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~ I'm planning to increase the number of advanced chapters to +50 this weekend!
~ I've edited some of the previous chapters to remove anything you might consider "cringe" or "unnecessary." I'll continue reviewing them from time to time!
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"Always keep the goal in sight, Madam," he admonished. "Removing Hogwarts from the Headmaster's control is the first step in our plan to neuter him. Once we can prove he is unfit for that role, it will be easier to unseat him from the Wizengamot and completely marginalize him. And without Dumbledore's support, Harry Potter will be completely without any power. Then with Dumbledore out of the way and Potter shunted to the side, we will be able to claim the moral high ground, quash any hint of this ludicrous story of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and proceed with building our society into one which will be the envy of the world.
"But in order to achieve this goal, I will need to you adhere to the plan and gradually take over control of the school. Remove Dumbledore from his positions of power, Madam, then we will have the upper hand."
Umbridge's smile became truly unpleasant—Fudge thought she may have intended it to be predatory, but he could not imagine any short, plump predators clad entirely in pink. It was a most disturbing sight, and one which would undoubtedly take an excess of brandy to remove from his consciousness.
After another day of training with the demanding and critical Alastor Moody, Ron Weasley stumbled from the Floo, ignoring his brothers and sister who followed him, and trudged up the stairs to his room in the Burrow, thankful that another day had come to a close. It seemed that every part of him ached, and he was certain he had never worked this hard before in his life. Moody was trying to kill them—of that, he was convinced.
Still, though Ron was perhaps not the most motivated or studious sort of person, the training and the things he had learned filled him with a… pride, for want of a better term—pride in what he was doing. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, after all, and his best friend was still the number one target. Ron would not sit back on the sidelines while Harry was threatened—he would stand and fight.
On the other front… The thought of Hermione brought a grimace to his face. He had not wavered for an instant in his determination to woo his brainy friend, and he was quickly coming to realize that Hermione was not the plain young woman he had always thought her to be—she was growing and filling in nicely, and was now a girl who he thought would command considerable attention as she continued to mature. Much as he regretted it, he knew that previously, his desire to be with her was something of a desire not to lose to Harry again, but now that had changed—she was perhaps not the statuesque beauty he had always noticed in the past, but she was attractive in her own right. The fact that they fought constantly…
That, he firmly pushed from his mind. Their arguing had the earmarks of an old married couple's relationship—everyone said so. It was logical to assume—as his desired girlfriend was so fond of stating—that their relationship was ready to move to the more official one which he desired. If only it were that easy…
He was trying—he certainly was. He had attempted to tone down their disagreements, he tried to speak of her favorite things, and he endeavored to show her that he really cared. It did not seem to be working. She acted suspiciously around him, almost as though she thought he was trying to put one over on her, and moreover, his attempts to appear interested in the things which were important to her she seemed to see through with ease. If only she were interested in the things he was—he could talk about Quidditch and chess forever!
The door to his room banged open, and Ron sat up in surprise, as his two elder brothers entered the room.
"Hello Ronnikins, fancy meeting you here!" exclaimed one twin.
"It's a surprise to see our brother in his own room, Gred?"
"No, perhaps not, Forge. It just seemed like a good way to open the conversation."
The other twin nodded sagely. Ron, however, was not in the mood to deal with his ever-exuberant brothers.
"Do you two have a reason for bugging me?"
The twins shared a smirk. "Was that a hint of surliness I heard from our ungrateful brother?"
"I believe it was," replied the other. "And it's particularly rude of him, considering the fact that we came to help him, don't you think?"
"I concur, brother."
"Help me what?" Ron demanded.
"Well, Ron, it appears your attempts to woo the lovely Miss Granger have run into an impasse."
Ron attempted to react nonchalantly. "What are you guys talking about?"
Fred raised an eyebrow. "It appears that little Ronnie is trying to play stupid."
"An easy endeavor, to be sure."
Though Ron's anger was about to explode, George moved quickly to prevent him from erupting. "Ron, don't ever think that we're blind. The only one you are not fooling with your little puppy dog devotion is Moody, and I doubt he can tear his attention away from his paranoid delusions long enough to see your romantic fumblings."
"But have no fear, George and I have come to your rescue."
Though Ron was suspicious and angry at his brothers' teasing, he was desperate enough to grasp at just about anything. "What do you mean?"
The soft sound of something hitting his bed brought Ron's attention away from his brothers. A book? What good would that do?
"That book, Ronnie, is the ticket to your successful wooing of your lovely lady."
"Read the cover, Ron."
Looking down, Ron noted the wizarding illustration of a young woman holding the hand of a young man as they walked along a street, a look of utter devotion on her face. They were surrounded by delicate flowers and vines, which weaved and intertwined with each other, no doubt a subtle example of what was occurring between the couple in the picture. The title of the book was emblazoned upon the top in lurid red letters, Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches.
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