I just have to say that last chapter was filled with the most deliciously bloodthirsty comments I have ever read. I'm surprised no one committed me, as I was laughing like an evil supervillain at them all ^_^ Really made my day

Last time...

Hera's munching on cinnamon candied apples still, when she comes upon a scene she doesn't quite understand. Fred and George are comforting a small child; a First Year, by the look of him. The young boy is in pain, tears streaming down his face. She can't hear the words yet, but she knows something is wrong, knows she needs to hear this. They don't seem to realize she's even there.

"What's your name?" Fred asked gently.

"Michael." The young boy offered, quiet, withdrawn.

"Your hand's gonna be fine, Michael." George consoled the kid.

"Yeah. It's not that bad. See? It's already fading." Fred bolstered him up, showing him his own wrist. "You can hardly see ours anymore, and the pain stops after a while."

Hera doesn't understand what she's seeing, but before she can move to find out, Umbridge appears to her left.

"As I told you once before, Lady Potter," Umbridge announced, loudly enough to alert the others to their presence. "naughty children deserve to be punished."

Chapter 109

Hera waited till Umbridge smugly sauntered off before approaching the scene she'd walked in on.

"Michael, my name is Hera Potter." She introduced herself, slowly walking towards them. "May I approach you?"

The boy hesitated, but at Fred and George encouraging nods, he agreed. Hera slowly approached him, and knelt in front of him.

"May I see your wrist?" Hera inquired softly. "I should have asked before. I shouldn't have let it go on this long, but I didn't realize the depth of the problem. Something tells me I still don't."

Michael slowly turned his wrist over, and Hera barely contained her gasp. On his wrist were the words, 'I will know my place'. Without thinking, Hera took one of the cinnamon candied apples, and gently squeezed the juice to cover the wound. Instead of stinging, as it should have done, the wound glowed. When the light faded, so too did the wound.

"How did you…?" Michael gasped, torn between looking at his wrist and her in awe. "It feels like…like even the memory of it is gone from my skin! Thank you!"

She was suddenly beset by a hug from the boy.

"Michael, how did this happen to you?" She asked gently, but he clammed up, and she didn't wish to press it. "Alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want. I do have a request, however. Will you do something for me?"

Michael looked up in curiosity.

"I want you to take this tray of candies, and tell everyone who has had a detention with the Umbitch to eat one." Hera informed him, causing him to let out a surprised snicker at the curse word. She waved her hand over the tray as she handed it to him. "They will last till the last person eats one, and then the tray will vanish. I want you to take one especially to Marietta Edgecombe. Tell Madam Pomfrey that it will cure everything the girl has; and tell Marietta that though she is forgiven, her actions will not be forgotten. Can you do all that?"

Michael nodded solemnly, before taking the small tray of candies and running off.

"You know, George…" Fred commented, watching the boy go. "I've always felt our futures lay outside the world of academic achievement."

"Fred," George acknowledged with a nod. "I've been thinking exactly the same thing."

"Not yet, it isn't." Hera countered, snapping them out of their conspiratorial conversation, making sure to use the shock to pop a candied cinnamon apple into their mouths. "I need a favour."

"…Hera?"

"Plan your biggest prank yet. Go to the Room of Requirement for the supplies. Hogwarts will help you. It won't matter how much you use, Hogwarts will find you more." She continued, before standing up. "When you're ready to launch, let me know. I have plans of my own."

"What are you going to do?" Fred wondered, giving his brother and uncertain look.

"That depends." She replied, pinning them with a look. "Either of you feel like telling me how those wounds got there?"

They looked to each other in silent conversation, before looking back at her to shake their heads no.

"Very well then." Hera drew herself up to her still rather unimpressive height, and declared. You leave me no choice."

She left them where they sat, without answers, intent on her goal.

