Beta: Cloudy

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

In my mind palace I sat beside Tom as I watched him redraw the ritual circle for the homunculus body. I had become better at reading the runes, finally able to understand a lot of the ground work.

Tom's fingers waved in the air as he used his magic to draw glowing lines. "Hm. I think—I think in a month or so I'll be ready to try again. Maybe."

"What's the hold up?" I asked him.

"Some ingredients... I'm trying not to use anything that would be dangerous," he said after a moment of consideration.

"What kind of things do you think you'll need?"

"Cadavers," he answered. "As close to the body type as I can get."

"I can send out some feelers for that," I said. "Ooo, will this be my first Dark ritual since cadavers would count as a Dark ingredient?"

"Yes, congratulations on your first step into the evil realm of Dark," snarked Tom. "Although you did already attempt this last year, so it's really your Dark second ritual."

I giggled. "Thank you. A dead body isn't so bad though, is it really that dangerous?"

"No. Blood, bones, and other such nonsense rarely perturb a ritual. No, no. What might make this dangerous is if I can't find a substitute for a life-binding," answered Tom, dark eyes closing in a moment of thought.

I tilted my head, unfamiliar with the term. "What's that?"

Tom frowned. He ran his fingers through his thick dark hair before answering. "It's—it's a—you get it when you bottle someone's dying breath. Depending on how they died will change the breath. Someone in a lot of pain would create a breath that would be used as a binding ingredient. Someone passing in peace would create a breath that would be freeing."

"And you need a binding?"

"At the moment, I think so," he said, continuing to peer at his ritual. "My soul wasn't able to bind properly to the body which caused it to rapidly decay and send me back to you."

"Hm." I tapped my chin. "Hm. Yeah that'd definitely be considered dark. That'd, uh, literally require torturing someone to death."

"Yes."

"Hm. Hm. Not something one can buy off the market, is it?"

"Not normally, no. I certainly never found a buyer," answered Tom with a shrug. "Malfoy had some spare that I experimented with over Christmas, so I am vaguely familiar with what it should look like."

"Do you know how to—er—make it yourself?"

"I know the steps, but I can't say I've ever done it myself," came Tom's eloquent response. His shoulders lifted up into a small shrug.

Scratching at my cheek, I asked, "How much does it go? Like, if I were to do the ritual to obtain the item... would it be a one time use thing, or can we get some mileage out of it?"

Tom did not respond for a minute as he considered my question. "The more pain the subject is in prior to death, the stronger the binding it can create and therefore the less we'll need for my ritual."

"Hm. Hm."

Am I ready to cross that line?

I emotionally and mentally knew I was capable of murder, but could that stretch into torture? Could I do what Voldemort did to me?

It wasn't something I could say no to, nor was it something I could easily say yes to. As a whole I felt better when helping people, but it didn't bother me when I hurt others. I could steal, manipulate, and torment my enemies without batting an eye. I could ruin marriages—families—with my scandals just because I didn't agree with their political view, or I considered them too strong of a political union. It was one thing to harass someone on a verbal or psychological front, but to actively participate in physical torture?

It...

It didn't perturb me.

Under the right circumstances, I could see myself participating in such a thing, but it wasn't a savory idea.

I tried to picture the faces of people I would be willing to do such. I could comfortably say that I'd be delighted to Crucio Voldemort a few times. I'd already committed myself to tearing Peter Pettigrew apart limb by limb—that was not an exaggeration, I was literally going to find a way to have him stretched and torn apart slowly and painfully—but after that it got harder to commit. I didn't think I could do such a thing to a complete stranger without a strong reason—for example, I'd do it without hesitation if it would directly result in saving Harry's life.

Could I do it for political enemies? Maybe. Could I do it for fun? No, I wasn't a sadist. I never took pleasure from hurting others.

To me, pain was a tool to use.

I never considered how... comfortable I was to use it, though.

Hmm. Food for thought.

I said, "It'd be best to look for a substitution. To be frank, I don't know if I'd be able to do such a thing to a stranger over something not even guaranteed to work."

