[A/N: Thank you to Calamity Owl for beta-reading this chapter, especially for the tips regarding Jane. I made some oversights with that character. Now, I hope everyone is ready for some nice, tidy vengeance.
Just kidding! This isn't going to be at all tidy.
Oh, and if anyone wants to hang out on Discord, I can frequently be found at the HMS Harmony Discord (hmsharmony [d o t] com) and I have my own channel at the Emerald Library ( discord.g g [slash] elibrary )]
When Hermione awoke the next morning, sun was pouring through the windows, her skin was slick with a cold sweat, and someone was screaming. Strong arms wrapped around her upper body and tangled sheets around her legs held her in place when she tried to flee the screams, and struggling harder only caused them to constrict her more tightly. Only when consciousness fully returned did she realise the screaming woman was her.
"You're OK," he repeated in a soft, soothing voice. "You're OK. You're safe."
"She just walked right in…" Hermione tried to curl up as far into Harry as she could. "I feel so violated. I was a tiny little girl and she smiled while she was hurting me. What kind of monster does that?"
"Dolores Umbridge does that," Harry said. "She's a vicious bigot rumoured to have blackmail on a number of high-level Ministry employees, which is why she seems to live so well on what should have been a modest pension after Amelia Bones fired her. We're going to ensure she never hurts anyone again."
"Thank you." Hermione shuddered. "I keep worrying she's going to come through that door just like she came through my parents'."
"Don't worry," Harry said. "She literally can't find this house."
Hermione blinked. "Oh! We're at Grimmauld Place. I didn't even notice."
"It's OK," Harry said. "Even back home, I have excellent wards that alert a number of dangerous people if they're damaged. By the time anyone could get in, help would be there."
"I know, I know," Hermione said. "I just…don't feel safe anymore."
"We're going to make you safe," Harry said. "I promise."
"Be careful." Hermione's arms tightened enough that Harry had to take shallower breaths.
"I will," he said. "I promise that, too. Do you think you're ready to get up now? It's almost 10:00 and we should eat something."
"You're right, though I was so full last night that I'm still not too hungry." Hermione took a deep breath and released her hold on Harry, allowing him to take a deep breath once again, too.
"I understand," Harry said. "Would you like to use the loo now? I can wait."
"Yes, please." Hermione started to get up, then froze. "Has anyone checked it for spiders lately?"
Harry frowned. "Probably not. It hasn't been that long, but you never know. I'll be right back." He grabbed his wand and hurried out of the room. A moment later, the bathroom door creaked open.
"Bloody hell!" Harry shouted, followed by, "Flipendo! I said Flipendo, you hairy arsehole! Now stay down! Pugio. Damn it, stay put! Pes Aufero, Pes Aufero, Pes Aufero. Yeah, it's harder to run without legs, isn't it? Pugio."
"Is everything alright, Pup?" Sirius shouted up the stairs.
"I'm going to burn this whole house down, Sirius!" Harry shouted back. Then, more quietly, he said, "Reparo. Reparo. Impervius. Oh, right, Evanesco."
"Start with Walburga's portrait and I'll help," Sirius replied.
Harry walked back into the room a moment later and Hermione promptly wrapped him in a tight hug. "My hero," she said.
"It was just one spider," Harry said sheepishly.
"How big was it?" Hermione asked.
"I'd rather not talk about it," he replied.
"Then you're still my hero," Hermione said.
Harry sighed and hugged her back.
Sirius and Remus were surrounded by parchment on the kitchen table when Harry and Hermione finally made their way downstairs. With a wave of his wand, Sirius removed the warming and food stasis charms from plates of toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon that had been left out for them. "Good morning!" he said. "Did you sleep well?"
Harry nodded, and Hermione said, "Yes. I don't think I dreamt much, at least not that I can remember, and I'm thankful for it."
"I don't blame you," Remus said. He had two parchments in front of him and was apparently cross-referencing them. Harry pulled a chair out for Hermione next to Remus, then sat next to her and tucked into the food.
"We got bored waiting for you," Sirius said, "so we decided to start thinking about how we're going to handle the Umbitch."
"Any ideas?" Harry asked, then took a bite of bacon.
"Lots," Sirius said. "Including no fewer than three that start with the entrail-expelling curse and get nastier from there."
