( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 ) — a filthy character

Despite multiple attempts during the remainder of the Christmas holidays, Evangeline was unable to conjure a Patronus up until their thirteenth Dumbledore's Army lesson.

Everybody had been very keen to practice, even though they had a brooding Harry and a Charms professor who could hardly cast the charm herself at their assistance. The Potter boy kept reminding them that producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different to producing it when confronted by something like a Dementor.

''Oh, don't be such a killjoy,'' Cho Chang chirped, watching her Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement during their last lesson before Easter. ''They're so pretty!''

''They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you,'' Harry reminded her. ''What we really need is a Boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the Boggart was pretending to be a Dementor—''

''But that would be really scary!'' Lavender fretted, shooting puffs of silver vapour out of the end of her wand. ''And I still— can't— do it!''

Neville was having trouble, too. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble whisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

''You've got to think of something happy.''

''Yes. How about something to do with your friends?''

''I think I'm doing it!'' Seamus yelled. ''Look— ah— it's gone . . . but it was definitely something hairy!''

Hermione's Patronus, a silver otter, was gamboling around her. ''They are sort of nice, aren't they?'' She said, looking at it fondly.

''They are,'' Evangeline agreed, casting her own silver-white swan. ''Very elegant, too.''

The door to the Room of Requirement opened and then closed again; the brunette looked to see who had entered, but there didn't seem to be anybody there. Next thing she knew, Dobby was tugging at Harry's robes, sporting a stack of hats on top of his head.

''Hi, Dobby! What are you— what's wrong?''

The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into a silver mist, leaving the room much darker than before.

''Harry Potter, sir . . . Harry Potter, sir . . . Dobby has come to warn you . . . but the house-elves have been warned not to tell . . . ''

He ran head-first at the wall. Harry made to seize him, but the house-elf merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. The brunette sighed, remembering Pinky's habits of self-punishment.

''What's happened, Dobby?'' Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm.

''Harry Potter . . . she . . . she . . . '' Dobby started, before punching himself in the nose with his fist; Harry seized that, too.

''Who is ❛she❜, Dobby?'' The pure-blood witch wondered, stepping forward.

Dobby looked up at her, slightly cross-eyed, and mouthed wordlessly.

''Umbridge?''

The house-elf nodded, then tried to bang his head off Harry's knees.

''What about her? Dobby— she hasn't found out about this— about us— about the D.A.?''

They all read the answer in his stricken face. His hands held fast by Harry, the elf tried to kick himself and fell to the floor.

''Is she coming?'' He asked quitely.

Dobby let out a howl, and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor. ''Yes, Harry Potter, yes!''

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, horror-stricken people gazing at the thrashing elf. ''What are you waiting for?'' He bellowed. ''Run!''

They all pelted toward the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through; the Rosier girl could hear them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense not to try and make it all the way to their dormitories. It was only ten to nine, if they just took refuge in the library or the Owlery, which were both nearer—

''Harry, hurry!'' She urged him from the center of the knot of people who were trying to get out.

He scooped up Dobby, who was still attempting to inflict some serious injury on himself, and ran with the elf in his arms to join the back of the queue.

''Dobby — this is an order — get back to the kitchen with the other elves, and if she asks whether you warned me, lie and say no! And I forbid you to hurt yourself!'' He demanded, dropping the elf as he made it over the threshold at last and slammed the door behind him.

''Thank you, Harry Potter!'' Dobby squeaked, streaking off.

The brunette glanced left and right; the others were all moving so fast that she caught only glimpses of flying heels at either end of the corridor before they vanished.

''Fallacia!''

BY ORDER OF

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight.

Signed: 𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓞𝓼𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓭 𝓕𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮, 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓜𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬

The notices had gone up all over the school overnight, but they didn't explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant, to escape. Everyone also seemed aware, for instance, that Harry and Marietta Edgecombe were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office, and as the girl was now in the hospital wing — courtesy of Evangeline's bewitchment — the Potter boy found himself besieged with requests to give a firsthand account wherever he went.

He had just left Evangeline's living quarters, updating her on the current situation — not only had Dumbledore taken the fall for Dumbledore's army, but something called the Inquisitorial Squad had also been introduced.

The Potter boy, however, had failed to mention that Fred and George were on a warpath; the pure-blood had just been summoned to Umbridge's office, which was on the fifth floor of the east wing in the castle. Her heels clicked against the cobble-stoned corridors as she reluctantly made her way there, when she ran into the Weasley twins.

They had been caught red-handed. Lucky for them, the brunette was a woman of her word; she wasn't going to stand in the way of anyone wreaking havoc in Umbridge's life. Instead, she was going to help, correcting their incantations of some sinister charms they were using for something swamp-like. They allowed her to pass, but it was only to find Umbridge's office empty. 

Minutes later, pandemonium reigned.

Somebody (and she had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks.

Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud and fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls. Sparklers were writing swearwords in midair of their own accord. Firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Evangeline looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight, or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum as the seconds went by.

Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed with terror, halfway down the stairs. One of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled towards the pair with a eerie wheeeeee. Both adults yelled with fright and ducked as it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor.

''Hurry, Filch, hurry!'' She shrieked. ''They'll be all over the school unless we do something — Stupefy!''

A jet of red light shot out the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow — she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into a frame next door, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her.

''Don't Stun them, Filch!''

''Right you are, Headmistress!'' He wheezed; he was a Squib who could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them.