That evening, Hera made sure there was enough sedatives of the non-lethal variety to keep Dolores Umbridge asleep for the better part of the next day. She may have tasked Winky with making sure there was a weighted blanket placed on the woman after she'd fallen asleep, just to add a touch of difficulty. Sleepy witches and wizards tended to either think in terms of too much magic or not enough; either way, it was better to take precautions. Granted, she wasn't taking as many as she normally would. She was trying to get caught, not get away with it.

Fred and George had asked multiple times that evening what she was planning to do, but she just told them to talk to Snape tomorrow. He'd have something for them to do that needed done right away. They didn't need to know that she'd hastily arranged it with him to call for an emergency proctor for their N.E.W.T.'s. If they wanted to make a break for it, that was fine, but they were doing it with a full set of test scores; and she imagined that they would grudgingly appreciate the subtle prank for what it was. The following morning, she made her move.

~.~.~

She was a bit out of it from lack of sleep when she began her plan, and so it was perhaps understandable that she sat next to Professor Snape as she normally would. Then man was tense as she put together her breakfast, but she thought nothing of it for a moment. It wasn't until she saw him white-knuckling his own utensils that she began to wonder. Just what was he so concerned about? It couldn't be all that bad.

"I have asked you not to sit so close to me, Madam." Professor Snape seethed. It still took Hera a moment to realize she didn't quite look like herself.

"Oh, quite right, Professor." Hera nodded absent-mindedly. "I'm the Umbitch today."

Professor Snape went rigid, but by the time he recovered, she was already sitting next to Professors Sprout and McGonagall.

"So, I've been thinking of confessing my undying love to the Minister." Hera began, fully leaning into Umbridge's persona of girlish glee. "What do you think? Too soon?"

Professor Sprout started coughing on her tea, and Professor McGonagall looked quite green around the gills. Hera simply giggled and went back to crafting her own tea. It was going to be a good day. She could already see the chaos this would create, and she couldn't wait to see what happened next. She looked around at all the glum faces, hoping that this worked.

…

"Alright now, since I'm impersonating the Umbitch today, I would like you all to take out your books." Hera announced, when the first class of the day had sat down. "We're going to have a bit of a craft day."

"Wait, did she say impersonating?"

"Did she say Umbitch?"

"While normally I wouldn't condone the wilful destruction of a book, they can be used for various craft items." Hera continued, as if Michael hadn't spoken. "So, I want you all to neatly rip out pages from your book, and craft the very best paper aeroplanes. We're going split into teams, and enchant them to fight it out. Let's see who wins, shall we?"

…

"Merlin's pants, is this what she has you all do in here all day?" Hera blurted, as Umbridge, watching the next group of children read straight out of the book. "No wonder you aren't learning anything. I'm bored as fuck just looking at you."

"…Professor?"

"Maybe we should shake things up a bit." Hera mused, though she understood their confusion. She did look and sound like Umbridge, after all. "Oh, I know! Tag! You're it!"

Neville was hit with a colour changing charm that had his hair turn bright pink. The chaos descended from there. Soon, Pansy and Hera were in an all out battle with each other over who could make the other look more obnoxious in their colour of choice. Hermione and Draco had teamed up, and had decimated the classroom and its occupants. By the end of the class, nothing was recognizable, and Hera winked at her shield-brethren as they made their way out.

…

"You know, I always wondered why Dumbledore made this thing a golden throne, but sitting here now?…" Hera commented, sitting back in the Headmaster's chair. "I get it."

She was basking in the glow that only chaos could bring. Lunch was a fantastic affair. The house elves had really outdone themselves. By now, most if not all of the students suspected something was up. The teachers didn't seem to know what to think. Any time they asked, she blurted out something plausibly sounding enough that it could be some fanciful secret Umbridge couldn't wait to divulge, and they left her alone. With the snap of her fingers, Hera changed the Headmaster's throne to something that had a bit more of a woodsy look, though still covered in quite a lot of gold, with warm green assents.

