Harry stood at the entrance to the seventh floor corridor where the entrance for the Room of Requirement was hidden. He was making sure that no un-authorized persons were going to see the small clumps of students wending their way towards this part of the castle. He’d already set Crookshanks on his weekly date with Mrs Norris and he distinctly had the impression that the orange kneazle was getting highly annoyed with him. He’d have to make it up to him at the end of term.

He nodded in greeting to students as they passed him, shushing excited younger years here on their first visit. He finally spotted his brother’s tell-tale shock of platinum hair bent over a much shorter head of pale blonde hair, his girlfriend on the other side lending her support as well. As they drew closer, he could tell that the younger student, Luna, had red-rimmed eyes and he hurried over, drawing them to the side away from prying eyes.

“What happened?” he asked Hermione.

“Dean went back to Ginny – he was trying to see both of them at the same time but Ginny made him choose. He told Luna this afternoon. Draco – No!” she hissed.

But Draco had spotted Thomas approaching the corridor and had growled a warning, nearly making it to the terrified Gryffindor before Bill had raised a shield between them.

“Gentlemen, no fighting in the corridors! Thomas, get in here, now – Draco, calm down and get a hold on your temper!” he warned over his shoulder as he waved his arms at some straggling Slytherins who had to walk the furthest to reach the room, hurrying them along. They all shot malevolent looks at the seething Ravenclaw as Dean slid into the room behind them, gossiping in hushed voices as they obeyed their instructor.

Hermione soothed the younger girl as they followed soon after and Harry put a hand on his brother’s chest, halting him before he could take his temper into the practice room.

“Harry, let me go hex him!” Draco growled.

“No, I won’t let you do that. There are easier ways to get at him – and much more satisfying. Besides, you know Professor Weasley won’t let you duel against him in club tonight. Not now.”

Draco slumped against the wall, running a hand through his hair – messing it up even further. “He hurt her, Harry – even after we told him not to, he went and hurt her.”

“Yes, but so did Ginny – and she was Ginny’s friend first,” Harry pointed out. “I really should’ve realized what was going on – she was sitting on his lap the other night in the Common Room...” He frowned at himself, annoyed he’d missed the implications at the time. He really needed to start paying better attention.

“And you didn’t say anything? Harry!” Draco accused, verbally echoing Harry’s misgivings.

“Oi! I plead Umbridge!” Harry threw at him.

Draco sighed, “Fair enough. She would make common sense leave the room gibbering in fear.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. So, I say we just gained some more targets in the Prank War.”

A slow, but satisfied smirk transformed Draco’s face. “Brother, dear, you are a genius.”

“I have my moments,” Harry laughed. “Now, let’s get in there before the Toad comes along.” Laughing, they entered the room and managed to keep away from Ginny and Dean the rest of the night. Hermione kept Luna occupied with some research, the younger student not feeling up to practicing spells – but she was a crack researcher. And if some stray stinging hexes made their way to Dean’s buttocks – Professor Weasley said not one word.

)O-O(

One of the brilliant moves about targeting Umbridge until the Board of Governors could get moving was her reactions. By mid-week she had realized that she tended to always be in the vicinity of these occurrences. She started approaching corridor junctions warily, peering around corners before continuing on; staring at students with a paranoid glint in her eye, mumbling how she really hated children.

Peeves, the poltergeist, had spotted the target straight off and, after she had insulted Filch – which Peeves considered poaching on his own especial territory – he had joined in on the fun, raining water balloons on her periodically. Not just any ordinary water balloon – no, these had other... substances... in them than plain water.

Castle inhabitants who were unlucky enough to be in the vicinity when the balloons were launched could find themselves coated in Bubotuber pus, stinksap, bogies, squid ink and Bundimun secretions not to mention various sticky and staining food stuffs like cherry juice, honey and jam.  The students got used to hearing her wailing and storming off to her office to change, covered in every known foul viscous liquid known to wizard-kind and teachers were stockpiling late slips and teaching cleaning charms to the older students to help combat the problem. Oddly, no one had seen the Bloody Baron floating around all week.  

