Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 32: Fudge's Greatest Regret

One asked of regret,

And I made reply:

To have held the bird,

And let it fly;

To have seen the star

For a moment nigh,

And lost it

Through a slothful eye;

To have plucked the flower

And cast it by;

To have one only hope-

To die.

Richard Le Gallienne. 1866-1947

Harry and Hermione stared shocked up at Hagrid, who was currently using a great brown handkerchief to blow his nose. The sound echoed like a deep trumpet through the dim hallway.

"Grawp!?" exclaimed Harry, quickly glancing Hermione's way. "When did... Hagrid, how'd you know?"

"I been up th' mountains to 'is camp 'bout once a month fer a visit," said Hagrid with a sorrowful hiccup to his voice. He swiped hard at his eyes. "Even when 'e decided on returnin' to the others I still wanted ta look out fer 'im... make sure 'e was alrigh'... Could'n leave 'im to 'imself, could I? We was fam'ly after all."

Hermione tightened her grip on Hagrid's hand, and Harry placed a consoling hand on his other arm.

"On'y fam'ly in th' world I had lef'," said Hagrid dully, sounding congested.

Hermione instantly tugged on his massive hand in reproof. "Hagrid, that's not true! You have a great family right here at Hogwarts! Professor Dumbledore really cares for you, and you know Harry, Ron and I love you!"

Harry nodded up at him. "She's right."

For a moment, Hagrid simply stared down at them until he let out a blaring, hoarse wail that startled Hermione a bit.

"Oh 'Ermione, thank you fer sayin' so! I dunno wha' I'd do withou' you an' 'Arry, there. An' if you don' min' my sayin' so, Grawpie felt th' very same abou' you two, I think. I know he ne'er regalarly said as much, but he did... you c'n be sure."

Harry resisted the impulse to point out that Grawp had never regularly 'said' much of anything save some grunting and incoherent phrases, and instead focused on the next obvious question.

"I'm sorry about your brother, Hagrid, really… But do you suspect who might've done it?"

Hagrid paused and sniffled for a moment before eyeing Harry with world-weary eyes. "You know the answer ta tha' one already, I think."

Hermione glanced Harry's way with less surprise than would have been normal in lesser circumstances, and then back up at Hagrid. Harry hung his head.

"You think Voldemort sent his servants," she stated quietly.

Hagrid shoved the huge brown handkerchief back into his pocket more forcefully than needed. "Ain' no thinkin' necess'ry. I know they done it."

"How can you be sure..." said Harry in little more than a whisper. Hermione glanced at him with concern.

"Was wand soot all o'er th' bodies," stated Hagrid sounding slightly nauseated. "Magic jes' cracklin' in th' air... Y'know, spell residue. No one decen' or in their righ' minds woulda gone to such trouble to try convincin' gian's ta join their side... it ain' as if it's a big secre' gian's don' like magic or the lot who use it. I'm guessin' the Gurg did' wan' no part of it."

"You think Voldemort was trying to bribe the giants over to his side?" Harry more stated than asked, a bit incredulously. "No matter how much I'd like to think it, he's not stupid. I can't imagine he'd think they would actually join."

"Mebbe he did, mebbe he din't," said Hagrid with a bitter edge to his voice. "Fact is he DID kill 'em. Weren' no skin off his nose if they refused, was it? He'd jes' as soon have 'em dead as livin' anyways."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose so."

After Hagrid took a moment to squash down his anger and compose himself, he glanced down at a weary and upset Harry, currently leaning against the stone wall of the hallway.

He'd always felt very tenderly toward Harry, truthfully ever since the last day of the boy's first year, when he had given Hagrid a hug and made known to those round him he felt his real home was Hogwarts. The hug had been the first bit of physical affection Hagrid had ever received from anyone, and he felt sure later, once he had found out more about Harry's life prior to school, it had been one of the first signs of affection Harry himself had ever felt. Since that day, and even now that he had grown into a much taller, capable young man, Hagrid had always felt very protective of Harry. As he looked down now on the moppet of black hair bowed low, he realised informing Harry about Grawp's death might have served to make him feel even guiltier than he already did. Mentally, Hagrid kicked himself. Adding more to Harry's heavy pile of burdens was the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do. He cleared his throat with an emotional grunt.

