Kama Sutra Partners Massage' would be?" Hermione asked.

"Arthur doesn't have a clue," Minerva assured her. "Though with seven children, I'm quite sure he doesn't need the help."

Hermione and Jasmine both nearly spit out their tea when they heard that.

Sunday, November 14, 1995, Evening.

"Pureed rat brains?" Dumbledore asked, his mouth gaping open slightly in disbelief.

Snape nodded tiredly, still not yet caught up on either his lost sleep or his missed work.

"That... seems rather hard to believe," Dumbledore said slowly. "Not that I'm doubting your skills, Severus, but..."

Snape held up one hand to forestall any apologies. "It's quite alright, Headmaster. I find it difficult to believe as well. In truth, the use of an enhanced version of rat tonic was more a matter of grasping at straws, not due to any sincere belief on my part that I'd hit upon a miraculous solution." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Maybe it's merely a coincidence, I don't know, but he's been doing well so far."

"If his health issues are truly past, then his attention will turn even more towards other matters," Dumbledore concluded. "Including whatever task he has set for young Mr. Nott. I take it that you have yet to get any more information out of him?"

Snape shook his head. "He remains as recalcitrant as ever. All I've been able to get from him was from that one successful attempt at Legilimency."

"That he means to kill someone," Dumbledore said. "But we don't know who."

"You know my opinions on that."

"I do, Severus, and I continue to disagree. Voldemort will want to kill Miss Potter personally. No, someone else has been picked as Mr. Nott's target. Most likely me."

"As if he stood any chance of such a task," Snape said with a snort.

"Indeed, but others have already probably been injured in his attempts, and we cannot assume that something similar will not happen again."

Monday, November 15, 1995, Morning.

The Great Hall was in a near state of riot when Jasmine and Hermione entered, and the reason wasn't too hard to discern. Hanging outside on the wall was Educational Decree Number Forty-Nine: "All Quidditch matches are henceforth cancelled. All privately owned broomsticks must be handed over to the Chief Inquisitor for safe keeping." Both girls were certain that Umbridge had created it to get at Jasmine and out of spite for the fact that she and the Gryffindor team had played such a good game on Saturday.

Judging by the looks they received from more than a few people, especially members of the study group, others had reached the same conclusion. Fortunately, though, none of the anger in the Great Hall was directed at them — not even from the Slytherins, who looked as furious as everyone else. "I don't know why she thought she could interfere with Quidditch," Hermione said as they sat down. "I mean, I may not enjoy the game much, but even I can recognize that most of wizarding Britain is mad for Quidditch."

"Can you imagine what would happen if some government fop tried to ban footy in muggle schools?" Dean Thomas asked. "It would bring down the government!"

"Somehow I don't think we'll be that lucky," Jasmine said as she started filling her dish with breakfast.

"Silence!" came Dumbledore's voice from the head table.

"He's still not looking good," Hermione whispered to Jasmine, who nodded.

"I know you are all quite upset," Dumbledore continued, "and I sympathize with your frustration. It's been quite a long time since I was sitting where you are now, but even I can remember how eager I was for the next game." There were more than a few chuckles spread through the crowd. "However, there is nothing that I as headmaster can do right now. I do not have the authority to countermand any Educational Decrees from the Ministry, so complaints made to either me or any of the rest of the staff are... aimed in the wrong direction."

As Jasmine looked around the Great Hall, she noticed that a few students seemed to understand the hidden meaning of Dumbledore's words. One by one, they shared their conclusions with others. The students' anger did not lessen, but it now had a new target.

As breakfast came to a conclusion, Jasmine noticed a sad expression on Luna's face, so she moved to sit next to the younger Ravenclaw. "I'm sorry you have to see that," she said softly, gesturing in the direction of Ron and Lavender. "I'd have warned you if I'd had a way of doing so."

"Oh, that's alright," Luna said a bit dreamily. "I'm not bothered by that." When Jasmine gave her a disbelieving look, she amended, "Well, not much. I'm not surprised — it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe it will be good for him. No, it's that the Quibbler should have arrived today. None of the subscribers here in the school seem to have gotten a copy."

"Oh, that's right — today is the day it comes out," Jasmine responded. "I completely forgot, what with the new decree. Maybe it was delayed?"