Tom inclined his head. "Understandable."

"If I get a hold of Peter Pettigrew though we'll milk him for all the Dark ingredients we need," I promised him.

Or if someone else pisses me off enough... hmm. I don't know, that's a pretty far jump from politics and murder to active torture.

Speculation would get me nowhere. Hopefully, I wouldn't need to find out.

Tom chuckled. "As you wish."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Sirius and I got up early in the morning to attend the hearing. Sirius had a sneaky suspicion they'd try to pull some shenanigans and wanted me to be there as soon as possible.

"We can hang around Arthur's office until it's time," he said. "But I would rather you be there early than risk arriving on time."

"Risk?"

"Something Mother would pull," he muttered darkly. "Eat up and get dressed, princess."

Remus had picked out my clothes. A modest dress with tights, heeled boots, and a dark cloak. A standard outfit for a noble witch. He fussed with my hair for a bit before I humored him and put it into a quick braid to the side.

"Too much of James's curls," Remus muttered.

"I know, I'm gorgeous," I said. "Welp, off to cause mayhem and chaos."

Remus kissed my forehead. "Behave, princess of mayhem and chaos."

"If you get through the whole meeting without scaring the daylights out of any Ministry workers, I'll treat you to another unicorn," promised Sirius.

I lightly kicked him in the shins, eliciting a warm chuckle from him.

"Come along then," said Arthur. "We'll take the Muggle way!"

"How long have you wanted to do that?" I asked.

"Years," answered Arthur with a smile.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

The Muggle-way was through a tight phone booth. We were directed down to the depths of the Ministry hidden under London. After signing in we were allowed to go past golden gates to officially enter.

At the entrance we stood at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a House Elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard.

Holy hell the arrogance.

Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the House Elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

Oh God this hurts to look at.

Thankfully I didn't have to linger long. We were lucky enough to have a memo sent our way to warn us about the change in the meeting time and place, so we headed straight on to the hearing.

I was unceremoniously shuffled inside by myself. Guardians were only used if the child was under thirteen.

Not that I needed it.

I headed into the courtroom, admiring how overly dramatic, dark, and dreary it looked.

"You're late."

By a fucking minute, prick.

I shot him a flat look in return. I took a seat at the only seat available in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. At least I didn't see any dried blood on it. I crossed my ankles, lounging comfortably in the ominous chair as I assessed my targets.

There were about fifty of them, all wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left-hand side of the chest. They stared down their noses at me, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge and on his right was Dolores Umbridge.

I wonder if he'll hang himself when I'm done with him? No, too fearful of death I think.

It never specified what happened to him afterward—or if it did, I didn't remember. The man before me seemed terribly full of himself. He had become nothing short of irritation.

When I thought of my dear brother in my place, fearfully sitting down on a chair meant for murderers as that man smirked above him—

My hands curled into fists, a cold smile on my lips.

Let's play.

"Very well," said Fudge. "The accused being present—finally—let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row.

"Yes, sir," said Percy Weasley, his voice eager.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery by Rosaline Lily Potter, resident at sixteen, Cherrygrove, Warwickshire.

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley—"

"—Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind me.

Aw, shit. Now I have to behave.

Dumbledore caught my sulky look and he winked at me. There went my plan to start whipping out the blackmail. Damn it, Plot.

"Ah," said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Dumbledore. Yes. You—er—got our—er—message that the time and—er—place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done."

"Yes—well—I suppose we'll need another chair—I—Weasley, could you—?"

"Not to worry, not to worry," said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to me. Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.

"You totally stole my thunder," I side-whispered to him.

"Forgive me," he whispered back, eyes twinkling. "Your godfather was concerned you might... be a touch cruel."

I smiled humorlessly in response.

"Yes," said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. "Well, then. So. The charges. Yes."

He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, "The charges against the accused are as follows: That she did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, produce a Patronus Charm which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875,

"You are Rosaline Lily Potter, resident at sixteen, Cherrygrove, Warwickshire?" Fudge condescendingly demanded, glaring at me over the top of his parchment.

"Yes."