"The problem," Remus added, "is that they require us to get our hands dirty, and any risk of getting caught gives Umbridge the potential to have revenge on us, even if it's posthumous. I won't allow that."
"Good," Hermione said. "I don't want any of you in danger because of this. I don't suppose law enforcement can take care of her?"
"I don't want to risk it," Harry said. "If it were just about you, maybe, but if what she did becomes public then we run the risk of enabling copycats. Ideally, I want the knowledge of how she did this to die with her."
"And that's if any charges stick," Remus said. "She has a lot of dirt on various department heads and Wizengamot members."
Sirius waved a hand over the pieces of parchment strewn about the table. "Worse than that, none of these plans are funny. They're satisfying because of how much that bitch deserves it, but they're not funny." He sighed. "We're Marauders, damn it. Our vengeance shouldn't just be deserved; it should be absolutely hilarious."
"Hmmm…" Hermione took a drink of tea and thought for a moment. "I've never been accused of having a good sense of humour—"
"Which I think is bollocks," Harry added.
"You may be biassed, love," Hermione said. If she noticed how much he blushed, she didn't comment on it. "Anyway, I have done a bit of reading on the philosophy of humour, and maybe it'll help."
Sirius snorted. "I didn't know stuffy old philosophers knew anything about humour."
"Most of them didn't," Hermione said. "Plato thought it was a danger to good government, but after reading the rest of his work I suspect he was really just annoyed that people made fun of him for having a huge stick up his bum."
Remus arched his eyebrows at Hermione, who promptly blushed.
"That's not what I meant!" she said.
"You just keep telling yourself that." Remus reached over and patted her hand as he spoke.
Harry looked over at Sirius, who shrugged. This was apparently one of those things that wasn't covered in philosophical primers aimed at teenagers…which, now that he thought about it, wasn't surprising.
"Anyway," Hermione said while glaring at Remus, "Kierkegaard thought the essence of humour was contradiction, or incongruity. I've always liked that definition, and maybe it'll help us come up with something appropriate for Umbridge. I get the impression she's full of herself, committed to the Pureblood agenda, a blackmailer, and a terrible bigot. Is there any way we can use any of that against her? That would be incongruous, and I imagine it would be ironic if one of those traits were used against her."
Harry put down his fork and leaned forward. "Hermione is, as usual, a genius."
"I'm not disagreeing," Remus said, "but I don't see where you're going with this."
"We're not going to use just one of those traits against her." Harry grinned. "We're going to use them all."
By the time he got to the last step of the plan, Harry noticed that everyone else was staring at him with their jaws open. "So after the fall guy gets…um…is everything alright? You're all looking at me like I have a snorkack horn growing out of my head."
"Pup," Sirius said, "I think I now know where all of the cunning that should have been in the last generation of House Black ended up."
"I agree," Remus said. "That's an incredible plan."
Hermione nodded. "I don't know why you seem to think I'm smarter than you, Harry. That's much cleverer than anything I could have come up with."
Harry's cheeks were definitely several degrees warmer than they had been a minute ago. "I just tried to apply some of the schemes I learnt about in Auror training to this and imagine how the various people I knew who were involved in her schemes would react."
"I think it has a real chance of success," Remus said.
"I didn't hear you mention Sue or Nev," Hermione said to Harry. "Are we not telling them?"
Sirius snorted, and Harry shot him a glare before speaking. "I could never ask Nev to keep this from Sue, and she could never go along with this plan. She believes in justice and the rule of law with every fibre of her being. She would want Umbridge to see justice even if that meant risking the discovery of her methods. I don't think Sue can wrap her head around how thoroughly corrupt the Ministry still is despite nearly ten years of Amelia's efforts to improve it."
"I understand. I don't like keeping things from our friends, but I understand." She sighed.
"Are you sure you're OK with this?" Harry asked.
"I think so," she said. "I'm just scared I'll mess up my part."
"You did a great job as 'Anne,'" Harry said, "and I've no doubt you'll do just as well with this."
Remus sighed. "I wish I could play that role, my dear, but my condition prevents me from using Polyjuice Potion."
