Dolores Umbridge was having a content day. She had been having days of those kind for a while now and only wished it could move from content to truly happy.

But that wretched boy Harry Potter refused to play along.

She had such plans. They had learnt all about Harry Potter of course, from that tolerable Weasley, from the illustrious Lucius Malfoy, from all those other students who had watched the boy through the years and then settled into the Ministry of Magic the way all good witches and wizards do.

So she had thought it would be easy to rile the boy up to a rage, get him to deliver himself into her clutches where she could explain exactly how wrong he was, or if he refused to understand—which she always knew was more possible—she would punish him for his insolence. He had a temper, this much they knew and Dolores knew all the buttons to press. And she got to have her fun at the same time, making sure those worthless half breeds and mudbloods knew exactly where they belonged.

At her feet.

But he hadn't done any of that. He had been quiet, unassuming, han't cared a whit even as the rest of them rose against her in outrage. He simply did not respond. The idiot boy didn't even glare at her when she insulted his half breed friends, only looked right through her as if she wasn't there. Why, he didn't even complain about never doing magic like his friend, the mudblood, did.

Disappointing but still, not as bad as it could be. At least he wasn't proclaiming that the Dark Lord was back for the top of rooftops. Poor dear Cornelius had such a vexing time with that nastiness.

So, yes, Dolores was content.

And then she stepped out of her quarters. There were whispers and looks directed at her but that wasn't quite as unusual and she ignored it. She happily made her way down to Great Hall in anticipation of seeing the walls outside it, plastered as they were, with her thoughtful contributions to Hogwarts.

Only to find them hidden by something different.

"The Anonymous Times" proclaimed the posters now and her temper rose. Titters and giggles filled the air as students talked behind her back ('Look how purple she's getting!', 'Never knew toads came in such a hideous colour!', 'Is that Pepper-Up or is steam really coming out of her ears?', 'Squibs, they're all the same') and foaming at the mouth she reached the closest poster and ripped the paper right off it.

Only to find another one had taken its place.

She kept on ripping them off, certain that it would end soon but instead more and more copies of that vile thing piled up next to her while the surface in front still read the same words.

The Anonymous Times.

Apoplectic with rage she stomped her way back to her quarters and began writing a letter immediately, only to rethink it.

Dear Cornelius needed to be told of this in person, she thought and rushing back to the Great Hall to grab herself a copy of the paper to show him what insolence the students were up to, she then floo-ed out to the Ministry of Magic.

How dare they?! How dare they break the laws and put a newspaper out without the Ministry's authorisation and approval!

They would pay for this!

In the fourth year class of Muggle Studies Charity Burbage fought off a deluge of questions she had no answer to. Her students pored over a picture studiously, shooting out observations that raised even more questions.

On a page of the newly established 'The Anonymous Times' there was a wizarding photo. In the picture of what was clearly the muggle side of King's Cross station, a busy crowd made its way to and from the turnstiles. There was a huge variety of people, all different and yet in many ways similar. Some carried briefcases, some luggage, there was a group of young students in one corner laughing uproariously, cases of musical instruments and backpacks carried between them. And then there was the woman with the strange grey thing that she was holding up to her ear. It looked like a small portable wizarding wireless what with the antenna like thing coming off it and they were most curious.

That was what the younger students were looking at of course.

The older ones were far too focused on the woman's clingy black dress, the glossy red lips and her sexy wink at whoever was taking the picture.

(Even with the weird fake nose and shorn hair, Sirius attracted people to him like moths to flame)

(Remus hadn't been too happy about it though)

(Which was part of the reason why Colin approved that photo of all the ones that Sirius took that day.)

(And the reason why Gred and Forge were found singing 'Matchmaker Matchmaker make me a match' all day long)

"I think we'd better ask some of our Muggleborn students." Charity finally said and her students were driven into a frenzy once again, eager to know.

"So with these mopile phones you can talk to anyone?!" The Seventh year muggleborns had been roped into explaining the picture to the younger students. Their N.E.W.T. DADA 'lectures' had been cancelled following Umbridge's escape to the ministry but eventually as the hue and cry rose to uncontrollable levels and the professors themselves seemed to want to discuss the paper, the classes for the day had been cancelled. They explained things to the crowd that had begun as the Muggle Studies' students and grown so much it had been moved into the Great Hall. There were the occasional hecklers about 'Mudbloods' but as detentions were assigned they calmed down. Even the Slytherins listened while pretending not to be interested.

