Two weeks. It had been two very long weeks since the pink monstrosity had strutted into the dungeon classroom. Two full weeks of her further “Inspections”, and with one stroke she had added the DADA and Potions master to her growing list of highly questionable teachers and their curriculum.

The students all eyed her warily, unsure as to her true target, and the teachers had all adopted a sour demeanour. Thus, it should not have come as much of a surprise to find that the Weasley brand of pranking had started early this term.

It had begun with the twins selling their sample boxes to naive first and second years. Their business boomed within days with a subsequent rise in students from all years and houses suddenly becoming sick during undesirable classes, only to be seen, soon after leaving the classroom, right as rain. It was only coincidence, of course, that those classes most affected were those where the Madam Undersecretary was ‘visiting’.

Then there was the night that they had somehow managed to convince the elves to let them tamper with the pumpkin juice jugs, slipping in a potion that caused everyone’s hair to turn a rival house’s colour. The teacher’s table had not been immune either, with Dumbledore’s white hair and beard turning rainbow colours and the heads of houses sporting changed locks. Somehow, Umbridge had been turned a decidedly horrible shade of puce, making her look more like a toad than before. While everyone knew who had done it, they couldn’t prove it – as the supposed perpetrators had been hit by the potion as well. Dumbledore had laughed it off always a fan of a good joke, but the Undersecretary had squealed upon discovery of the prank and, due to them possibly laughing the hardest, soon had pinned the twins with cold, beady eyes.

The DADA classroom had become a favourite hangout of the short woman. She’d sit in the back with her clipboard, tutting away under her breath as she made vicious notes with her quill, shaking her head every so often. Bill was about ready to physically boot her from the classroom as she was such a disruptive influence. However, her favourite targets – by far – were Muggle Studies and Divination. Those two women were rarely seen beyond their classroom doors, now, and when they did venture out, they acted like scared little mice.

Bill watched during dinner one night as a rumour started among the tables. It was quite interesting to watch, actually. He could spot where it started along the Gryffindor upper years – most likely his brothers – then he could see the game of whispers catch on as heads leaned left then right spreading the news down the table. The news spread along the back of the hall between tables and soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were passing it up. Apparently the prank was not going to victimize the Slytherins as that table was finally passed the news where it quickly spread up the ranks. Severus snorted on his right.

“This ought to be interesting,” the older man commented snidely.

“Then I didn’t imagine it...” Bill whispered.

“No. That was the famous Hogwarts grapevine in full action. Two minutes and fifteen seconds to cover the entire school population. I shouldn’t wonder if our night isn’t going to be quite full – and I’m going to have two pranksters busy in my dungeons this weekend.” He grinned maliciously as a school owl came fluttering down to land in front of his gold plate charger. It pecked at a rind of ham while Snape untied the message from its leg and unrolled the miniature scroll. He snorted once as he read it, then vanished it with a snap of his fingers, startling the owl into taking off again. He picked up his goblet of wine and connected with two pairs of bright brown eyes glinting at him from a sea of red and gold as he silently toasted them in reply then resumed his dinner.

“Yes, it shall be a busy night indeed,” he commented quietly. Turning to his dining companion he asked, “Would you like to accompany me this evening to the Three Broomsticks? I hear Rosmerta has laid in an exceptional new keg of thirty-year old oak-aged mead.”

“Sounds delicious. Are we celebrating anything in particular?” Bill asked as he leaned back in his chair, having watched the Master interact with his brothers and hearing his earlier comment. “And can Fleur join us?”

“Oh, I think I’ll send out a general invitation to most of the staff. A ‘we’ve survived the first month’ celebration.” He conjured up a quill and some parchment from somewhere in his teacher’s robes and wrote an invitation on the top one. When he was done he tapped the top one twice and the note reproduced itself through the pile. He then folded each note in half, addressed it to a particular teacher and as he finished each addressee, the note disappeared from the stack only to appear quietly under each recipient’s hand. When he finished, he pushed back his chair and stood up, Bill joining him.

“That was an interesting little charm,” the red head commented. “Would have come in handy in school...”

“And I’ll thank you not to teach it to my sons,” Severus smirked. Bill held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll meet you there in one hour,” the Potions master said softly to the younger man, then left via the teacher’s entrance.

)O-O(

The teachers were gathering in the private room at the top of The Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta had supplied the group with several bottles of her new stock of mead and they were sitting on comfortable couches and chairs around a roaring fire, some propping up their tired feet on comfortable hassocks. They were all quite warm inside and out and becoming quite relaxed.

“Alright, Severus, not that I don’t truly enjoy this mead or the company, but why is three-quarters of the staff away from the school this evening when it was quite obvious those twins have something planned?” Minerva interrogated her colleague. “Is the school going to still be standing when we return?”