"My tellin' you it ain' yer fault won' make a bit of differ'nce to ya, I s'pose," he said in a mildly gruff voice.

Harry squinted up at him with a wan smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans. "Not likely."

Hermione frowned.

"Well I'm... ah... I'm sorry fer tha' 'Arry," said Hagrid, retrieving his handkerchief to blast his nose in it once more. "Weren' never my intention y'know... I jes' though' you'n 'Ermione oughtta know wha' happened..."

Harry held up a hand. "I know Hagrid, it's alright. Somewhere inside I know none of this is my fault, really..."

Hermione choked somewhere in the back of her throat, and a look of utter relief washed over her face.

"Still, sometimes... I know what he's doing, I just... I just can't stand the thought of people being killed to get at me..." Harry clawed a hand through his hair, rumpling it even further.

"I dunno s'much as it was to get a' you," said Hagrid with a grimace. "Grawp was my brother, wasn' 'e?"

"Exactly," said Harry. "You're brother. He hurts you, he hurts me... and he knows it."

"And yet it could've been that he simply hates giants Harry," admonished Hermione quietly. "He hates all wizarding creatures, anything or anyone that isn't pure-blood wizard."

Harry nodded, frustrated. "You're right, of course. I just wish he'd just tell me where he is so I could finally meet him and end all this…"

Fear suddenly coiled itself tightly inside Hermione's abdomen, and her gaze shot up to meet his.

"NO!"

Startled at her outburst, both Hagrid and Harry stared down at her in slight bewilderment.

Harry spoke quietly. "It's going to happen some day, 'Mione. You Ron and I've all been having the same dream for some time now… We know how it ends; or at least how he wants it to end. Voldemort knows his powers will return if he kills me. He knows he needs them to make his psychotic dream of a bloody 'perfect' world come true..."

"He's been bating us Harry!" Hermione exclaimed frantically. "I know you can see that!"

" 'Course I can! But what other choice will I have if it comes down to it?" Harry shouted back agitatedly. "What would you have me do, lie back and let him kill until Dumbledore's army is ready!? If I show, he'll stop! I just need to know where he is…"

"In the dream we were ALL killed," Hermione breathed out desperately. She moved from Hagrid's side to clutch Harry's hand in hers and stared up into his eyes. "Maybe it'll take all of us being done in for Voldemort to get what he wants, not just you! In any case, we know now we're all three supposed to fight together! Something more powerful happens when it's the three of us and you'll need it when facing him!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Hermione vehemently shook her head at him.

"Promise me you'll never go off for him on your own… Promise me, Harry!"

Hermione had reached her hands up to either side of his face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Harry was utterly still as he stared down at her.

He knew if Voldemort sent him a proposition and a place to meet to end the killing; whatever demand was made, he would have no choice but to meet it.

Somewhere past the Hermione-focussed part of his brain he knew Hagrid was still standing there, probably shifting nervously and feeling embarrassed to be witnessing such a private conversation.

Yet, all Harry could concentrate on was Hermione's face; the look of pleading and absolute desperation in her eyes as she begged him to reassure her he would never go off alone. And because he knew what a sick bastard Voldemort was, he could promise nothing of the sort.

Harry swallowed, trying to stop his stoic expression from crumbling. He stared down at the person he loved more than any other and watched an painful foreboding cross her face; her eyes bright with fear as she stared into his own, examining him.

Damn it to hell, WHY does she have to see through me so well!?… Harry tried gritting his teeth to keep the tears at bay, but his heart rebelled against it. He almost couldn't stand watching her face crumble, her raw, discerning eyes locked onto his own.

Once again he opened his mouth to speak, but the voice they heard next was not his own.

"You'd do well to listen to her, son."

Harry, Hermione and Hagrid jumped for a moment before whirling around to see Professor Lupin emerge from the dark shadows of the hallway.

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat and sighed wearily. "Dad, what're you..."

However, as he saw his father's haunted expression he paused, and his voice turned stony.

"What's happened..."