As the week progressed, and her temper darkened, so did her pink ensembles. She normally was seen in pale or bismuth-pink; nowadays, she was ranging in the more fuchsia range and the darkening expression on her face matched her couture.

When Hagrid had finally returned over the previous weekend, she had taken it upon herself to “inspect” his class-notes for the remainder of the term, sneering at him and insulting him the entire time. Very despondent after the interview, he’d talked to Harry and Draco when they’d finally managed some free time to go and visit their friend.

“She’s a piece o’ werk, ain’t she,” he’d commented to the boys, setting out rock cakes and tea. He looked over at Harry. “’Ow’s yer hand, Arry? Yer dad tol’ me what ‘appened.”

Harry glanced at the back of his hand, but slid the gaze back to the half-giant. “Better. Healed as much as it ever will; I’ll always have a scar, but I use it as a bit of a reminder – to trust my family more.” He rubbed his other hand over it, massaging out some small, phantom residual ache that always seemed to manifest when he thought about the detentions.

Hagrid patted Harry on the shoulder in sympathy, nearly pushing Harry off of his stool in his enthusiasm. “Yer a brave lad, ‘Arry – always ‘ave been. But yer right: trust in yer dad, ‘ee has experience, ya know.”

Harry nodded, sipping at his tea. He fully agreed. He gazed at Hagrid’s face where scratches and a deepening black eye could be seen. A large, poisonous green dragon steak that had previously been used to help draw out the pooling blood was now being eaten by Fang who had whined incessantly until being given the treat. “What happened to your face, Hagrid? Did the giants do that?”

“’Who told yeh about the giants?” Hagrid blustered, half-heartedly.

Draco just looked at their large friend. “We aren’t stupid, Hagrid –“

“I neveh said yeh were –“

“- we figured out that was where you were on your mission for the Headmaster,” Draco clarified. “Really, where else could he send you?”

 “Oh.” Hagrid visibly deflated, sitting down in his overlarge chair. “Well, in any case – don’t worry about me, just ran into a tree branch one night, tha’s all.”

The boys shared a look that clearly voiced their opinions that they did not believe this story, but they were too happy to have their large friend back to call him out on it. They spent the rest of the afternoon puttering in Hagrid’s garden and enjoying his tales of his adventures in the Ural Mountains.

)O-O(

Minerva McGonagall was just freshening up in the female teacher’s lounge, reapplying a sticking charm to some wayward bits of flyaway hair that just refused to stay in her neat bun when a crash of crockery and a strangled scream nearly made her shear her head with her wand as her spell overcharged in her shock.

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” she questioned the mirror.

“No idea, deary, but Madam Umbridge’s room shares a wall with this lounge,” it suggested.

“Does it really?” Minerva smirked. She barely had time to school her features when an irate and dishevelled Dolores Umbridge hurried into the lounge, red-faced and breathing hard.

“Oh, Minerva, good. You’re here,” she sounded relieved as she spotted the Deputy Headmistress.

“How astute, Dolores,” Minerva catted back. “Dolores! Unhand me at once!” she protested as the harried woman grabbed onto her elbow, dragging her through the door.

“My rooms – you must see my rooms! Someone has been in there..., done something!” She continued dragging Minerva through the door and over one more to the portrait entrance to her rooms, which was hanging wide open.

“Dolores, how many times do I have to keep telling you to seal your portrait when you leave? You are just asking for trouble leaving it ajar like this!” the older woman scolded in condescending tones.

“It was closed, all day! I left it open just now – not earlier. That’s not the point!” she complained exasperatedly, stomping a foot in temper. “This is!” She threw open the portrait door further to display... Mayhem.

An overturned slop jar, still dripping slugs, that clearly had started out poised above the door, was rolling on the floor at their feet – a smear of slugs, who were slowly inching their way across the floor to darker, danker areas of the room, still fresh on the polished oak floorboards. Each previously pink wall sported a new colour of the rainbow, her quill pens were stuck nib first into a hitherto unknown dartboard that sported an unflattering picture of Dolores on Hagrid’s lap. Dead centre.