“Please note who was not invited on this little jaunt,” he made her observe. “The twins let me know that they are going to be setting off some experimental fire-works this evening and suggested that we might want to let her Pink Majesty try handling getting rid of them. The only way to do that was if we were not around to help. If you go to the window over there in about five minutes, you’ll see their new product.” He smirked at her incredulous look.

“I’m not going to survive those two...” she mumbled into her drink. “I’m assuming you’ve already set them their detention?” she asked crisply.

“Of course. Five hours with me on Saturday, ten points each will be deducted.” The stern Gryffindor head nodded at him in agreement – it was his standard arrangement with the boys whenever they pulled a major prank; if it ended up being a disaster – the points taken could increase. If it was considered a masterful prank, only minimum points would be taken by Severus and the other teachers, usually McGonagall, would find ways of counteracting them. Of course very few knew that these ‘detentions’ were when he actually let them experiment under a master’s eye. A sparkle from the window caught his eye. “Ah, the show has started!”

Another reason he’d chosen this vantage point was because of a large curved window seat that occupied most of one wall that faced the picturesque view of the castle, unobstructed by any other buildings. All the teachers headed over to the window taking in the breathtaking view of the spectacular light show that was happening not only in the sky but also, apparently, in the halls of Hogwarts. Bill started sniggering next to Severus as several wheeling displays merged only to become bigger. Inside, the sparking lights seemed to be multiplying along the corridors.

Flitwick was bouncing up and down on the window seat, having levitated himself up to the cushions. “What wonderful charm work! Ah, yes a self-duplicating Gemini charm...” he began murmuring under his breath as he watched the display. “Oh, good show!” The little man exclaimed while others oohed and ahhed as several shaped displays took to flying around the castle. The mead bottles were passed around again as the teachers sipped and watched the show.

Much later the group began staggering back up to the castle in pairs and threes, Minerva giggling every-so-often as a stray firework began to circle the Headmaster’s tower. Severus was in the lead as they approached the gates that were flanked by winged boars. Severus blinked as a third boar flew down towards the group, spraying stray sparks in its wake as it buzzed overhead causing several to duck down. As they watched, it floated upwards again, wings flapping, and headed back to the castle where it joined its fellow strays in circling the main tower. Flitwick clapped his hands in admiration.

Shaking his head, Severus held the gate open until the final inebriated educator had passed by him. He shut the iron gates, resetting the locks and began the long, sobering trek up the steep carriageway – letting the cool air aid the sober-up charm he had used to sharpen his senses. He had a feeling he was going to need them operating at full capacity when he reached the entry-hall.

The sight that greeted him was so comical; he was hard pressed not to snigger. As it was, he was sure his chin was quivering with the need to let loose and the enamel of his teeth would crack under the force of his jaw clenching. A thoroughly dishevelled Umbridge was running around the hall, dirt smudged and hair falling free from its confining bow. Unbeknownst to her a small ball of pink and green sparkles was following behind her, like a little puppy, dogging her heels. An asthmatically wheezing Filch was in front of her wielding a smoking push broom while a blinking marquis sign – that obviously knew of Filch’s admiration for the Madame Undersecretary - with an arrow pointing down at him flashed amusing sobriquets such as ‘Schnookums’, ‘Lamsie Pamsie’, ‘Stud Muffin’ and – the one that nearly broke Severus’ composure – ‘Monkey Buns’, as they attempted to herd the remaining wheeling fire-shapes out the front door. 

Dumbledore was collapsed on a step, looking as if he’d run a marathon; arms resting on his knees, wand dangling loosely from his right hand, glasses askew and ash-smudged. His hat had gone missing somewhere and he was half-heartedly slapping at some scorch marks on his robes that still had glowing embers while his beard and long white hair were definitely showing signs of being grizzled by fire with tendrils of delicate smoke wreathing his head.

The hallways appeared as if a small war had gone off inside them, with scorch marks scoring the walls and ceilings, several pinwheels were still spinning madly on the floor daring anyone to come near their flaming madness and the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Great Hall were grinning in ecstasy while their stone teeth masticated on some hapless roman candles that had migrated their way, fonts of colourful sparks dribbling down to the floor.

Flitwick stood agape as he took the scene in, then just shook his head muttering ‘imbeciles’ as he whipped out his wand and shot a spell at the group of sparking displays. The reaction was quite astounding as all three screamed “NO!” at the little professor, each leaning dramatically towards him – wands at the ready, spells on their lips – but it was too late.

“Whoops!” Flitwick squeaked as his strong Finite only caused the displays to brighten considerably before all of them replicated several times and branched off down intersecting corridors. “Sorry! Looks like you have it well in hand, however, goodnight!” He waved cheerily to the trio as they scrambled after the balls of light. Filch looked as if was going to burst into tears on the spot. He began climbing the stairs to his second floor apartments, musing about “Fifty-points to Gryffindor... each,” as the other teachers began splitting off towards their rooms as well – some surreptitiously shooting off some more Finites, since the first had resulted in such a wonderful reaction - nearly at running speed, before the trio could realize they now had help within reach.