*********************************************************

( A few hours before…)

Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, sat pompous and disdainful behind his desk as he narrowed his small eyes at the subdued Daily Prophet reporter before him. It was half past eight in the evening, and the offices of the Ministry had long since emptied of tired, passive workers all bent on apparating or flooing home as soon as possible. The only two he had insisted on staying were his Deputy Prime Minister, Delores Umbridge, and his Senior Undersecretary, Percival Weasley.

Umbridge, standing squat and toad-like behind him and wearing a broad, sharp-toothed grin, had been invaluable in helping him understand that the possibility the dark lord had returned was unlikely. It was far more plausible, as she smoothly put it, that some other wizard bent on taking the dark lord's place, and using isolated acts of violence to try doing so, was attempting to stir up fear in their community; possibly one hired by Dumbledore for that very reason. After all, hadn't Dumbledore always been after his, Fudge's, position? What better way to win it than to frighten the wizarding world into thinking their greatest enemy had returned with a vengeance, and that the current minister was ill-equipped to handle it? Would not the Wizengamot reinstate Dumbledore as Supreme Mugwump should they come to believe his and the Potter boy's tales? Would not they desire someone as powerful as Dumbledore seemed to be to take over in such an event?

Fact was that the Ministry needed to take control of what news was being released to the Wizarding community. It simply would not do to allow Dumbledore and Harry bloody Potter to influence the press, and therefore undermine Fudge's seat of power.

Moreover, even if all this were not the case, Fudge simply could not wrap his mind round the idea You-Know-Who had returned. It had been so long, and why had the dark lord waited until just now? How very conveniently it all would work out for the Headmaster. Of the fact that the dark lord's return was a ploy to regain Dumbledore's standing in the community, Fudge had no doubt. Especially after the wild-eyed, crazed spectacle back some three years ago at the Tri-Wizarding Tournament Harry Potter had put on, reappearing as he did, and clutching the body of a dead boy.

No…if the mental lad really had faced You-Know-Who he would most certainly be dead; there was no way he could have returned alive from it. However, the boy certainly had a flair for frightening people, that was for sure. Dramatics and falsities, indeed.

Most likely, this deception in itself had been the start of Dumbledore's plan to rid Fudge of his office, using the delusions of the boy-who-lived to do so. Umbridge was right… the whole lot of them were mad and power-hungry, and by Merlin, he would NOT allow their influence over anything… including the Daily Prophet.

"And that is all you'll be reporting?" asked Fudge in a nasally demanding voice as he stared down the thin reporter called Edmund Pillings.

Pillings nodded, extremely intimidated at being stared down by the Minister of Magic and his successor. To Fudge's right, Percy Weasley sat straight-backed and pompous, eyeing the reporter as if he himself had authority over him as well. Every now and then during the conversation Weasley dipped his head rather importantly to scratch notes onto a large wooden clipboard, the sound of which made Edmund want to force said clipboard up said Senior Undersecretary's rectum.

Pillings closed his eyes for a brief moment and contained himself. It wouldn't do to get snarky with the Minister of Magic or his underlings. Fudge could have him fired from his job in a matter of minutes.

"If you please Minister Fudge," he began. "I simply can't fathom why you don't want it reported that an entire Muggle building full of people, a mall they call it, was blown to bits yesterday! And accounts of smaller incidents are being reported now all over our world as well! Killings in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley…all half-wizards and Muggle borns. Just since last week there's been six new ones… six! Witnesses are saying the men are dressed like… like You-Know-Who's Death Eaters used to dress! And your own law enforcement have been seeing to them…"

"Yes well I'm not going to allow crimes to go uninvestigated or unpunished, am I?" said Fudge with distinct irritation. "It's just too bad the felons have been so swift to flee after they've done."

Pillings lowered his eyebrows aggrivatedly. "Well, its news that needs reporting if you ask me…"

Delores Umbridge spoke up in a sweetly poisonous voice. "I don't believe anyone did ask you though, did they?"

Pillings heaved a sigh in frustration. "But our front pages have been cut down to nothing but meaningless sensation stories with the real news being shoved in tiny paragraphs toward the back! I just believe we're owed some explanation…"

"You're owed nothing of the sort!" Fudge's face flushed angrily. He placed fat clenched fists on the polished wood of the desk in front of him and leaned forward. "If I want you reporting on bloody garden gnomes and their impact on the common household, you'll ruddy well be taking notes!"