Her infamous mewling kitten plates were unnaturally silent, all of the kittens frozen in place, wide-eyed and mid-mew, their sharp teeth looking particularly vicious. In her bedchamber, just through the opposite door, could be seen rough woollen blankets on top of what appeared to be even rougher woven sheets, almost burlap in texture. Snuffling noises could be heard from the other room and soon a tinkling sound of precious metals hitting the floor was heard and Madam Umbridge began steaming under her collar – literally. Minerva took her time replying as what she originally wanted to say was entirely un-politic.

“Dolores, calm down, it’s probably just a Niffler – most likely someone’s idea of a joke. This mess can be fixed in a jiffy. Dobby!” she called out to the thin air and Umbridge nearly jumped a foot when the strangest house-elf she’d ever laid eyes on popped into existence right in front of her. Today, Dobby was dressed in two different colour socks – one with snitches chasing around the cuff, the other with cute baby dragons snorting smoke, a tea cosy on his head situated so that the points of his ears poked through the holes, and a handmade Jumper that hung to his knees that McGonagall would have sworn came from Molly’s knitting needles. His eyes were wide as he took in the enraged politician and the smirking Headmistress.

“Headmistress Kitty needs Dobby’s help?” he asked politely, while ignoring Umbridge.

“Minerva – you allow your servants to dress like – like this? And speak to you in such a manner?” Dolores ranted.

“Madam, control yourself; Dobby is a free elf and works for pay. How he dresses is up to him. Our free elves are not required to wear a uniform – only those that are bonded to the castle.”

“What a disgrace!” Umbridge spat, continuing to mutter under her breath.

Minerva ignored her as she turned to face the House-elf. “Dobby, I believe there is a Niffler in Madam’s bedroom – and could you clean up, as best as possible in here?”

Dobby looked around at the devastation. “Dobby thinks it looks better this way but if yous wants it back to normal – “ he clicked his fingers thrice and each time an area was restored to it’s former pink paradise.  A final snap brought the madly digging rodent soaring through the air past Umbridge’s nose, causing her to step back with a squeal, and landing in Dobby’s arms.

“Thank you, Dobby. Good job – I’ll take this little guy, then,” she said, dismissing the elf and cradling the creature who was finding a brooch holding the front edges of her collar closed, fascinating. A flick of her wand restored the kittens to their former mewling state. “Now, let me fix you a cup of tea,” another flick and the teapot began emitting a fragrant steam. She dropped the Niffler into one of her robe pockets and busied herself at the tea tray on the sideboard, eventually floating a cuppa to the other woman. Sipping from a bracing cup herself, she sighed in satisfaction looking around at the completed office.

“If that is all, Dolores, I’ll be putting this lad in the forest,” she said, patting her robes and placing the cup and saucer on the sideboard.

“Forest? Forest! It was that half-giant Oaf who did this!” she declared, coming out of her previous stupor.

“Hagrid?” Minerva scoffed. “Really, that is reaching, Dolores. Why would Hagrid want to do this?”

“Because I was going to fire him, that is why!” Umbridge blurted out.

“Well, really, Dolores that is going too far. He hasn’t even been back a week!” the Headmistress protested.

Umbridge leaped on that statement immediately. “And where has he been? Told me he was ‘getting fresh air’! He’s a games-keeper; he’s in the fresh air every day! No, No!” she protested, clicking across her floor. “I will have order! He’s been shirking his duties to his students! Besides – Professor!” she scoffed. “Hah! He never finished school, didn’t even take his OWLs – how can he qualify for being a professor. No, things are too lax around here, Minerva; it is time to restore Hogwarts to its former glory.”

Minerva shook her head, mindful of the pocket full of inquisitive sharp nose she had in her possession. “Well, I wish you luck with that – I’m off,” she stated sarcastically.

“Why, thank you, Minerva!” The woman visibly preened.  Apparently Umbridge did not appreciate the art of the catty comment, as she sounded quite sincere in her acceptance. McGonagall sighed and left the office – heading out towards the grounds where she could loose the Niffler safely.