Relaxing further into the plush cushions, Hera practically melted as she commented further. "I could get used to this."

…

Third class of the day came to find 'Umbridge' with a set of obnoxiously cute little cat plates she'd gotten from her office. None knew what to expect, but the kind smile and conspiratorial wink threw everyone off. Colin was in this class, and he was more hesitant than he had been in years prior. That the room was devoid of desks was obvious. What they couldn't fathom was why.

"Alright now, I'm going to toss these into the air, and you're going to hit them with whatever spell you fancy. Target practice." Umbridge explained. "I've decided I absolutely abhor the colour pink, and want it gone. Two birds, and all that."

She threw one up into the air, but no one hit it with a spell, and she huffed.

"Come on now. Either you hit them, or they hit the floor. They'll break either way." She reasoned. "Might as well get a good shot in, yeah?"

…

Fourth class couldn't believe the things they'd heard from others at lunch. Fred and George were absolutely livid that they still had to be here, especially given that Hera had tricked them into taking their N.E.W.T.'s. They knew that whatever she was planning would be worth it, and so they'd offered up a little apple tiramisu to Loki for the cause. They were not expecting Umbridge to be eating it when they got to class that evening. If they didn't know better…It couldn't be.

"You two really know how to treat a girl." Umbridge exclaimed happily. Setting the treat aside, the woman began. "Alright, so far I've had this class destroy their books to create enchanted paper aeroplane battles, had a colour charm tag match, and tossed those wretched kitten plates into the air for target practice. Any ideas how we should round off the day?"

The entire class was silent as they realized that the stories told at lunch were true!

"Oh, I know!" Umbridge exclaimed, and waved her hand to reveal a bunch of Umbridge dummies. "Who wants to toss a pie at the dummies? To make it more interesting, I'll be among them, and if you hit me, it's five points for your House!"

...

Hera was looking for things to mess with in Umbridge's office, when there was a knock at the door. She hesitated, donning her 'Umbridge' disguise once more, as she expected the Heads of House to come in. What she got was a line of glum students who looked as if they were walking to the hangman's noose. Even though Hera had done a lot of out-of-character-for-Umbridge things while looking like her, they still thought something bad was going to happen; What that something was, she didn't yet know, but this had to be dealt with first. With that thought in mind, she let her transformation drop, and the room instantly relaxed.

"Oh, thank Merlin it's you." Lavender exclaimed. "With everything today, I wasn't sure, and then Michael tried to get us all to eat apple slices, and-"

"Tell me you ate them." Hera interrupted.

"We took them, but…" Dean hesitantly admitted, but stopped when he saw the look on her face. "Really? We were really supposed to eat them?"

"Did he tell you what I did?" Hera questioned, and waited. They all nodded. "Then, yes, you were supposed to eat them. What's the problem?"

"It just…" Parvati fumbled, grinning sheepishly. "…After everything we've seen you do, it seemed too simple."

Hera snorted. "Fair. Next time I magic up some candied apples to imbue healing properties, I'll make it a bit flashier for you. Now, eat the things. I know you have them with you."

Sheepishly, they all took out their candies from various wrappings in their pockets, and at them.

"Hey, my scar is gone!"

"Mine isn't."

"Well, I mean, it's sort of is? But…"

Hera had a suspicion as to why that was, and she tried not to grimace enough that they could read it on her face. Those that hadn't suffered through whatever this was for long were healed immediately, but those that had suffered longer were only seeing minimal results. Hera's work wasn't done yet. It was the work of moments to assure them that it was simply a slower healing where it was a deeper wound, and she managed to keep from them how she would need to do that. Murtlap would heal a wound over time, but it wouldn't take the memory of it from ones skin; that required something else, but to do it, she would need a similar wound. She just had to get detention first.