Pilling's nostrils flared rather angrily, but he kept himself tight-lipped. It was the same for every damn issue of the Prophet, anyway. Fudge sent for the reporter designated to write the top stories for that week, and after being briefed on what had been going on amongst the community, the reporter was then told what stories were or were not permitted to run. Pillings snorted derisively to himself. That way, he figured, Fudge couldn't be accused of not allowing important issues to be reported. Though even the ones he actually allowed were moved toward the back of the paper in a less popular section... a place where they were least likely to be read.

"But Minister Fudge," tried Pillings again, doing his best to keep his voice steady and respectful. "Our editors are getting suspicious. I've heard them talking. They say it looks dodgy, as if you're trying to hide something incriminating about yourself, and that can't be good for you or your position. Can't you at least give me something to tell them?"

Behind Fudge, Umbridge frowned. Wagging tongues and sinking public opinion of the Minister was definitely NOT what she wanted. As long as Fudge was in power she was able to easily direct the goings on at the Ministry, though by all accounts that would soon be a moot point. Even so, having the Daily Prophet think Fudge was hiding something was not good. After all, ever since Umbridge had proved herself smart and capable enough to try turning things round two years ago at Hogwarts, although her position had not worked out, Cornelius had come to implicitly trust her and her judgement... the ignorant clot. Dolores smiled as an image of Voldemort flashed through her mind. Master had rewarded her quite well for gaining Fudge's trust, and she certainly did not want public opinion of the Minister to diminish.

Umbridge plastered a wise, innocent smile on her face and leaned down, though she hadn't far to lean, to whisper conspiratorially into Fudge's ear.

"Perhaps in a way, he is right, Minister. After all, you and I may understand the mind games Dumbledore is trying to employ, but as Pillings has said, it must seem a bit.. shall we say.. clandestine to others. Perhaps we should explain the situation, at least to those advertising wizards at the Prophet."

Fudge grimaced and turned his head a bit to catch the side of her flabby face. "And once they hear our theories on Dumbledore and his mad plots, you don't think they'll believe I'm the nutter?"

"Remember earlier through your brilliant direction, how they came to recognise the Potter boy's dodgy antics and lies," simpered Umbridge quietly. Beside them, Percy nodded sanctimoniously. "If made to understand the situation by someone as keen and distinguished as yourself, surely they will take a different tack. After all, it simply would not do to have public opinion swayed Dumbledore's way, would it?"

"But Dumbledore still has many supporters who would believe his lies over the truth," hissed Fudge. "I can't risk alienating those who follow him either!"

"Then you shall simply leave out his name," whispered Umbridge. "One need not know the name of the conspirator to understand the conspiracy. It will be enough for the Prophet to understand the public is trying to be fooled without pointing out the perpetrator. Nevertheless you, of course, are Minister, Cornelius. I sincerely hope it remains that way... I should miss working with you."

She straightened once again with a particularly satisfied smile, and watched Fudge's face flush a deep red. Pillings eyed them dubiously.

Fudge nervously cleared his throat. "Well… alright, then. I'll tell you what's been going on. However, I want it understood this information is to stay STRICTLY within the walls of the Daily Prophet, am I understood?"

"Clearly," said Edmund Pillings with a relieved look on his face.

***********************

Some time later, after doing his level best to convince Edmund Pillings of the unknown conspirator's power-hungry, wicked plots to take control of the Ministry, and being solidly agreed with at every turn by Umbridge and a very haughty Percy Weasley, Fudge still had not quite gained the trust of the reporter. He seemed keen on understanding just who it was Fudge suspected; so much so that eventually, the Minister gave in and began explaining fully his theories on Albus Dumbledore.

Far from being upset by this however, Umbridge smiled. She had planned for just such an eventuality, knowing a reporter was never satisfied until the entirety of a tale had become known, and had urged Fudge to tell the story fully aware of this. Truth was, most of her 'work' tonight was being done merely for the Daily Prophet's sake, as much of what Fudge believed would soon no longer matter.

Though the idea that Voldemort was still gone from their world would very soon be reversed, perhaps the media might come to believe Dumbledore had an alliance with the dark lord. It didn't hurt to have them doubting the Headmaster, did it? One small seed of distrust planted might grow to wreak havoc later on.