)O-O(

The snickering was following her again. Every group of students she passed would end up whispering to each other and laughing behind their hands. When she turned to glare at them, they would scamper off. Something was off. She checked her heels; the seam in her hose wasn’t crooked, her skirt was turned correctly, her robes were on right side out; what was the matter with these hellish children?

Her scream, as she walked past a mirror, was the stuff of legends. It was heard as far away as the owlery, causing the sleeping owls to all bolt from their ledges and take off for quieter trees in the forest.

)O-O(

Flitwick passed the mead bottle over to Pomona Sprout as he chuckled into his own glass as the house heads and Pomfrey passed a Friday evening at The Three Broomsticks. “Minerva, where did you get that potion? Never mind... I know where!” he laughed, his merry eyes meeting Severus’ black pools. Every time he thought of Umbridge sporting the face of a Calico cat... he lost the plot.

Severus looked askance, and perfectly innocent, as he enjoyed his own refill of Rosmerta’s marvellous brew. “I have absolutely no idea what you are hinting at, Filius. Me? Supply Minerva with a prank potion? Obviously you have me mixed up with my two ginger-haired apprentices.”

“Oh, but of course!” Filius agreed, still giggling.

“Although, I have to admit your invisible Kitten brigade was a brilliant touch,” Severus complimented, nodding in the charms master’s direction. All day long invisible kittens – only visible to Umbridge and the Ghosts of the castle – followed the Ministry Official around, entwining around her legs, mewling constantly, chasing each other’s tails, causing havoc around the woman.

She had woken up to the Female Ghosts of the castle in her bedchamber cooing over the kittens on her floor. When she had eventually managed to step into her office, she realized where the kittens had come from – her decorative plates were empty. She had no idea how to cancel the charm and when she entreated Filius and the Headmaster, they both looked at her as if she was bonkers; neither claimed that they could see or hear the meowing felines.

“At this rate, she may leave of her own accord! With any luck at all...” Poppy snorted.

“Good riddance if she does,” Minerva agreed. “But that does not negate what she did to our students, nor will it absolve her of facing the board for her crimes,” she darkly pronounced.

They all nodded their agreement on that pronouncement.

“So what is in store for the weekend?” Poppy asked.

“It’s a secret,” Filius declared. “The twins and Sirius Black have been working on two very special projects. One will be revealed tomorrow morning, the other at the Hallowe’en feast Sunday evening. Both are brilliant pieces of work – definitely NEWT level in several disciplines,” he pronounced proudly.
“If it doesn’t get them expelled first,” he mumbled at the end. He shared a look with Severus and they both smirked in tandem causing Minerva to snort in amusement.

Severus cleared his throat of the thick drink and tapped Minerva on the knee. “You better keep an eye on Dean Thomas – he seriously pissed off my sons.”

“What did he do now?” she sighed in resignation.

“You haven’t heard? He two-timed with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. Draco’s first real friend in Ravenclaw was Miss Lovegood and he fiercely protects her as a sister. Apparently he had warned Thomas not to break her heart, and the boy did so anyway.”

“On his own head be it, then,” she declared. “But I won’t tolerate any pranks that cause permanent injury; you may tell them that for me.”

“Consider it done.”

)O-O(

“What’s that smell?” Ron asked, wrinkling his nose the next morning as they descended the myriad of stairs down to breakfast.

“It smells like...” Hermione searched for the right word.

“What Dagobah would smell like if Star Wars had smell-o-vision,” Harry commented, clapping a hand over his own mouth and nose. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him – impressed that he knew such a cultural reference, given his previous upbringing.

Harry saw the look and defended himself. “Hey, Dudley had all the movies on VHS – I snuck them out of his room one night when the family was at one of Uncle Vernon’s dinners,” he explained. Ron just looked baffled as his eyes bounced between his two friends.  

“All three?” Hermione questioned.