He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom, and began swatting at the fireworks. Within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.

Laughing, Evangeline ducked down low, and ran to a door she knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Fred, George, and Harry hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge's and Filch's yelps and quaking with suppressed mirth.

''Fancy seeing you here,'' Fred grinned.

''Enjoying the show?'' George asked.

''Very much so, boys.''

''Impressive, right?'' Harry smiled. ''You'll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem.''

''Cheers,'' George thanked, wiping tears of laughter from his face. ''Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next . . . they multiply by ten times every time you try.''

''Now I have half a mind to get back out there and advise her to do so.''

The fireworks continued to burn and spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didn't seem to mind very much.

Evangeline only wished they could have prevented her from having to carry out Career's Advice for the fifth year Slytherins. As Head of Slytherin House, Snape was responsible for the task, yet he felt it was better for her to level with the students since she was younger and ❛could relate❜.

It also didn't help that the green and silver students — majority of which were aristocratic pure-bloods — looked down upon the Charms professor after her banishment. Of course, they couldn't outright insult or contradict her during the appointments, but the awkward tension in the air was painful enough.

However, it wasn't worse than when the day for Umbridge's ridiculous Ministry-appointed sexual education scheme finally came. Rain was pounding down against the windows, matching the moods of the third year to seventh year girls who had been crammed into a class room with the pink toad herself, McGonagall, Sprout, Sinistra, Madam Pince, and Evangeline.

''I'm here to tell you about how a night of sex ruined my life,'' the librarian wheezed. ''Did me and my boyfriend use various protection? Yes. Did it split? Yes. Were we aware? No. In conclusion, I believe teenagers shouldn't have sex because sex will ruin your life forever. I went from a bright future to a six month old baby that left me with a leaky bladder and chronic back pain.''

It was true that the Rosier girl didn't know much about sex. It was also true that her experience on that matter was rather limited. However, she was almost certain that it was true that what this woman was spewing was complete and utter nonsense. 

''Sorry,'' Ginny interjected, raising her head among the sea of girls. ''Uh, are the boys being taught about pregnancy as well or is it just us girls?''

Umbridge shook her head with a pinched smile as the other professors side-eyed each other.

''It's just us, is it?'' The Weasley girl clarified. ''Very progressive.''

''Quiet!''

''After getting pregnant, I had no choice but to leave school.''

''There are always choices,'' Padma interrupted. 

''Women don't have to have children,'' Parvati agreed.

''Enough!''

''And we shouldn't be shamed for having sexual desires,'' Lavender stated. ''You make sex sound terrifying, but it doesn't have to be.''

The seventh and sixth year girls nodded, one of them rising from her chair to speak. ''It can be fun and . . . and beautiful, and teach us things about ourselves and our body.''

''You should be telling us how to do that safely, not telling us to refrain from being . . . active,'' Hermione clipped, a tinge of red coating her cheeks. ''It doesn't work.''

''Out, now!'' Umbridge boomed.

''Happily,'' Ginny chirped, swaggering out of the class room as a handful of the girls followed behind her.

Evangeline and the other professors shared a smirk with the teenagers, when Professor McGonagall cleared her throat in a perfect imitation of Umbridge.

''Is it you who is in need of a cough drop this time, Minerva?''

''Not at all, Dolores. I'm simply concerned by the ordeal happening outside this very second.''

The toad-like woman frowned, hurrying outside and down a hallway to the Entrance Hall. there was a great deal of shouting and movement, with most of the school assembled there.

It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them were covered in a substance that looked like Stinksap) joined by teachers and ghosts in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down upon George and Fred, who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

''So!'' Umbridge exclaimed, scanning over the scroll of parchment Filch had handed her. ''So . . . you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?''

''Pretty amusing, yeah,'' Fred shrugged, looking back up at her without the slightest look of fear.

Filch was almost crying with happiness. ''I've also got the form, Headmistress. I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting . . . oh, let me do it now . . . ''

''Very good, Argus. You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.''

''You know what. I don't think we are,'' Fred quipped, turning to his twin. ''George, I think we've outgrown full-time education.''

''Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself.''

''Time to test our talents in the real word, d'you reckon?''

''Definitely.''

And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together, ''Accio brooms!''

There was a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Two broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the metal clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

''We won't be seeing you.''

''Yeah, don't bother keeping in touch.''

''If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley — Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Our new premises!''

''Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,'' George added, pointing at Umbridge.

''Stop them!'' She shrieked, but it was too late.

As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet in the air.

''Give her hell from us, Peeves.''

The poltergeist, who had never taken an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open doors into the now glorious sunset.

The only sound that could be heard from among the awestruck silence was the sound of Evangeline's palms as they clapped against each other. Her glossy lips were pulled into a smirk.

''Excuse me, Professor Rosier,'' Umbridge huffed. ''What is the meaning—''

''You are excused, Professor Umbridge.''

She looked as if she was going to be sick; her pale face flushed and her head lurched forward. ''I'll repeat myself. What is the meaning of your applause?''

''You know exactly what I mean.''

''Is this your prejudice showing, Professor Rosier?'' She asked, narrowing her beady eyes. ''Your family does carry a nasty tendency of discrimination based upon pure-blood elitism.''

The students turned their attention to the teachers; they watched with bated breath, their eyes shooting back and forth as one or the other spoke.

''Your status of a half-blood is not what makes you filthy, Dolores — it is your character.''