Fudge ended his rant and sat back in his chair, huffing and thoroughly red in the face. However, the expression he saw on Pillings' face was quite the opposite of what he had hoped for, and it set his nerves on edge.

The reporter leaned back in his chair and stared at him. "Albus Dumbledore, you say…"

"Yes," Fudge stated shortly, huffing.

"Using the Potter boy to deceive the public…" stated Pillings colourlessly, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes."

"And sending false Death Eaters to kill and pillage in order to have the Wizengamot reinstate him…"

"Along with eventually taking over my seat as Minister of Magic, YES!" snapped Fudge. The veins in his bulbous nose, a result of too much ale, rose up dark blue with anger. Behind him, Umbridge hid a small, crafty smile.

Pillings again sat perfectly still and thought to himself; the silence so deafening in the room that Fudge could hear the maddening, repetitive sounds of the reporter's steady breathing… in and out…in and out…

Finally, Pillings spoke. "Impossible."

"What!?" Fudge's eyes flashed with insult, and he smashed a fist down hard on his desk with a loud *thump*. "Do you mean to call me a liar!?"

"Not at all," Pillings replied.

"Then exactly what do you mean by it!?"

"Only that perhaps you're... mistaken," stated Pillings calmly. "I simply can't fathom it. Albus Dumbledore has never shown any indication he holds anything for the dark arts other than the deepest loathing. And I can't believe he's the sort that would kill innocent witches and wizards simply to gain power. He's never done the likes before, and I can't believe he'd resort to it now. Besides, he's always said he's happy with where he is… He's never tried to take over the Ministry before, has he?"

Delores Umbridge cleared her throat with an irritatingly high-pitched (hem, hem), and three sets of eyes turned her way. She smiled sweetly. "I don't believe the Minister must be in error, as you imply, simply because Dumbledore has never before been perceived a certain way. Perhaps he has simply tired of being Headmaster... Perhaps, in his latter years, he wishes now to take on authorities and powers he has never before done. And it is true when things do not seem to be going his way, as with the Potter boy's trial two years ago, that he tends to force himself in; acting with much more authority and command than he should, is it not?"

As Fudge thought on it, the reaccounting of how Dumbledore had embarrassed him in front of the full Ministry court some two years ago further inflamed his anger.

"Right you are!" he shouted in a blustery voice. "The man has always given himself more power than should be allowed!"

Pillings scoffed at him. "But that still doesn't prove he's been behind the killings! Those in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, even Muggle England... There's no proof of it! It's all speculation!"

Fudge leaned forward on his desk to fix Pillings with a death-like glare and spoke next in a dangerously calm voice. "And yet, if you value your job, it's speculation you'll accept, isn't it? You are right that we do not yet have solid proof, but it will come with time, of that I'm certain… Just as certain in fact, as I am that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is NOT back from the dead."

"But what if he never really died!?" exclaimed Pillings. "You can't deny it's a possibility!"

"If he had never died, I don't think he would've waited sixteen years to finally make his move, do you!? The mere mention of it is utterly ridiculous, and I am done talking with you. You will report what I've told you to your editors and to your employer, and the Daily Prophet will continue to write only what is Ministry approved or so help me, I'll have the whole paper shut down. Have I made myself clear?"

Pillings eyed the Minister with an angry, sour scowl before replying. "Crystal."

*****************************

Eight o'clock had turned into nine forty five with such a fast revolution of the clocks hands that as Fudge caught a glimpse of his own office clock, he almost felt as if he'd used a time turner.

Umbridge still sat beside him on a plush, green chair, one that made her appear she was perched on a giant toadstool.

Fudge rubbed his temples. The annoying reporter for the Prophet had finally taken his leave, thank Merlin. The Minister paused in his recitation of notes to Percy, which caused the latter to look up from his scratching.

"Minister Fudge are you alright? Might I get you something?"

"No... I'm fine Wilkins, perfectly fine, thank you."

Percy scowled inwardly. Two and a half years working for Cornelius Fudge, and the Minister had yet to get his name right. Ah well, thought Percy with a sniff, it doesn't really matter, after all. After Umbridge, he was next in line to take the position of Minister of Magic, and he was not going to let something as trivial as being named incorrectly hurt his chances, was he?