“Awards dinner,” he clarified. It was one of the best nights he could ever remember having at his relatives. He had snuck the videos out of Dudley’s room as soon as Vernon had left the driveway – having jimmied the lock on his bedroom – and pilfered some snacks from Dudley’s hidden stash under his bed and settled in for the night. He bet he had a better time that night than they did.

As they got closer to the first floor, the scrum of students grumbling in front of them got louder and the stink in the air was definitely more potent as was the humidity. In fact, as they stood there, Hermione’s hair was bushing out further and further as it kinked up in the moist, foetid air.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, craning his neck. He was the tallest of the three and used his advantage to see over the heads of the students below them. What he saw caused a burst of brotherly pride, and he grinned from ear to ear before bursting out in laughter.

“Oh, they are so getting a howler from Mum, but that is brilliant! Disgusting, but brilliant!” he chortled.

“What?” Harry prodded his friend.

“The twins have turned the entrance hall into a swamp, complete with Alligators, Mangrove trees and stagnant swamp water. I just saw Hagrid floating in the firstie boats so that they could use them to get across the hall. He and Filch are starting to ferry kids across to the Great Hall. Watch out – here comes Umbridge with Dumbledore!”

They could hear her screeching voice as it carried across the open expanse of the entrance hall, cutting across Hagrid’s booming instructions of, “Only four to a boat!”

“Dumbledore, do something! We can’t have a swamp in the school!” she complained, batting away unhelpfully at a swarm of midges that had gathered in a stinging cloud around her.

“It’s Saturday, madam; the Saturday before Hallowe’en, I might add. I find this well within the spirit of the season – why, notice the jack-o-lanterns in the trees and the bats flying around. Fine attention to detail,” he pointed out proudly. Spotting the trio across the hall, he winked at them. “Besides, Filius already tried to cancel the charms – he says it didn’t work. May take him the rest of the weekend to figure it out.”

Harry frowned; he was still upset with the Headmaster. What was the man playing at? He tugged at Hermione’s jumper to grab her attention. “Did you just see that? Do you think he knows what happened? Do you think he is turning a blind eye to the pranks?”

She took her time before answering, but finally declared, “Yes, yes and yes.”

“So do I,” he agreed grimly as they slowly made their way down the stairs to the impromptu dock. “C’mon, it’s our turn.”

The three stepped into the next boat in line, a tiny Hufflepuff first year joining them. She spent the whole trip staring at the three infamous Gryffindors as the boat glided across the thick, smelly water, eyes wide in awe as they kept pinpointing the tip of Harry’s scar that poked out from underneath his fringe. He tried to ignore her, but it was difficult. Silecia poked her head out from under Harry’s sleeve as the snakes in the trees hissed their greetings to her and Harry, causing the little girl to squeak in fright. Hermione took pity on her and attempted to calm her down, but the child bolted from the boat as soon as they reached the landing in front of the doors – nearly upsetting the row-boat and dumping the Lions into the water.

Draco was laughing from the “beach-head” where he had waited for his brother and girlfriend to land. “Merlin, Harry, what did you do?” he offered his hand to Hermione first, giving her a quick peck while the two boys just hopped out, groaning as they landed ankle-deep in mud. “Should’ve waited,” he advised.

“Absolutely nothing, it was Silecia – she was only saying hello to the snakes in the trees,” Harry said defensively. “Isn’t this brilliant? Hey, is Dad in there yet?” he nodded toward the Great Hall while wandlessly cleaning his shoes and jeans, sending off a second set of cleaning spells at Ron.

“About five minutes ago, he took one look and disappeared through the doors. Why?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out why – Hermione, fill in Ron, would you? And save me some toast?” Nodding yes, she steered Ron through the doors and over to the Gryffindor table while the brothers walked to the Head Table where Professors McGonagall, Snape and Weasley were already deep into their morning caffeine habits.

“Professors, may I have word?” Harry asked solicitously, standing in front of their section of the table on the dais.

“What is it, Harry?” Snape enquired, raising his eyes from his morning Prophet.

“In the entrance hall just now the Headmaster winked at me and my friends. He wasn’t being helpful at all to Umbridge.”

“Madam Umbridge, Potter-Snape,” McGonagall automatically corrected under her breath. Harry glared at her.