"You conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.

I stared back. "I protected my brother from a dementor attack."

"Ah. That. We had seen the article, those fake memories you fed to the Prophet," said Fudge in a snide tone.

I placed a hand over my chest. "I am willing to give you the memories to re-examine in a pensive. Or, if the court so desires, I am willing to take Veritaserum and re-affirm that I conjured my Patronus to protect my brother from dementors on that night."

There was a rush of quiet mutterings. Fudge's face screwed up like he bit into something unpleasant.

"Actually, if there is any doubt to the validity of that statement I would insist upon using it," I said with a sweet smile.

"The—That—The use of veritaserum is not necessary for a hearing under the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery—"

"That's right," I admonished, my eyes widened with false surprise as I placed a hand over my cheek. "Forgive me, Minister. Since it's already so unprecedented for the entire Wizengamot assembly to be called forth for such a minor first time offense, I thought maybe we were breaking tradition further.

"I mean... you already have broken tradition several times, Minister," I went on sweetly. "You're the very first Minister of Magic to call the whole Wizengamot to stand trial over a young witch casting magic outside of school. Oh, what's another one of your firsts? Hmm. Oh! That's right, you are the first Minister of Magic who lost a prisoner at Azkaban."

Fudge's face darkened purple as some members gave him blatantly annoyed side-eyes. A few members near him shifted their postures to subtly face away from him, a deliberate and quiet act of dissociating themselves from him.

I made notes of the ones who were already turning from him, pleased that the majority had already mentally dropped Fudge.

Enough were ready for his dismal already. They only needed the trigger that would grab him and all those on his side.

Patience would reward the clever hunter.

"What else, what else? Oh, weren't you the first to host the Triwizard Tournament that ended in a contestant being tortured?" I chuckled mirthlessly as a few more members turned away from Fudge. "The first to get caught drunk at a foreign party? The first to win the position not by popular vote, but because no one else cared to race against you?"

"ENOUGH!" barked Fudge. "Reciting old gossip does nothing for your case."

I placed my finger over my lips, my smile stretched. "I'm curious, Minister Fudge. Will you be the first one to conduct a full criminal trial for an underage witch performing a Patronus outside Hogwarts?"

The seats shifted uncomfortably. The minority that had not positioned themselves away from the Minister lowered their gazes and refused to meet my own.

Ten.

I counted ten remaining seats that openly stood with Fudge, and of those ten, eight were already showing signs of shame.

My eyes flickered about to the empty seats of those I had already pressured out of office.

I licked my lips, a thrill of anticipation jolting through me.

"So close. To maximize the blow I only need to catch a few more."

"You—I—We are here to judge a serious breach of magical law!" thundered Fudge.

"Ah," I said. "Yes. Terribly serious. Terribly serious."

I raised my wand and conjured my Patronus then and there to the scandalized gasps of the Wizengamot.

"Terribly serious," I agreed as I watched my fox prance about. "Yes. Dangerous things, aren't they?"

Fudge was mutinous. "Do—Do you take this as a joke?"

"Don't you?" I retorted. "A criminal trial for a Patronus! A Patronus!"

"Very impressive to see a corporeal one at your age," praised Bones, amused at how my fox danced around her before hopping around to other members. It pranced about, lingering a moment on some of my allies like Greengrass and Longbottom.

The natural aura of a Patronus was one of light, warmth, and joy. Its mere presence brought a reflexive smile out of the members of the Wizengamot. Indeed, it was plain to see many of them were endeared by how cutely I made it behave. A quick, bright, and vibrant reminder of exactly what spell I was being charged for. Its sweet demeanor would help them correlate the idea that I was still but a child.

A child being criminally charged for casting such a sweet and innocent spell.

Ah.

Yes.

The shame and disgust in some of their eyes as they looked over at Fudge was delightful. Even the pro Death Eaters were finding it hard to retain their disdain over such an obvious ploy.

There was no Slytherin grace or cunning to Fudge's actions. He was so terribly easy to read. The pro Dark seats didn't like Fudge, but it was to their advantage to keep him. Or so they would think for now.