Fudge sighed. "Albus Dumbledore won't rest until he has brainwashed the entirety of the Wizarding community! He sits at that damnable school, day after day, with nothing to do but hatch horrible plans to take over the very heart of our government, using that devious, mental Potter lad to do it! The very thought sickens me."

Percy nodded vigorously. "I agree with you one hundred percent, Minister. Potter is delusional... I've known it for a long time. However, he is quite good at passing off his fantasies as reality. I'm sure soon as Dumbledore recognised the opportunity to fool the public he seized on it. He might be old, but he is certainly as cunning as ever."

Delores Umbridge smiled slyly, her beady eyes moving from Percy to the Minister and back as if watching a particularly entertaining cricket match.

"Too true, Williams, too true," stated Fudge grudgingly, now looking up from staring at his highly polished desk. "And it is late, isn't it? This report must be finished up, but soon as we're done with it, we'll call it a night. I'm feeling the need for a long rest."

Umbridge shifted a bit in her seat and eyed him. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get it soon enough."

"Let us hope so," Fudge grunted, and then opened his mouth to begin reciting to Percy, who had his quill poised and ready, once again. However, Umbridge spoke up again.

"Oh you need not hope on it," she grinned sweetly. "You do so much for the Wizarding world. You deserve a nice long rest... I'm sure it will be coming any minute now."

Both Fudge and Percy shifted a bit to glance confusedly at her, but Umbridge's only reply was a calm glance at the Ministry's wall clock. The scroll and wand hands clicked over, and the muffled gonging of the tenth evening hour began. However, along with it, came several other events.

Three loud cracking noises sounded directly behind them. Fudge and Percy jumped out of their chairs with small yelps of surprise, and turned to find the sources. Having heard the sounds of apparating so often right after his brothers, Fred and George, received their licenses, Percy recognised the sounds immediately and began fumbling straight away for his wand. However, as it turned out, the figures behind him were prepared for just such an eventuality.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled one figure cloaked all in black. The eyes behind the slits in his hood, crinkling at the corners, were the only thing that alerted them to the fact the Death Eater was smiling.

Percy's wand was instantly snatched from him and soared across the room to land into the hooded man's outstretched hand. However, it was the sight of who, or what, was standing behind the two Death Eaters that filled both Percy and Fudge with a most desperate, utter horror.

Both fell back a bit, completely terrified, though Fudge stumbled back so quickly, he tripped over his chair and landed unceremoniously hard on his arse.

Umbridge grinned.

"There is no need for such an important man as yourself to bow," said Voldemort sarcastically, standing tall, and managing to seem both skeletal and powerful at the same time. The two Death Eaters before him chuckled.

Fudge opened his mouth, but nothing came out save a string of incoherent, wheezing phrases. "Y..y..you… H..h..how… Not p..possib..ble… C..can't be… N..not r..real…"

"Oh I assure you I am very real," said Voldemort with a smile, coming out from behind his Death Eaters to stand before a cowering Fudge.

Percy opened and closed his mouth like an oxygen-starved fish, his eyes wide and staring, and his freckled face completely drained of colour. Beside him, Umbridge stood calmly, her face stretched into an impossibly wide grin.

Fudge turned his jerky gaze her way, the veins standing out so far on his face that they appeared web-like. "D..dream..m…?"

Umbridge shook her head, her grin still plastered in place. "Oh no Cornelius, it is hardly a dream though I can imagine it all must seem quite unreal to you. You've been so easy to manipulate these few years, it's hardly seemed a chore at all... I must thank you before you go."

She gazed at him indulgently. Beside her, Percy promptly fainted. If Voldemort had possessed something more than a glowing red aura for eyes, he would have rolled them with disgust.

"Move the coward to the side," he said, gesturing lazily at Percy's slumped body. The Death Eaters moved forward, seized Percy by the arms, and dragged him across the room to dump him into a corner.

Fudge watched with watery eyes and turned his quivering gaze back onto Voldemort. Fear shot like lightening through his every nerve ending. The dark lord's cold gaze was completely unmoved by Cornelius' obvious terror; a fact that made the Minister's heart beat with anxiety so impossibly fast that it seemed as if the muscle was seizing within his chest.