Luna shook her head. "I doubt it. In all the years Daddy has been publishing the Quibbler, he's always gotten it out on time. It's a point of pride for him."

"Then it sounds like someone has probably interfered with their delivery," Hermione said, now sitting on the other side of Luna. "It was only a matter of time."

"Then we need to find some way of smuggling it into the school," Jasmine said. "Dobby and Winky?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't want us to become completely dependent on them. Besides, I have a better idea: the twins. This sort of thing is right up their alley, and they could benefit from earning the money."

"Well, can we at least ask one of the elves to smuggle my broom out of school?" Jasmine asked.

Hermione thought for a moment. "OK, that will work, but we'll need to do something so she doesn't think you still have it. Maybe the twins will have an idea for that as well."

Jasmine smiled as Hermione motioned for the Weasley twins to come over, looking forward to what suggestions they might have.

Monday, November 15, 1995, Evening.

Dolores Umbridge seethed as she sat in her office. Ever since Halloween, it seemed that everything had been going wrong for her. First she was injured in a suspicious accident — the Headmaster claimed to have saved her, but she was sure that he was responsible for the explosion and only claimed to have put himself in harm's way in order to improve his reputation. Then she lost several days as she lay unconscious in the hospital wing.

Finally and worst of all, Cornelius had been treating her differently ever since she had returned to her duties. He keeps acting like I've done something wrong, she fumed. Like I am responsible for his problems, even though I'm here in Hogwarts and he's the one taking care of business in the Ministry! Things would probably be better if I were there to keep an eye on him, but I can't do both jobs at once!

The exoneration of Black was a political nightmare that would have caused any lesser Minister to be ousted from office, yet Cornelius was hanging on, and she was sure he'd stay. We only need a little more time to expose Potter and Dumbledore for the insurrectionists that they really are. Once the public knows the truth, they'll forget about Cornelius' little problems and instead thank him for protecting the Ministry and our way of life.

That assumed, though, that she was able to even keep her current position. She'd only just finished listening to Cornelius berate her for her decision to stop Quidditch at Hogwarts. Apparently he'd been getting complaints all day from all over Britain. Doesn't he realize that stopping Potter is more important than some silly game? If he's going to accept the responsibility of being Minister, then he needs to be able to deal with complaints like that. It's not as if school games are important — people will get over it quickly enough.

She certainly wasn't going to reimburse that Potter brat for the destruction of her broom. It wasn't my fault that it blew up after I took it from her! Probably shoddy quality anyway. If anything, Potter should have to reimburse me for how my favorite pink cardigan was ruined!

There was also no way that she was going to rescind her decision about Quidditch matches — that would be a sign of weakness, and appearing weak was the last thing that the Ministry could afford. No, I need to appear strong in the face of adversity. I need them to realize that I won't bend or break. That means I need to keep up the pressure — they wouldn't be attacking Cornelius over this if I weren't getting close to finding out the truth, after all. They'll all soon regret the day they tried to challenge me!

The old veela witch sat for a long time reading over the letter she'd gotten earlier that day. It was the first letter she'd received in quite some time — as the oldest living veela and one of the revered elders of her people, most tended to leave her alone out of respect. She liked the privacy and ability to work on her research in peace, and as old as she was, she was far more able to get by without the constant physical contact that the younger generations needed (though, truth to tell, sometimes she missed the company and contact with others).

So the letter was a welcome surprise, at least at first, but it quickly became a cause for great concern. A horcrux! she thought, appalled. It's been a century or more since I've read anything even remotely related to such vile magic — and it's a good thing, too! But now the goblins think they stumbled across one, and since it might relate to a witch of mutual interest with the veela, they forwarded along the information as per the treaty requirements.

It had taken more than a month for the information to reach her, but as the foremost expert on soul magics among the veela, it was inevitable that they would seek out her opinions on the matter. It's a pity that they weren't able to capture it intact — it might have been useful, she lamented as she thought about the situation. It's very, very curious that it exploded, though. If it weren't for all this information about the tests they ran, I'd simply dismiss the claim that they had a horcrux there — horcruxes don't simply explode! But it appears that this one did, which means that something truly unprecedented has happened.

With a spring in her step, she went to one of her least-used bookcases to begin reviewing the subject. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had something so new and unusual come to her attention, and she was eager to get to work on it.