"Mobile, not mopile, but yes. Anyone who has a mobile phone and whose number you know anyway. And as long as there's network. Some places are really remote and what not, so no network."

"My mum works at Motorola and she said the R&D department is working on making them even smaller and with a better battery life. They say it's going to boom until eventually landlines are going to be outmoded."

"Landlines, those are those round phones , right? With the dial and the-"

"Actually those are pretty old. My grandmother has one like that but it's just a show piece really. We just got this new model with caller id."

"Caller id?"

"So you can see who's calling. So if it's someone you don't want to talk to you can just not pick up the phone. My mum saves all the numbers of those telesales people and the prank callers so she knows whom to block. "

"Can you imagine if you knew who was floo-ing in before they floo-ed in?! And you could just shut it off so they can't come through!"

"Professor Babbling, is there a ward that can do that?" A student asked the Ancient Runes teacher who shook her head in negative.

"Lets try a few rune sequences to see if perhaps we can come up with something for that, shall we?" She said and a murmur of interest grew.

Pansy Parkinson clearly unhappy with the attention the muggles and the mudbloods were getting shouted over them all, "No pureblood would allow for such a common, vulgar ward in their fireplaces. Better luck trying it in the muggle hovels and hope they don't catch fire."

"Oh they won't. You see, muggles don't need fire to keep warm, that's really quite an outdated concept. And the muggle government has actual guidelines for building structures so that they aren't easy to burn down. Luckily enough there's so many muggles everywhere that there's a fire engine around every corner to help in case of a fire." Justin Finch Fletchley said, emphasising each and every 'muggle' in his speech, his nose up in the air. "The Blitz didn't even bring muggle London down, a little fire is easy to deal with. Then again, some Purebloods are the type of inbred weaklings who would think a little fire is something to be worried about. Probably try to beat it out with their wand because they can't do much in way of actual magic with it." Justin made a face, his eyes glazing over and his jaw dropping down as he made grunting noises that more than one person recognised as being a jab at Goyle and laughed while Parkinson flushed pink.

From where he was quietly sitting and watching Harry smirked.

In the Leaky Cauldron there was a similar scene. The clerks in the ministry, ie, the muggleborns who would never progress beyond their desk jobs by virtue of their blood, were now explaining concepts about the muggle world to the purebloods they worked for. A Conversation had been started and everyone was asking everyone about what was written in the newspaper and if it really was true.

'Stubby Plankman' a.k.a. Sirius Black in muggle disguise was sat on a barstool drinking firewhiskey. Dramatically, he emptied the glass and shouted for another. Tom, who'd just been arbitrating an argument nearby about the article in the 'Anonymous Times' about 'Underrated Professions and how to succeed at them' set a filled glass in front of the man. "You should slow down, mate."

"Everything in this paper is true," 'Stubby' said with a slur to his voice before hiccuping. In another corner of the room, Remus, keeping an eye on the man with his werewolf hearing, rolled his eyes. "And these eejits about the stupid professions bit."

"You wanna say that to our face, mate?" One of them said, angry and Remus tensed, ready to get him out of there if it came to blows. Not that Sirius didn't deserve a punch or two but his fake nose nose would come off easily if it came to that for all that they were using a special Marauder's version of glue to keep it on.

"You're EEJITS!" Stubby said belligerently, rising to his feet and stumbling around while pointing wildly. "IF it's all true then, then-" He hiccoughed again.

"Then?" the angry man asked.

"Have you not read the whole thing?! Look at this!" He waved the paper in front of him frantically, "Look at that, we've got an imperius 'victim' running the ministry!"

And finally, finally attention went to the very article that he was talking about. Harry's contribution to the paper:

From the desk of the Editor

Inside the administration

They call it a ministry because it's headed by a minister. The Ministry of Magic. The strange thing is that Britain is one of the few, if not the only country that uses that term formally. Most countries use the term Government or Congress.

But that's rather an unimportant all, what does it matter what it is called, so what if other countries in the naming of their administration explicate the role they play, as governors or a group legislative assembly, while ours is known for the fact that we have a minister. After all that doesn't really mean anything, does it?