Voldemort neared him and folded his arms, peering almost conversationally down at him.

"My servant has been reporting your thoughts and actions to me for some time now," he said calmly. "I must say she is not lying. She has come to regard you rather fondly, quite as one would a pet hyppogriff. Nevertheless, as with all things, this too must come to an end. I must say though Minister Fudge, it has most certainly been a pleasure. There is no one who has served me quite so well, I think."

"I d..d..don't unders..st..tand," stuttered Fudge pathetically. "H..how…"

"Oh it is quite simple," said Voldemort, slipping his wand out of the pocket of his robes and tapping it thoughtfully on one thin white hand. "With my servant Malfoy lining your pockets with gold, you have successfully changed many a law to suit our purposes. And your complete refusal for years on end to believe in my survival or return has provided me with enough time and cover to become thoroughly equipped for taking over. Not only have I re-formed my body, but under full concealment of the Ministry I have had enough time to fully attain an army. One that, Salazar willing, will prove the end of the loathsome infiltration of Muggles and mudbloods in our world."

Voldemort smiled a ruthless icy grin. " I have you to thank for that Fudge. Do not think simply because I must kill you now, that I will not be eternally grateful."

"B..but… P..P..Potter…l..lying!" snivelled Fudge, his hands now clasped pathetically in front of him in a pleading gesture. His next words spilled out impossibly fast. "He h..had to have b..been! How could the boy still be al..live after all this time!?"

Voldemort growled furiously, and the look on his pale face was so horrific that Fudge cringed back; the back of his hand against his mouth.

"Potter...," breathed Voldemort dangerously. The hand not holding his wand clenched into a tight fist. "I will take every.. last.. person he loves, and tear them to shreds. Then I'll take his life."

Umbridge's eyes widened with twisted expectation upon hearing Voldemort's words. "I should very much like to see that my lord."

Voldemort nodded once to her, and she grinned maniacally.

Fudge dropped his head, tears of regret now streaming down his face. "Gods… oh g..gods! How could I have been so ruddy blind..." He looked up again into the unrelenting face of Voldemort. "You've had the power to replace m..me with one of your own for some time n..now, I gather. Why haven't you done…"

"Before?" Voldemort cut him off, only too happy to answer the Minister's pointless questions. "Your own refusal to believe I had returned served me well enough, did it not? Why remove one who has done so well on his own? Moreover, my servant needed time within the Ministry to advance her position, and win your trust. These made her indispensable… However, now that she has done, has planted the seeds of doubt concerning Dumbledore within the Daily Prophet, and is next in line for your office, I see no reason any longer to delay the inevitable, do you?"

Fudge's head drooped to his chest in surrender. He knew there was no escaping, and worst of all, knew his own determination to be oblivious to the truth had led him to the position he was now in.

In the corner of the elaborate office Percy had begun to moan. Voldemort waved a careless hand in the direction of his Death Eaters, and they moved at once to drag the half-conscious redhead back over beside Fudge and drop him in a heap.

"Revive him," Voldemort ordered tonelessly.

One Death Eaters stepped forward and pointed his wand. "Rescusito!"

Percy opened his eyes, coughing, spluttering and instantly aware, though the sight of Voldemort looming above him did little to calm his nerves. He gave a pathetic sort of shriek upon gazing up at dark evil figure, and Voldemort bared his teeth in annoyance.

"Silence idiot! How you can be related to the rest of the Weasley clan is astounding to me. They may be poor, filthy blood-traitors, but cowards they are not."

Percy immediately fell silent, though his body continued to shake uncontrollably. Voldemort's lip curled in a disgusted sort of sneer.

"To your fortune Weasley, I wish you to live. Though I will, of course, be obliviating certain information from your mind, you will be the final means to my unveiling. You will watch your employer's death and carry back to the wizarding world the fact that Voldemort has returned."

He smiled widely. "The panic will be widespread. The whole of our world will fall into panicked chaos... until it finally dawns that there must be some sense made of all the confusion. Which is when my servant, as new head of the Ministry, will be called upon to return sanity and order to the people, along with every law and alteration that will benefit our movement."

"But will the people not turn to Dumbledore, as I had feared? They have done before," said Fudge in hopes that Voldemort might see things as he did.