But two sides could take advantage over an incompetent leader. While Fudge focused his attention on Rosaline Potter and Dumbledore, my alias moved behind the scenes to whisper discourse in his most loyal followers.

His obsession continued to lay the groundwork for me.

"It is a first for a trial to ever be held for a Patronus," snarked one of the members, their voice just loud enough for us to hear but quiet enough to not pinpoint where it came from. There was a general murmur of displeasure spread across the seats.

Dumbledore clapped a hand on my shoulder and my Patronus faded.

"The brazen nature of my charge aside... As far as I am aware there is no law yet in place that says it is this court's job to hold court for every bit of underage magic performed. Indeed, the last time the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery hasn't even been called upon in over a decade if I recall correctly and certainly never over a non-harmful spell not even performed in the presence of Muggles... Yet, here we are." Dumbledore paused, his eyes twinkling. "Another first for the history books."

Dumbledore put his fingertips together again and said no more. Fudge glared at him, incensed.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" said Madam Bones' booming voice.

It was plainly obvious over half the hands were raised.

"And those in favor of conviction?"

And that's that, I thought as I made mental notes over who else just made my Shit List™.

Fudge glanced around at the lack of support on his side, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and then said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well, very well . . . cleared of all charges."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore.

"You really didn't need to come," I told him as he sprang to his feet.

"And yet, if I didn't I have the strangest feeling it wouldn't be a Patronus that you cast today," he said with an odd smile.

I wagged my finger at him. "How dare you think I would do anything so obvious. I'm way more fun than that."

He tipped his head in my direction. "What a rude thing for me to do."

"As long as you're aware. Good day, Grandpa."

"Good day, Granddaughter."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

"So you were tried by the full court of Wizengamot for using the Patronus outside Hogwarts... and you... proceeded to use the Patronus outside Hogwarts right in front of them?" Sirius sought to clarify, wanting to hear all about the meeting as soon as I was out.

"Yes."

"You've a Gryffindor heart, my little princess."

"How dare you say that to my face. Take it back."

"Heart of a lion," he went on.

"Stop it."

"Courage of a griffin."

"Last warning, Paddy."

"A proper Gryffindor," he whispered with the biggest shit-eating grin. I kicked him in the shins, hard. He laughed as he yelped in pain, clutching at his shin and hopping around.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Living at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was painfully dull. I wasn't able to sneak out at all which meant my heists were put to a miserable abrupt end. I couldn't write letters to any of my snake babehs, and while Harry's lion babehs were good company I wouldn't call them my friends. Fred and George made things fun while they could, but the two were more focused on inventing new pranks or ideas for their shop.

A lot of my time was spent in meditation, and thus tutoring from Tom, or in my studies.

I did a lot of studying that summer.

As pessimistically predicted, none of my international candidates were able to have their visas processed in time before school. I hoped it would be finished by October, and Dumbledore said Christmas would be the latest.

Which meant there was a solid chance of having to put up with Umbridge for at least one whole semester. Guaranteed no longer than that. She was dead as soon as I had those visas processed.

In fact I made a little promise to myself she'd be six feet under before Christmas morning.

Ugh. Would rather it be before school started. I hated the idea of letting Harry near her.

But if Fate was protecting her...

Argh. This is so frustrating.

I consoled myself that I could still kill her worst-case scenario. Somehow, someway, I'd figure it out. I'd unleash the basilisk if I had to.

It felt like things were at least better than canonical. I knew things were going to be drastically different once I pulled the rug out from under my competition, but I needed to be patient until then. I wanted to get as many of them out of my way as I could and to do that I had to wait for them to fall to me.

Voldemort hadn't broken anyone out of Azkaban, he was smart enough to take advantage of the chaotic situation and not reveal his hand too early.

I couldn't pull my strings until the pieces were in place. I'd sleep much better at night knowing the threats were properly neutralized and not lying in wait. I'd rather avoid going to Azkaban myself to kill them but if that evil shit wasn't going to bust them out by the end of year I'd go there myself next summer. It'd be nice to visit Booboo instead.

