Sirius was trying futilely to figure out how muggle Christmas lights worked when he saw it. On the back of Harry's hand, an irritated wound that looked like words had been carved in. Sirius felt his blood run cold because even at a glance, he knew what that was. He recognised Harry's handwriting, and he was intimately familiar with this particular... punishment method. That was what his parents had called it. A 'punishment method' like it was the same as sending him to his room or making him do his homework before he could go to James's house.

"Harry," he said, trying so hard to keep his voice even, but internally he was shaking with rage. "What's that on your hand?"

Harry froze, glancing guiltily at his left hand. His poker face could use some work, but Sirius knew he did alright when it wasn't to his parents. "Nothing," he tried, tugging the sleeve of his jumper down to cover it.

Sirius sighed, shoulders slumping. He didn't know how to deal with this, but it's not like he could freeze Harry in place so he could go grab James for help. Wordlessly, Sirius held out his hand, palm up so he'd seem nonthreatening (he hoped). Patience was the key to being a parent, he'd learned that much. It paid off a minute later, when Harry tentatively put his hand in Sirius's. The sleeve was still covering his hand, but he'd made contact and that was enough. Slowly, Sirius reached his other hand up and pushed back the fabric. I must not tell lies. Sirius grit his teeth. "Which professor did this?"

"A professor didn't do anything," he denied, as though Sirius hadn't used that exact line about his parents to James.

"It's a blood quill. I don't care if they didn't carve into you with a knife, this is still their fault. So I'm asking you Haz, who gave it to you for detention."

Harry swallowed. His hand was trembling, but he didn't snatch it away. "It's not that big a deal, I-"

"You're not fine," Sirius cut in, even though he knew that it was a bad idea to not let your kid finish their sentences. "Don't tell me that you are, because you're not. Give me a name, and I'll take care of it."

"You won't tell Dad?"

"I don't keep secrets from him."

Harry looked pained, but Sirius could see that he was coming around. "Umbridge," he muttered, so quietly that Sirius almost couldn't hear it.

"The new Defense professor?" He gave a small nod.

"Thank you." Sirius got to his feet and pulled Harry into a hug. He wanted to hold onto him, create a little bubble around him until he was the safest person in the entire world, but eventually he had to let go. "Why don't you go grab the frosting for the biscuits, and I'll get you a rub for that. Helps with magical scars." Not much, but it was enough to get rid of blood quill's traces.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, shuffling off to the kitchen as Sirius suggested.

If he didn't rip that bitch apart with his bare hands, it would be a miracle. He kept his steps even as he got to the room he and James shared, and he didn't slam the door. James was happily humming to himself, trying to wrap presents as neatly as he could. They were a bit of a mess, but it's not like Sirius could do better. "Guess what our son just told me," Sirius grit out.

James's hands froze. "Is he in trouble?"

"No but I'm going to kill that fucking professor."

"Okay you need to tell me what's going on before I draw the worst possible conclusion," James said, looking up at him, expression deadly serious.

"The new defense teacher is making him write lines with a blood quill for detention."

"WHAT?" James scrambled to his feet, accidentally kicking a partially wrapped gift half across the room.

"Don't," Sirius said, hand fastening around James's arm. "He didn't want to tell me, and he'll only clam up more if we interrogate him about it. I just want to kill her, and then we can pretend like none of this happened."

"We're not murdering anyone," James said absently, more like it was an obligation to remind Sirius that murder was illegal than because he was against it. At least, that was what Sirius thought until James added, "Accidents happen."

"James." One of them should be reasonable, probably. But it's not really like he wanted for James to be calm, more like he needed to think this through more so that they'd actually accomplish something instead of getting so angry they couldn't speak.

His mouth twisted, scowling hard enough it was a wonder the lights hadn't dimmed from sensing how foul his mood was.

"James," Sirius said again, putting his hand on the back of James's neck and leaning so that their foreheads were resting against each other. "Breathe, love."

He took a ragged breath in, then released it. "Getting her fired wouldn't be bad enough."

"We can come up with a plan tonight," Sirius promised. "But for now, we're going to have a nice time with Harry so that he doesn't have to think about it. Okay?"

It took a long moment for James to agree, but eventually he did. "Okay. But tonight-"

"Tonight, we'll figure out how to eviscerate her." Sirius tilted his head just so, kissing him softly. "Let's get down there and decorate some tree shaped biscuits, yeah?"

Harry probably shouldn't have been surprised by the announcement that Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and previous professor of Defense Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts, had been arrested and was under investigation for violent crimes against Muggles and Muggleborns.

"She's gone," Hermione said, positively beaming at the newspaper. "Harry, this is wonderful! Why- why aren't you happy?"

"I am."

"Then why do you look so down?"

"Processing," he said, rubbing his fingers against his eyes up under his glasses. His dad's had been behind this, he knew it. Before he'd said anything, Umbridge had been cozy up there as the right hand of the Minister of Magic. Untouchable by Dumbledore or McGonagall. One week was all it had taken, and now she was gone, probably going to be put away for life, and all of that without bringing up anything about what she'd been doing to the students at Hogwarts. It might have been more satisfying to see her in court for nearly torturing them, but they all would have had to answer questions about it. This was... easier. Neater, and more efficient. "This is great," Harry admitted, dropping his hands back to the table. "I guess I wasn't expecting for her to be gone so easily, y'know?"

Hermione nodded, bringing the paper up to her nose as she read it avidly, her eyes racing from one side to the other. By the time she put it down, there was a healthy flush to her cheeks and she looked like she was glowing with happiness. "You won't be hurt anymore. Now we only have Voldemort to worry about, but he's not here yet."

Harry snorted. "Yeah. Thanks 'Mione." He waited a while before bringing out the two-way mirror and calling his parents.

James was beaming when he picked up. "Hiya Harry! How's it going?" he asked knowingly.

"You and Pop did that."

"Did what?"

Harry looked at him flatly. "Umbridge."

Impossibly, James's smile widened. "We sure did. And that scar on your hand's nearly gone, yeah?"

"Yeah, almost," Harry said, nodding. "I-." He sighed, shaking his head. Why was he wanting to be upset with them? He'd told Pop because he wanted help, and help was what he'd gotten. The best help possible. "Thanks Dad."

"Anything for you prongslet."

"Love you. Tell Pop thanks and that I love him too." "Will do. Have a good school year, kiddo."