Her face fell. "It does? Then my Christmas gift to you was—"
"Amazing," Remus cut her off. "I swear to you that I loved it. It was a nice thought and a wonderful opportunity to see your growth as a witch in just three months. I'm going to remember that gift fondly for the rest of my life."
"Oh, Remus, thank you!" Hermione rose from her seat and gave him a big hug.
Sirius grinned and leaned over so he could wrap his arms around his husband and Hermione. "Group hug!"
Harry laughed and went over to join in. He wanted to remember this moment both for how complete his little family felt now and for his own fear that something might go wrong with his plan and ruin that feeling forever.
Objectively, Jane Shaw knew she was a beautiful woman. Five feet, five inches tall, less than eight stone, and with a chest that drew an almost annoying amount of attention.
On the evening of Saturday, January 29th, though, as she pushed her mane of silky blonde hair out of the way so she could vomit into the toilet of her small flat, she felt about as far from "beautiful" as humanly possible. All she wanted to do was curl up with some Dr. Who and wait for this bout of food poisoning to pass. If only she had some sort of magic device like a Sonic Screwdriver to wave at her innards and fix them up!
Some tosser started knocking on her door as she was flushing the latest batch of sick down her toilet, but she didn't bother responding. If it was important, they'd come back later. The knocking indeed ceased a few moments later, but was replaced with the sound of something sliding along the linoleum in her entryway.
Jane dashed into the living room and stared in shock at her door. It was still closed and latched, but on the floor in front of it was a small envelope of rich parchment paper. Hesitatingly, as if it might explode, she crept over to it. It was sealed with wax. Wax! Who sealed parchment with wax in this day and age?
She broke the seal and pulled out a small piece of parchment. "Dear Ms. Shaw," it read, in tidy, elegant cursive, "We at Sainsbury's Clerkenwell apologise profusely for your exposure to salmonella at our store. We hold ourselves to higher standards than that and we failed. Please accept this three-hundred pound gift card to our store as recompense for our failure and give us the opportunity to earn your trust back as a customer. Your Obedient Servant, H. Wilkins, Sainsbury's Public Relation Specialist."
Well. Jane wasn't sure if she was ready to go back to Sainsbury's just yet, but three hundred pounds' worth of groceries was a convincing argument to do so. She was so pleased she barely even registered a single strand of her hair being plucked from her scalp or thought to wonder how the envelope had been pushed under the well-sealed bottom of her front door.
The next day she would look all over for the parchment and note, but it seemed to have vanished entirely from the flat. She decided to put that up to some sort of gremlin like her woo-believing cousin was always on about and just be glad it hadn't taken the gift card.
Hermione picked up the parchment she'd just painstakingly written out left-handed and called for Kreacher. She hated giving the elves so much work, but they genuinely seemed to enjoy it and they weren't taking any of the truly dangerous tasks.
"Mistress with whom Half-blood Master sullies himself called for Kreacher?" the old elf said after he'd appeared next to her in the Grimmauld sitting room.
"Yes." Hermione did her best to ignore the comment…and the unanswered questions about why Kreacher had started calling her "Mistress," as well. "I've summoned you to play a role in the vengeance of House Black."
The old elf straightened up. "How can Kreacher be of use, Mistress?"
"Can you read and write?" Hermione asked him.
He sniffed disdainfully. "Kreacher lives to serve those who read and write."
"That will be useful," Hermione said. The old elf's attitude troubled her immensely, but she couldn't deny its convenience.
The old elf raised his eyebrows in surprise. "It will, Mistress?"
"It will." She handed him the parchment. "Copy that out by hand and show me the result, please."
"Kreacher can do so, but has Mistress's unfortunate upbringing caused her to forget he can duplicate this parchment?"
She smiled. "I have not. You'll have difficulty copying my quillstrokes exactly if you do it by hand, further obscuring my handwriting. And because you never actually write anything because you can neither read nor write, no one will recognize your handwriting."
The old elf smiled back. "And thus shall the House of Black strike from the shadows. Your will be done, Mistress." He vanished.
Hermione's smile faded away as she tried to force herself to remember that lives were at stake here, including some that she was personally hastening to their ends. This kind of power, the power to remake the world in a "better" way, was as delightful as it was insidious. Kreacher wouldn't mind if she abused that power; he would happily leave a trail of blood behind her as she "fixed" the Wizarding World's problems.