It'd be nice if I could come up with a way to draw him to the Ministry like canon without endangering Harry or risking the prophecy.

It wasn't as if I didn't have any ideas, but none of it could be set in stone. Voldemort was deranged yet still had flashes of sanity that allowed him to put together schemes. Trying to predict how he'd react to certain situations felt like trying to make a ball fall up instead of down.

Not to mention Harry hadn't told me his scar was bothering him. I could only conclude that his Occlumency training was drastically better than canon and he was successfully blocking out Voldemort. Which, hooray for my brother! But it made it harder to guess what Voldemort was going to do next.

I knew he wanted the Prophecy, but how was he going to go about getting it if he couldn't use Harry? I'd do a repeat of last year and offer myself up as bait if I could, but I couldn't even collect the prophecy myself since it wasn't about me.

What made him go there in the first place after Harry arrived? Did one of his Death Eaters tip him off about the Order showing up? Must have, I can't imagine why else...

Whatever.

For the moment I wasn't in a rush. Voldemort was a threat but currently not that big of a threat. Over half of his original army was gone: I had taken werewolves out of the equation and ruined dozens of his followers. He'd struggle to recruit in silence, which meant that as long as he remained hidden he wasn't as dangerous.

I knew that there'd still be plenty of racists and bigots who would leap at the chance to join his army—people out of my reach and sight. He could still amass a small army, but only when he revealed himself.

Trying to come up with some crazy plan and expecting a madman to follow it would be the height of folly.

Patience.

I needed to be patient.

Like a hunter in the shadows, waiting for the prey to approach.

Voldemort was a time bomb that hadn't even started ticking down.

I needed to keep my focus on the Ministry, and the upcoming school year.

I had marked all the major political families that I needed to remove and I only needed two more families to replace them with. Once they were in place, I could begin actively trying to lure Voldemort into the Ministry to reveal himself and trap my enemies.

Or hell. If I could just get Voldemort in a public enough setting like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley... a place where too many witnesses couldn't deny his presence.

Hm.

Dolores Umbridge... was definitely a more concerning matter. With no hope of getting a replacement prior to the start of the year I had to begin planning on how to manage her head-on.

Scenario one: Dolores is a bit insane, but not as overtly sadistic as canon portrayed. She's irritating but doesn't outright torture students. The curse takes care of her end of year and I don't need to do anything.

Optimistically unrealistic.

Scenario two: Dolores is an insane torture-fetish bitch.

It... frankly, it simply wasn't worth the cost of cashing in my political favors to pull her out of there if she was only harassing random students. Logistically speaking it wasn't worth the price I'd have to pay. Dolores had a significant amount of leverage in the Ministry and a good chunk of her own stash of blackmail and money. Ripping her out would be difficult unless I could drag her down with Fudge. It was doable, but not very cost-effective.

Murdering her would be best, but I felt like it would be risky until I had someone to fill her shoes. Fate kept her alive once, what if it kept her alive twice?

But ugh if she hurt Harry...

The thought... unsettled me. It made me clench my jaw and glared up at the ceiling.

I had done a lot to keep Harry safe. I had taken those Crucios for my brother, and I would do it again if it meant he didn't have to. The idea of some pink-clad woman torturing my brother infuriated me. The surge of sick loathing that shot through me was on par with the level of disgust I felt towards Peter Pettigrew.

What would I do if she gave him detention?

I would rip her fucking heart out.

I definitely couldn't remain level-headed enough to deal with her. If she hurt my brother it was game over for her one way or another.

If I absolutely had to deal with her, then I needed to keep Harry out of her grimy claws. My brother was a good boy, but his temper wasn't easily dealt with. If he directed his anger towards her, she'd gleefully use it as a way to entrap him. Harry wasn't equipped to deal with someone as conniving as her.

I was.

Let's see...

I needed a way to protect my babeh snakes, and my darling brother, while preparing to remove the pink tumor known as Umbridge.

Ah.