The next day…

It had taken far longer than Dolores would like to admit to get out from underneath that inordinately heavy blanket. It had just been so warm and comfortable, that she'd ended up in a kind of stasis for a bit. It certainly explained why she hadn't had an accident, at least. She'd never thanked Merlin more about the bathroom being right there in her room than she had the moment she got out from under that blanket. It was clear some time had passed though, as the evening news paper from the night before was on her table that morning, and the things it said…

She couldn't fathom how they knew some of those things, but then Skeeter had always been a particularly annoying thorn in her side; especially considering it seemed she'd struck some new deal with Potter. Other things she read were outright lies, and would be dealt with just as soon as she figured out who to blame. She wanted it to be Potter's fault; needed it, as she'd not been able to leave her mark on the girl quite the way she had on so many other students already. It looked like her opportunity was at hand when she stumbled into the Great Hall…only to find she was already sitting at the Head Table…Everyone sort of froze upon seeing the two of them, and then the imposter smirked.

"Well, clearly one of us is going to have to change." The imposter remarked, openly amused, before a frost like substance covered her and Hera Potter was revealed. "Better?"

"You?" Dolores questioned, fuming. "You are responsible? The lies I saw in the Daily Prophet?"

"Don't forget the truths in there too." Potter reminded her smugly, like she knew something else. "And who knows what other surprises I've left around for you?"

Severus liked to think that he had been patient. He had put up with Potter missing her classes, and the blatantly terrible impersonation of Umbridge; though the look was spot on. He had endured the Pink Menace pulling them both into her makeshift Headmistress' office – only to discover the sheer chaos that Potter had left it in – to be yelled at by a woman who reminded him of little more than a rabid dog. Potter sat through it all with a smirk that rivalled James' own, clearly amused by the woman's reactions, not bothering with even the barest attempt at respect. However, he knew Potter was up to something, and if he didn't know what it was, he couldn't plan for what could happen after; So he waited till they had entered his office, before trying to gather his words.

"What were you thinking?" Severus demanded, seeing how unconcerned she was. "What are you planning? Out with it, Potter!"

"You know how murtlap has been going missing from both your stores and the greenhouses?" Potter inquired, before pinning him with a look. He didn't yet understand why that was important, but he had noted it. "I worked out why."

"Oh?"

"She's doing something, getting around the armour somehow, and wounds are showing up in the form of words on the wrists of just about every child in this school." Potter seethed, trying to control her own anger. It wasn't at him, but herself. "There's been a dark magic I've been able to see on a wrist of just about every child in this school, but the armour should have protected them. The only thing I can think of is that she's making them hurt themselves, but I can't figure out how. I swore I would do everything in my power to help them. I can't just let this go."

"So what are you going to do?" He wondered. Her anger gave him pause, as he didn't think it was a good idea for so much of it to be inward. Her look changed to that of determination. "No."

"Why do you think I did everything I did today?" Potter reposed. "Do you really think she was just going to let me get away with all that, when she has the chance to do something about it? Do you really think she'd pass that up?"

"Potter…"

"Sometimes, the best way to figure out how to beat a trap is to get caught in it." Potter continued, smirking all the while. "It'll allow me to figure out what she's done to them, and to determine what I should do next."

"And then?" He demanded, running a hand through his hair. "Potter, you can't just-"

"I can." She snapped, cutting him off. "I've given them long enough, more than, and you know it. I warned them what would happen if they should take too long. I've given her enough rope. I want to see her hang herself with it."

"Potter…" He tried, failed, and tried again. "Be certain it is your charges you protect, and not your own pride. Revenge can easily be mistaken for retribution if you lie to yourself well enough. I should know."

"I saw the words 'I will know my place' carved into a boy's skin." Potter growled, something which stunned him. "Trust me when I say she's earned what's going to happen to her."