So, let's introduce to our readers, the Ministry of Magic. Chances are, if you're reading this, you know someone who works there. The ministry is the biggest employer in the country. A multitude of departments have a multitude of people working for them. You inevitably know someone, who knows someone, who knows the Minister personally! Isn't that exciting?! Doesn't that fill you with such trust in the man, having an almost personal connection to him?

After all, everyone knows about Cornelius Fudge. His signature lime green bowler hat is a wonderful quirk, clearly the sign of a jovial man. Not very inconspicuous or muggle friendly of course, so it's a good thing that he has permission to break the Statute of Secrecy. After all, he does have to meet many important people in the muggle ministry, even his counterpart the Prime Minister of the Muggle government. Yes, his personal style is ostentatious and doesn't seem particularly respectable, especially when meeting such a high ranking member of the government that rules over the millions of people that we share our land with. But he comes off as just such a jovial person, so it's alright. The Prime Minister could of course set embargoes upon the items we depend upon from the muggle world, such as food and drink, the wood pulp for parchment, the ink for our quills etc, but Fudge is sure to handle all of that of course. It can't possibly be the reason why food prices have inflated wildly in the last few years, that's ridiculous. Cornelius Fudge is after all, a respectable jovial man.

And he's advised by such illustrious persons too. After all, everyone knows that the respected Lord Malfoy has the Minister's ear. Lord Malfoy, of course, is the tragic figure you probably know best from his trial at the end of the War before. Under the imperius curse, he was made to take the Dark Mark and kill and torture muggles and muggleborns. Truly, a figure whose affliction must torture him every day. More and more research shows that the Dark Mark leaves a literal mark of Dark magic upon the souls of these people. And to have to take it under the imperius, stripped of his own free will, Lucius Malfoy has truly endured great suffering and it has been very important to our ministry's future endeavours. It is because he suffered so, that our Aurors are trained to be able to resist this heinous curse. I am sure that Lord Malfoy himself has also learnt to be able to resist it. After all, it wouldn't do for a man who could be so easily controlled to give advice to the Minister of this fair land, right? Especially when the taint of the Dark Mark is taken into consideration.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy and his efforts to overcome his weak will has made him truly indispensable to our great ministry. And his frequent donations to a multitude of Ministry departments and even Hogwarts where his son studies, cannot be forgotten either. Only three years ago Lord Malfoy made the generous donation of Nimbus 2001 brooms to the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, guided, no doubt, by his son's acceptance to the team as the seeker. The young Malfoy doesn't have a particularly good record in the game but what he lacks in skill he makes up for in determination.

And that is only one of the many who advise our jovial Minister. His other advisor may be recognised by many of you from letters from the young ones in school. I am talking about Dolores Umbridge. The Undersecretary to the Minister she currently serves as the DADA professor at Hogwarts, as well as the High Inquisitor. Now, some of you may be wondering just what a High Inquisitor is, after all it certainly wasn't a position that existed during our times. It is a position that was touched upon in our fellow newspaper, the Daily Prophet but we cannot help but expound on this further. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor is a position appointed by the Minister under the advice of Lucius Malfoy, with the express purpose of inspecting classes and thus exposing any faults that may lie in the state of education at Hogwarts. While the decision seems odd considering that all the core subjects have been taught by the same professors for the past fourteen or so years, barring the DADA course, Madame Umbridge herself has said that the reason for her appointment is so that 'Progress for the sake of progress (may) be discouraged'.

Inquiries to the Wizarding Examinations Authority reveal that Madame Umbridge herself did not achieve more than an Acceptable for her DADA O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, however her tutelage at home might very well have exceeded these standards. Her father, Orford Umbridge is well known for his long service in the department of Magical Maintenance. While currently retired, many remember him for his steadfast nature and his dedication to his job. Her mother is less well known, but in the muggle world, to which she belongs, she was known for her whimsy and easy going nature, although her whereabouts are currently unknown. Certainly, the knowledge of the muggle world that was achieved by Dolores Umbridge due to her parentage gives her a significant advantage in manoeuvering the Muggle world and therefore colours her interactions with the Muggle Prime Minister accordingly.

And this is just the top level of our ministry, the crème de la crème if you would. Aren't we lucky then that these handful of respectable people are the ones with the most power in our ministry?

A/N: Long time no update. Sorry about that but I lost my train of thought with this story and am still not convinced that this chapter's tone and language is in line with the former ones. C'Est la vie.

P.S. Can you tell that Harry read Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and was very inspired by Mark Antony's speech?