I think I just came up with a rather dashing plan. What a scheme! I thought to myself, trying not to giggle.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

As a precaution—just a precaution—I asked Sil (through Kreacher) to prepare a home in Hogsmeade for me in case I needed to attend to... a guest. I asked Tom to help pick out the equipment. I told Sil to make sure it was hooked up to my home at the Orchid through the floo.

Better to be prepared and not need it, than need it and not have it.

On the very last day of the holidays the Hogwarts letters arrived. I was sharing a room with Harry, although we had pushed our beds together. Since moving into Grimmauld we had unfortunately encountered several nightmares.

Neither of us really wanted to discuss them. We slept better when we had someone next to us.

More than one night Harry slipped into his animagus form so I could completely hold him to comfort him.

Last night had been a rough one, we both woke up from a dream too hazy to remember any of the details. We huddled under the blankets in our animal forms, finding more solace as a fox and cat than we could as humans. Harry was particularly keen to bury himself against my belly, very reminiscent to a kitten looking for its mother's milk.

I hadn't been able to sleep much after the nightmare, my mind wandering. Tom played some more word games with me, which helped a lot.

Harry dropped off the Hogwarts letter at the bed, his green eyes assessing me. "You going to nap today?"

"Nah. I'll try to sleep early," I said. I hadn't gotten out of bed yet. My brother brought up breakfast earlier. Sirius stopped by briefly to give me nuzzles and forehead kisses but he was busy with Order business like Remus so he didn't stay long.

Harry frowned. "Okay. Take care, Rosie."

"Mm-hmm."

My classes were the same as last year: DADA, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Runes, Language, and Care of Magical Creatures.

There was one new addition.

I stared at it.

No way.

There, at the bottom was Alchemy.

"You're seeing that, too, right?"

"I see what you see, Rosie. I see Alchemy. Congratulations on testing in early."

"But... but I didn't test in. I don't—I mean—huh?"

Not that I was complaining, but golly gee I didn't expect that at all. The prerequisite of Alchemy were Es or Os in Potions, Runes, and Arithrimacy during O.W.L.s. My O.W.S.L.s were this year, so there was no way I met the technical requirements.

My envelope was a touch heavier than expected, I dug further inside. There was a Prefect Badge inside but nothing else.

On one hand hooray for getting into Alchemy, but a part of me was perturbed. Alchemy was a class I had been planning to take with Harry next year. We had both worked hard learning math under Remus. Taking it before him rubbed me the wrong way.

I hoped it was a fluke. Or, maybe, Harry also had the class but didn't mention it to me out of concern it would upset me.

"Huh. I guess I'll ask a professor when I get there. I hope I'm actually qualified."

"You are."

"Thank you, Tom."

"You are welcome, Rosie."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

The following morning we were escorted to the train. Harry, Hermione, and I were Prefects so off to the Prefect Carriage we went. Draco was my Slytherin counterpart and he greeted me with a thin smile and tilt of the head.

The Head Boy and Girl gave us a quick rundown on what to expect, the meeting only lasting about thirty minutes then we were shuffled out.

"Rosie," said Draco. He had reached out to grasp my hand. I exchanged a look with Harry and the two of us nodded in understanding. Harry moved on while I followed Draco into a train compartment. Theodore and Tracey were already inside, they had saved the opposite bench for us. I put my bag up top then sat down, Tracey immediately moved to sit next to me.

"What's up?" I asked.

Tracey cut straight in. "You know what's going to happen this year, right?"

"I have some pretty good guesses, yeah." I pulled my hair out of its bun, running my fingers through it. "I've got some ideas on how to handle it as well, depending on you guys."

Theodore and Draco sighed with relief.

Theodore said, "Told you she'd have a plan."

"Not now," hissed Draco, pulling out his wand. He cast several spells on the cabin to prevent any eavesdropping. "Okay, Rosie you know—"

"I know your dad's a Death Eater. I saw him and Theodore's dad at, uh, the party."

Draco and Theodore exchanged uneasy looks.