When the time came for her detention, she knew Fred and George would already be too busy with the proctors to check up on her. She'd unintentionally planned it that way, as even the proctors had needed a bit of time to gather things up, but it worked in her favour now. The office was still a wreck, though at least the swamp like nature of it was gone. It was completely unrecognizable, though she did spot several of the overly cute pastel kitten plates cracked; the kittens inside crying as they looked around for the others. The falsely cheerful veneer of the room was gone, something she knew had to get underneath Umbridge's nerves a great deal.

"Good evening, Lady Potter." The woman sniffed dismissively. "I'm surprised Severus allowed you to attend your detention."

"I did get caught red handed, you see." Hera pointed out; not that she had to do that. "Also, I seem to remember Professor Snape telling you that you didn't have permission to address him so familiarly, and really! What would the Minister say? You know, what with that rumour of your crush on him, and all?"

"Well, sit down." Umbridge stated, pointing towards a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair, ignoring Hera's dig at her.

A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for her. Hera inspected the parchment subtly as she made her way over. There was no magic on it, nothing to suggest what she suspected, but she knew that she likely hadn't seen the whole of the trap yet. Umbridge watched her with her head slightly to one side, with a strained sort of smile on her face. Once Hera was seated, the woman stood from her desk and made her way over.

"Well, it appears you can do as your told after all." Umbridge declared with a saccharine tone that flew all over Hera for how fake it was. "Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me. I am glad you didn't bring anything with you, as I have a rather special one I want you to use. Here you are."

The woman handed her a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. Without knowing what this was, Hera knew what it was. It was filled with the same dark magic that she'd seen on the wrists of nearly every child in Hogwarts. She would have to do what they had done, if she had any hope of drawing out the foul magic from their own, something she knew Snape wouldn't be pleased with. Turning it in her hand as if she were admiring it, Hera turned her attention back to Umbridge.

"I want you to write 'I must not tell lies'." Umbridge continued, looking far too pleased with Hera's admiration of the quill.

"How many times?" Hera inquired, though she had a sinking feeling that she knew the answer already.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in." Umbridge replied. "Off you go."

"You haven't given me any ink."

"Oh, you won't need ink."

Oh, so that's how she did it, Hera realized. Still, Hera placed the point of the quill on the parchment and wrote: I must not tell lies. She expected the pain, and so didn't gasp, gritting her teeth against it before it could escape. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of her left hand, cut into her skin as though traced there by a scalpel.

Yet even as she stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again quickly, leaving the place where it had been only slightly redder than before and still quite smooth. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Umbridge waiting for her to react. Hera felt sick, realizing that the woman expected her to look up with confusion and betrayal; because those in authority should not abuse the children in there care. She realized that every child before her had done just that, had looked up with confusion and betrayal, as hope died. With a stubborn tilt to her jaw, Hera got back to it; placing quill to parchment once more, writing the words 'I must not tell lies' again and again, watching as they healed over seconds later.

The ink was her blood, she soon realized. It was why her protection hadn't been enough. Umbridge had forced each child to do this, to cut themselves with this quill time and time again until the message 'sank' in. Hours passed, and darkness fell. Hera did not ask when she would be allowed to stop. Instead, she focused her intent into the quill; knowing that what she was going to do next would require it.

"Come here." Umbridge demanded, after what seemed like hours. Hera made her way to her. "Hand."

Hera extended her hand, to which Umbridge took it into her own. The woman's touch was revolting, and she repressed a shudder as Umbridge ran her fingers over the words still cut deep into her skin. Hera had managed to convey to the quill that she needed it to cut as deep as possible, that her healing factor would reject it if it didn't. She needed there to be evidence left in order to do the magic she had planned. It gave into her request with glee, not often given the chance to inflict pain onto a willing victim.

"Well, I'm surprised. I seem to have made an impression after all." Umbridge mused with a smile. "You may go."

Except, when Umbridge let go of her hand, Hera grabbed onto hers with a vice like grip and a grin that was anything but kind.

"I think not." Hera declared, her voice low, and the two disappeared from the grounds of Hogwarts.