Umbridge, quicker to the punch, chased after Snape as he crossed the expanse of the entry-hall to the tunnel opening that sloped down towards the dungeons, tripping and valiantly attempting to side-step the sparklers as she trotted after him.

“Wait, Snape! Where have you all been this evening? We could’ve used your help with this... You have to help me!” she screamed, obviously becoming unglued in her frustration at being defeated by a school prank.

Severus stopped and turned to face her, an eyebrow rising in contempt. “I’m sorry, Madam Undersecretary, but we were not on patrol duty this evening so we gathered for an evening wine tasting party. So sorry, but I must now make sure none of my students are wandering the corridors – it is past curfew, you know. Happy hunting!” He slipped into the dungeon shadows as her frustrated yells and stamping feet as she threw a tantrum echoed around him.

)O-O(

An irate Madame Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, stood up at breakfast the following morning and began pacing in front of the staff table. All eyes were on her, like prey watching a pacing lioness.

“It has become abundantly clear,” she began in her pedantic tone, “that the discipline in this school has slipped below all known parameters. The educational guidelines as set by the Ministry are also not being stringently kept; in fact they are blatantly and deliberately flouted on any and every occasion! Students are slovenly in their appearance,” several students were looking around at their classmates, all of whom had student robes pulled over their schools shirts, and shrugged, “and the quality of the teaching staff, in most cases, is below Ministry standards.” Severus could feel Minerva’s seething from where he sat six chairs away. “After consulting with the Minister last evening after this latest round of “Pranks”,” she sketched quotes in the air with her fingers, looking directly at the Weasley twins who didn’t seem affected by her attention, “he agrees that changes need to be made immediately or the future of our magical citizenry will be in jeopardy. Starting today, I have been given power to assign detentions, deduct points and to sack any teacher who does not meet ministry standards. There will be order in this school – I will have it!” she screeched loudly over the rising indignant protestations of the students, marching down the centre aisle to the back of the hall.

“My first decree will be the disbanding of all clubs and teams. You must come to me for authorization to reform your little groups,” she announced smartly before slamming through the doors scaring a first-year witless who’d just been outside them, late to breakfast.

Pomfrey swooped down on the poor weeping Hufflepuff, her departure igniting the mouths of the students as they discussed the latest outrage.

“Wait,” a young Gryffindor asked out loud, incredulously. “Does that mean the chess club has to ask permission to reform?”

“All clubs and teams, Pennywhistle; all of them,” Hermione stated surely. “That includes the Quidditch teams as well, and any homework groups,” she pointed out to her best friends. Harry’s eyebrows hit the roof as he mentally tugged on his connection to his father. A note soon appeared under his hand.

The Defence club meeting is still on. RoR tonight at six-thirty. If we have to go underground, we will. SS

He showed the note to his fellow Gryffindors and nodded quickly to his brother at the Ravenclaw table, raised an eyebrow to Pansy at the Slytherins and Ron turned around on his bench and whispered to Justin behind him. And just like that the Hogwarts Grapevine broke its own speed record. Life had just gotten very interesting.

)O-O(

That evening saw the third meeting of the Defence group. Despite it being illegal under the new rules, the two professors were waiting at the revealed door in the obscure seventh-floor hallway ushering in small groups of students and keeping a lookout for Dumbledore, Umbridge or Filch and his cat. Harry’d had the brilliant idea of asking Crookshanks to keep Mrs Norris busy that evening. When he’d approached the bandy-legged familiar of Hermione, the cat had given him a disgusted look worthy of Snape Senior, but had gone through the portrait hole, tail twitching in the air. He still had a soft spot in his heart for his former young master. So far, it seemed to be working as no one had seen Filch’s favourite feline in several hours.

As the last student passed the guardian professors, they closed the door and it melded back into the wall leaving not a trace of its passage. Behind it, the room they had requested was quite large with several areas to train in. Several wall sconces and fireplaces lit the room and provided a warm atmosphere. There was a wall of target dummies and bulls-eye targets, a workout corner with gym equipment and mats that had garnered the interest of a lot of the boys, an empty central area for general duelling and practice, and a far corner had two walls of books that focused purely on defence spells and strategy as well as overstuffed reading chairs to curl up in. Hermione was sneaking a longing eye at that corner, but all the students were milling around the centre area, excited whispers charging the scene.