She shook her head. This sort of rough justice would have to stop soon, before she gave future generations of House Black something else to be ashamed of. Deep down, though, she knew it wouldn't, not if Harry needed her. If Harry were in trouble and the whole Wizarding World were against him, then it would be the two of them against the whole Wizarding World and the Wizarding World would be outnumbered.
The Leaky Cauldron was packed with revellers after the Wimbourne Wasps beat the Falmouth Falcons in a close Saturday afternoon match, and the Wasps' biggest supporter was already a little unsteady as he made his way back to the bar for another round of firewhisky. That's probably why he didn't notice the blonde until he bumped into her near the bar.
"Oh!" Her butterbeer sloshed onto her robes. "You ought…" she trailed off and transfixed him with a stare from her beautiful brown eyes. "Ludo Bagman! What an honour!"
"Y…you have me at a disadvantage, Miss," Ludo said, all thoughts of firewhisky forgotten.
"Jane, Jane Winters," she said. "I grew up watching the Wasps and hearing stories of how great you were. I daresay I have your whole career memorised." She reached out to shake his hand, then changed her mind and started to try to hug him, then blushed and went to shake his hand again. It was kind of adorable.
"Oh, do you now?" Ludo felt like he ought to have said something more suave, but the undisguised admiration on the face of such a beautiful woman was scrambling his brain even more effectively than the liquor.
"I do," she said enthusiastically. "Why don't we find a table? There's some things I'd love to ask you about."
Ludo could only nod dumbly as she took his hand and led him to a table. A man in a hooded cloak was sitting there and for a moment Ludo thought they'd be joining him, but he rose to leave just as they arrived.
"Perfect timing," Jane said. "Thank you, kind sir."
The cloaked man nodded curtly and hurried off. Ludo wasn't one to question his good fortune and immediately sat down. "What would you like to know?" he asked Jane.
"Everything, really," Jane said, "but I suppose we don't have time for that. To start with, how on…in Merlin's name did you manage to score ten goals against Puddlemere in May of 1980? I know their defence wasn't the greatest that year, but still!"
"I had a secret weapon," Ludo said. "Their coach was Jeremiah Fawley's father, and I flew against Jeremiah for several years at Hogwarts, so I learned some of their tricks just by figuring out how to play against him."
"Very clever." Jane leaned over, making Ludo fight to keep his eyes out of her cleavage. He had a bad feeling he lost that fight, but she didn't seem to mind. "Tell me more."
Ludo never had trouble talking to anyone in his life, but she was especially easy to talk to somehow. She'd clearly done her homework about his career and peppered him with questions about the highlights, then breathlessly praised his answers. Talking to her just felt natural, and when she awkwardly, but cutely suggested they adjourn to her room after only half an hour of acquaintance, that felt natural, too.
Her body felt warm and firm against his arm as she gently guided his stumbling steps up the stairs and into one of the Leaky's guest rooms. Before he had a chance to inquire whether she was new in town, he noticed the cloaked man who'd relinquished the table to them sitting in the corner of the room.
"Hold on." Ludo turned to the man. "I'm not entirely against a third partner in our activities, but I think we ought to discuss our expectations—"
"Petrificus Totalus." Jane's spell hit him from the side and he crashed to the ground. Idly, he noted that he didn't seem to make much noise and the ground didn't hurt much. Cushioning Charms? These were undoubtedly the most considerate muggers he had ever encountered, and he would have been the first to admit that his regrettable choices in women had introduced him to more than his fair share of such persons.
Feminine hands rolled him over with a grunt of effort and after a moment of disorientation he found himself staring into Jane's lovely face again as her hair cascaded down around it. It was the last thing he saw before the cloaked man said "Obliviate" and ended his evening.
The next morning, Ludo rolled out of bed in that room and smiled to himself at the memory of an evening well spent with a beautiful blonde. A pity she couldn't stay the whole night, but he'd remember those hours with her for the rest of his life. Oddly, though, he couldn't quite recall her face, just vague recollections of an impressive amount of cleavage leaning across the table from him, lying down on something comfortable, and golden hair cascading down onto him.. He put that down to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed before meeting her, though, and decided to content himself with his memories of their activities.