“Only when she earns it,” he snapped back, but quietly. Bill snorted in his tea and Minerva studied Harry for a moment, taking in the raised eyebrow he quirked at her before pursing her lips and burying her nose back in her morning reading. Taking that as an acknowledgment that she grudgingly agreed, he looked back at his father.

“I believe the Headmaster is coming to understand what he has let into the castle,” Severus stated.

“Harry thinks he knows about the Quill,” Draco interjected. Severus nodded, his long hair swinging past his cheekbones.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He does have his own sources of information and once the children spread the rumours, the portraits were bound to spread the word as well.” He settled back in his chair sipping at his large mug of steaming java. “I believe he is also aware of who is responsible for the pranks and is letting them proceed unabated.”

“Should they stop?” Harry asked, quite worried.

“Goodness, no!” Minerva pounced. “They are driving her batty, and it’s letting the students let off some steam. Besides, I’m told something special is happening tomorrow night and I can’t wait!” She practically purred into her tea in excitement.

“Now, off to breakfast with you two, before she gets in here,” she advised, shooing them away from the table.

The boys shrugged and headed back to the table where their friends were waiting, already loaded plates at their seats.

“So, are you two taking off again this year?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry nodded his head. He was actually looking forward to visiting his parent’s gravesite again. He wanted to feel his mum’s spell seeping through the earth and hugging him in warmth.

“We’re heading out this afternoon. We’ll be back tomorrow before the feast,” he said.

“Oh, you have to be back in time for the feast!” George intimated.

“Absolutely! Can’t miss the fun we have planned!” Fred interjected.

Hermione sighed in resignation. “Do I want to know?”

“No!” they said together grinning maniacally, each clapping a hand on her shoulder and rising from the table. “You should definitely leave it as a surprise.”

“There they are! I know it was them!” came a screech from the doorway. Umbridge and Dumbledore had made it across the swamp and were now entering the Great Hall. Dumbledore appeared pristine, but Madam had obviously wrong-footed it out of the boat and was still dripping mud off the edges of her pink day-robes, shoes squelching as she walked next to him. 

Dumbledore sighed and summoned the twins over. “Did you two create the swamp in the entrance hall?”

The twins looked at each other as if weighing their answer before jointly stating, “No.”

“Well, Dolores, they didn’t create it – I’m afraid it will remain a mystery for now and we will have to give Filius and Bill some more time to break the enchantments on it. Marvellous bit of charm work, I must say, definitely NEWT level work...” he commented, leading the dishevelled administrator up the central aisle to the head table. The twins took the hint and hoofed it out of the hall after sketching quick salutes to the rest of the room.

They passed Ginny and Dean as they were coming in and took hold of their sister by the elbows, dragging her back out with them. Dean, mouth open in shock at having his girlfriend bodily removed from his side, slouched over to the table and spotting Draco’s glare, sat far away from the other fifth-years.

“What do you think they are saying?” Hermione asked, looking worriedly at the doors that hid the three Weasley siblings.

“Reading her the riot act,” Ron commented. “I’d have joined in, but she listens to them more. And – there goes Bill,” he pointed out, spotting his eldest brother circumnavigating the room, heading for the door. He slipped out and Ron looked as if he really wanted to go out as well, but Harry put a hand on his friends shoulder.

“Stay; she’ll need one brother she can run to later,” he pointed out.

“But I don’t like what she did either!” Ron protested.

“I didn’t say you had to like it, I just said she would need a brother she can turn to after they are done. She won’t want to talk to those three later, but you can at least be a somewhat sympathetic ear.”

Ron played with his food for a moment, sneaking looks at the door every so often. “I guess,” he finally agreed. “Can I at least do something to Dean?” he pleaded.

“Be my guest, Weasley,” Draco said. “We even have some ideas up our sleeves. Care to join us? You can even carry some of them out while we’re gone – that way he’ll never know who to blame.”

Ron visibly brightened at that. “Count me in!”

Hermione just huffed into the book she had propped behind her plate. Boys.