"While I disagree with, uh, the viewpoints, they're your fathers so I'm not out for vengeance," I said, trying to reassure the boys. "I would prefer an honest answer from the two of you though—have you joined the Death Eaters?"

"Not of age," came Theodore's flippant response. "Father will expect me to join seventh year."

Theodore's not saying outright if he will or will not. Smart boy!

I smiled in approval. "Good. It would be ideal to stay neutral until the winning side is clear."

Theodore clapped my shoulder. "This is why we like you."

"And because I'm adorable?"

"That, too."

Tracey cleared her throat. "Rosie—I know you've never been one to fit a certain standard, but are you—are you okay?"

I blinked. "In what capacity? I've recovered from the Crucio torture. Sorry I wasn't able to write to you this summer, but I mean—"

"You know that half of Slytherin has parents who side with the Dark Lord," said Draco quietly. "It doesn't matter what our personal beliefs are. Our parents have expectations of us."

"I guessed as much." I crossed my legs. "But you're wrong. It does matter. What you believe—what you want—all of it matters to me. If you three want to honestly tell me here and now that you want to wholeheartedly support your parents I won't fight you. I'll let you go. On the other hand, if you want to tell me that some part of you isn't ready to commit to the Dark Lord, but don't want to fight your parents, then I might have a plan."

Draco's cool grey eyes met mine as he kept his face perfectly neutral. Years of practicing not to react in the onslaught of insults on the Roasting Throne, coupled with my scrutiny and guidance had helped nurture a wonderful poker face. He gave no hint one way or the other, merely inclined his head to show he was listening.

Gotta admit I was pretty proud of him at that moment. Made it hard not to beam.

I said, "I've reason to suspect someone nasty will come to Hogwarts. Someone who will report everyone's behavior back to the Ministry where it will undoubtedly reach your parents' ears... and the Dark Lord's. I've had issues with her in the past, I know how she works. Her name is Dolores Umbridge."

The three sat up.

I smiled sweetly, clapping my hands together. "I think our House should put on a show for her, don't you agree?"

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

The plan was agreed to—although there was discomfort about it—and refined throughout the train ride to Hogwarts. Theodore and Draco left to tell others, sending more into our cabin to make sure everyone was on board. Pansy got the news out quickly to the younger students, and the older students agreed with relief.

No one wanted a repeat of what happened my first year, but no one wanted to go against their parents. They were still children, after all.

It would be difficult enough for them to become independent. Their journey through puberty shouldn't be marred by needless conflict from what ought to be their support system.

The only one who made a stink about it was Daphne. She shoved her way into the cabin, cramming inside. As it was already full, she ended up in my lap. The strawberry blonde beauty was flippant as she told me, "I think your plan is stupid."

"It's not stupid," I defended.

"It's stupid," she insisted.

"How?"

Daphne said coolly, "I'm not one to abandon my friends. Expecting that of me makes it stupid."

"It's not abandoning if I'm asking you to play along," I insisted. "She can't come into our common room, and Professor Snape won't be her friend so he won't tattle. As long as no one tells the truth, everyone will benefit."

"That's right—if we act together our parents won't bother us," Tracey pointed out.

Daphne folded her arms over her chest. "I don't like it."

"You're a Greengrass, play neutral if you can't step up," said Theodore with a roll of his eyes. "Rosie's right. We all have parents who expect something from us, and no one wants to commit yet. It's in all of our best interest to go along. We harass Rosie while Umbridge is there, Umbridge reports to our parents, our parents are happy, and Rosie won't be suspected of her schemes this year 'cause everyone will think she's too meek and recovering from that thing. Even if Umbridge isn't gone by Christmas, the curse will get rid of Umbridge in a year."

Well. Everyone except Snape and Dumbledore, I thought. But they won't care to stop me.

My plan was pretty well thought out with only a couple hiccups needing worked out.

To the public eye, The House of Slytherin would have turned against Rosaline Potter and started to bully and harass her. Still distraught from being tortured last year, Rosaline Potter would have transformed into a meek victim, unable to stand up to those who were once her friends.

