Azkaban

Strawberry Muffins

----- BY ORDER OF -----

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

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

Signed:

Dolores Jane Umbridge

HIGH INQUISITOR

Amarea had decided. She would just have to find a way to dispose of Umbridge.

With a groan, she stumbles back to Dumbledore's office, her sleep-deprived form parting crowds. It seemed like the sorceress had just left the Headmaster's office; they were meeting more regularly. Tom wanted to speed the schedule up.

That was Amarea's job, they had decided, the wonderful role of Jester. Drawing Tom away from his work was something that the wizard didn't take lightly, although it was easier for Amarea to do than it would anyone else. She wasn't particularly thrilled to be spending so much time away from Hogwarts, and more specifically her bed, but she understood it had to be done. No one was prepared for Voldemort to come out of his cave fully; not yet. Not even her.

Every day she kept Tom away from Harry was a successful day, at least in her opinion.

Knocking on the door roughly, she waits a few seconds before letting herself in. "Her royal highness has made another decree if you haven't seen it yet," Amarea grits out, hands rubbing her eyes aggressively. "I mean come on, how long are we going to let all of this slide? I'll take her out myself if..." The black-haired woman trails off, finally focusing her gaze on the younger wizard sitting in a chair beside his desk. More specifically, she focused on the portrait he faced.

The chipped golden frame caught her eye first. Slowly but surely, her gaze dragged up the man's body. Dark pants. Dusty blue shirt. Russet jacket. A red bandana. Inky black hair, identical to hers.

"Nope."

Turning around, Amarea makes her way to the door. With a quick wave of a hand, her wooden savior seals itself, trapping her in the gods-forsaken office. Trapping her with one of the people on her 'Avoid at all costs' list.

"Amarea." Dumbledore's voice cuts through the silence following the loud noise of the door shutting. "Sit down and join us. I insist."

I insist.

She knew Dumbledore long enough to know what that meant. He wouldn't take no for an answer.