“Welcome, everyone!” Bill began. “As of this moment, this is the defence club. We are now considered an illegal group under the new decrees but Professor Snape and I, and especially your parents, feel that this is information you need to master in this political climate.” He paused while a round of cheering and agreement surged from the gathered students. “There is a war going on, whether the Minister wishes to acknowledge that or not, and you must be prepared to face whatever may come your way. This study group will be concentrating on spellcasting; theory will be left to the schoolroom. Most of you tonight are here for the very first time. You were asked to attend by a senior member of this group. As I told them two weeks ago, in three weeks time you will be requested to bring three of your friends – from any house – to these meetings.” He waited a moment as they whispered among themselves, some shuddering as his words impacted and the ramifications struck home. Despite the warmth from the blazing fireplaces, a chill had settled over the assembly.

“Even the Slytherins, Professor?” a third-year Gryffindor asked defiantly, causing a murmur to stir the group.

“Especially the Slytherins, Mister Brakecast,” Severus answered decisively, silencing the crowd. He faced the group at large. “I will vouch for any Slytherins that are asked to participate in this group. Please note that there are already several from my house as senior members and now junior members among you. If you have any questions concerning any from my house, please see me during office hours and I will let you know whether approaching that person would be advisable or not. I’m sure you should know by now that not all Slytherins are supporters of the Dark Lord, and not all supporters are Slytherins. Peter Pettigrew, the person who told the Dark Lord where the Potters could be found, was a Gryffindor,” Severus reminded them in his sternest teaching voice. Several older students nodded their heads in remembrance while several younger Gryffindors gaped at him before gulping loudly, the import of what these teachers were saying finally hitting home.

“We want this knowledge to spread,” Bill continued earnestly. “We will be teaching the senior members different sets of spells than what they will be teaching you – don’t worry, you will be teaching those who come in three weeks the spells you will be learning tonight. Is the structure clear? Good. Senior members, I want you to split into two groups: one will stay here teaching and reviewing basic shields and hexes. The other half, go with Professor Snape where you will be learning more advanced shields. In a half-hour we will switch. Hop to it!” He shouted as he shot sparks from his wand, galvanizing the students into action.

Harry, Hermione and some of the other members took the new students over to one side of the room where Harry began showing them Expelliarmus. One of the new students tried to get smart with him until he pointed out that this one spell was what saved him until his father arrived with the Aurors last spring. He had Neville demonstrate the spell on Harry then paired up the seniors with several new members, spreading the wealth and making it easier to teach. Thanks to many years of hap-hazard defence teaching, there was a wide range of abilities. Even some older members were having problems at first until a senior member came by and corrected their stance or pronunciation. Within the allotted time, everyone had managed to hit a target with the spell – maybe not as strongly as they should have, but the start was there. Many of the newer members were looking at their tutors with awe in their eyes and a new sense of accomplishment in their hearts.

At the thirty-minute mark, the groups switched and Draco took lead showing the new members a standard shield charm. This caught on quite quickly and the last ten minutes of this section had mock battles occurring on their side of the room with Draco, Pansy and others correcting stances, pronunciation and wand movements until everyone had managed to correctly cast both spells earning smiles all around.

Meanwhile, Hermione had wandered over to the bookcases and could be seen riffling through a huge book, a long roll of Parchment in front of her. When Severus called time, Hermione grinned with satisfaction, put her book away and grabbed her quill and parchment. She took her professors aside as everyone sat on the floor, relaxing.

“Everyone, please pay attention to Miss Granger,” Severus announced after they turned to face the students.

“Well, I thought with all the new students being added we ought to commemorate this day with a declaration of intent. If you sign this, you are agreeing to keep this club a secret. Also, any new members we get we can add to the roll.” She laid the roll down on the table in front of her and signed her name as the students began to line up behind her to add their signature.

“Let me add,” Severus stated, “that if you do not sign, you will not be allowed back in to this group.” He stared down the line but, although there was some foot shuffling, none left the queue.

“Are meetings going to be regular?” someone in the back of the line asked. “Only, we have Quidditch practice once our team gets re-approved...” There were several murmurings from like minded individuals, none doubting that their captains would garner that approval; school without Quidditch? Impossible.

“For now they will be every Wednesday evening here in the Room. This is our commitment to you as you must make the commitment to learn,” Bill pointed out. “If it looks as if that may not work, we will find a way to let you know of any changes. If anyone would like to research... Of course, Hermione.” Bill grinned as Hermione’s hand nearly took his nose off in her eagerness to volunteer. “Now, just to play it safe, we are going to let you out of here in small groups – hopefully to keep Umbridge’s curiosity down.”

The two men walked over to the door and checked outside for any stray students, cats or professors. Finding the coast clear, they let the first group leave, letting them get out of sight before letting the next group go, sending them off in the opposite direction. When all had signed the parchment and were well on their way, including his sons and Bill, Severus pulled close the door watching it melt back into the wall so that it was back to solid granite again. He pulled a spare bit of parchment from his pocket, checked it to make sure everyone reached their destinations safely, then replaced it and took his time patrolling the corridors back to the dungeons, a sense of satisfaction suffusing him.