In private, we would remain steadfast. Or at the very least, neutral and on good-terms. No one wanted to actually piss me off, but no one wanted to go against their parents. My poor babeh were stuck between two dangerous predators—me and Voldemort.

Dolores would see poor, tormented Rosaline Potter. She'd revel in how outcast, defenseless, and weak she was. If she was as deranged and dangerous as canon hinted, she'd pounce on the chance to pour salt in an open wound. I would play the victim, bowing to the public bullying and showing her a demure face.

She would brag about it to Fudge who would brag about it to Lucius and all the other Death Eaters at the Ministry. Their children would be praised and their parents would garner further favor with Voldemort.

None outside would suspect it was all an act put upon by the House of Slytherin.

The children would appease their parents, Dolores would be none the wiser she was getting played.

She wouldn't suspect someone so weak capable of outsmarting her.

She would underestimate me.

That would be crucial in my plans for the year. I needed room to move around. If she believed me incapable of standing up to her, let alone conspiring anything, she wouldn't bother me. She wouldn't go out of her way to constantly hound me like she did canonical Harry. I would escape her constant gaze and be free to do what I needed.

Oh those bags under her eyes? They're from stress of being bullied, not because she snuck out of Hogwarts late at night to steal or experiment.

Oh she's been holed up in her room for so long? Must be too stressed and terrified to come out, deeeefinitely not sneaking out.

Oh she's in the medical wing? From getting beaten, not at all because of a backfired ritual.

And so on.

Ah, easy excuses here I come. Hooray!

"You don't think this won't have repercussions? We worked hard on regaining our image. The Slytherin House's reputation will be in tatters again," Daphne snapped.

"Until it's revealed it was a long term scheme," I said. "Then we'll look like bad-asses."

"And what about your brother?" she demanded.

"Ah. Yeah. I'm still working on that," I coughed. "He's a shit liar so I kinda don't want to let him in, but I really don't want you guys to deal with his harassment, y'know?"

Draco let out a soft scoff. "We can handle your meek brother."

Something about my gaze must have thrown my friends off because they gave me odd looks.

"He's, uh... developed a bit of a temper," I trailed off, staring out at the window.

"Fun," said Theodore. "Super fun."

"We can handle Harry."

"I don't want to," said Daphne.

"Oh, yeah. Are you guys together?" I asked her. "Harry never confirmed."

"Because we haven't decided. But if I start bullying you—scheme or not—I don't think he'll even be my friend," she muttered.

"Harry's not that narrow minded," Draco disagreed uncomfortably. "He would understand."

"How would you know?" Daphne asked with narrowed eyes.

Draco flushed. "He's as much my friend as he is yours."

"I still don't like it."

"Okay, fine. You wanna get bullied with me?" I offered her.

Daphne considered this, then brightened. "Yes, please. I want to be the damsel in distress at least once."

"Merlin knows you're no damsel," muttered Theodore under his breath. As he was seated opposite of us he was in prime position for Daphne to stretch those well-toned legs and literally kick his face. She was gracious enough to kick the side of the train seat right next to his head instead. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in a clear challenge.

Theodore's dark eyes creased into slits as he slowly pulled out his wand. "I'll make you eat dirt, Greengrass."

Daphne's lips curled back in a sneer. "I'll have you on your knees before you can finish the first spell, Nott."

It was then that Pansy returned, opening the train car door with a big smile on her face. It fell immediately when she saw the situation. "Uh."

Draco cleared his throat. "So does anyone want to take bets on how Umbridge will go? Rosie you aren't allowed to participate."

"Awww, that's—" I paused. "I mean, I guess that's fair..."

"I bet she chokes on her own blood and dies," spat out Daphne.

"Merlin's balls, Daphne!"

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

I have plans for Dolores. :)

Anyone wanna join the Slytherin bets on how she'll be... taken care of? I'll post a list next chapter.

If anyone guesses right I'll upload the next chapter this weekend.

Answer: One that could take objects or people from fantasies and pull them into reality. It would require sacrifices of equal power or value to work.

Question: If you were Prefect who would you want to be Prefect buddies with?

Reviews are love!