"Oh no," said Voldemort with a satisfied sort of smirk. "They may already be filled with doubt on where his loyalties really lie, and he will be much too busy with what I have planned... Even Dumbledore cannot handle two such large things at once. Make no mistake, the people will turn to the Ministry, and using their confusion, my servant will lead them toward my new order."

Umbridge smiled up at Voldemort. "I live to serve you, master."

"Indeed you do," said Voldemort evenly, raising his wand lazily to point directly between the eyes of a shuddering Cornelius Fudge.

He smiled coldly at him. "It has been a pleasure, Minister… Avada Kedavra!"

Fudge's terrified gaze immediately relaxed and he slumped almost gracefully into a heap beside Percy. Weasley cried out in fear, turning his shocked gaze from the dead Minister back up to Voldemort.

"You shall live as promised," stated Voldemort with an exasperated sigh. "But there are some things you've witnessed today that must remain hidden, are there not?"

He turned for the last time toward Umbridge. "Your duties are evident, I gather?"

"Oh yes my lord," said Umbridge gleefully.

Voldemort nodded to her and to his Death Eaters, and in his mind, focussed on what he did not want Weasley remembering… Delores Umbridge's ties to him, and her attempts to sway public opinion on Dumbledore. He pointed his wand at Percy's head.

"Obliviate!"

No sooner had the spell been cast than Voldemort and his servants disapparated with three loud simultaneous *cracks*.

Umbridge sighed contentedly and glanced at Percy's expression of mingled terror and confusion as he began blabbering about the dark lord. She ignored him and sat down comfortably in her new office chair to begin composing a long owl post. It was one which she would copy and send to the Daily Prophet and to each department head of the Ministry, about the awful, unforeseeable return of Voldemort (with hints of Dumbledore's real loyalties thrown in for good measure), and the tragedy that had just befallen Cornelius Fudge.

***********************************************************

Harry and Hermione left Hagrid, knowing he could never fit inside any school quarters, and followed Harry's father; both noting silently to themselves how his quick stride made it seem as if something bad must have happened.

Down further on the seventh floor, they caught Ron and Lavender having a snog behind a suit of armour standing with its hands on its hips in an utterly disapproving manner. Harry made quick apologies to Lavender and grabbed Ron's arm, dragging him along.

"Oy, Harry!" barked Ron angrily; his hair rumpled and his sweater bunched up round his waist. He wrenched his arm from Harry's grasp. "Are you completely mad!? What'd you do that for!?"

"Something's happened," Hermione answered breathlessly for him.

"Well, what is.."

"Dunno yet," said Harry, "Following Dad to his room. I expect he'll explain there."

As they entered Lupin's quarters, they immediately noticed Dumbledore dressed in his royal purple dressing gown, and perched on one of the armchairs in front of the hearth. He seemed to be conversing with someone in the glowing green fire, and upon coming closer, they immediately recognised the shaggy head.

"Sirius!" said Harry with a wide grin, despite the situation.

"Nice to see you too, Harry." Sirius said, smiling.

Lupin turned away from them toward his dining table to pull up three more chairs for Harry, Hermione, and Ron, but Dumbledore tutted at him.

"No need James, no need…" He waved his wand in a complicated sort of way and three extra plush armchairs appeared beside Lupin's.

The four sat, and Sirius eyed them gravely. "You've figured out why you're here, I suppose."

Harry grimaced. "What's happened…"

"Albus and I've been discussing it," said Sirius. He went on to describe in detail the most recent murders done in Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and in Muggle England, Surrey. Hermione gave a horrified jump when he described yesterday morning's news of an explosion at a mall, which Muggle authorities were investigating as some sort of terrorist act.

"Bloody hell," breathed Ron, his eyes wide. "What's a mall, then? Were there a lot of Muggles killed?"

"It's one huge building full of shops," stated Hermione miserably. Harry reached over and grabbed her hand. "Thank Merlin mum and dad are with Gran in Edinburgh…"

"That's good news at least," said Lupin.

"A mall doesn't sound very important though, does it?" stated Ron. "Wonder why Voldemort would want to attack it?"

"For no other reason than to strike fear into our world and into the Muggles," said Dumbledore with an anger that seemed oddly out of sorts on his usually amiable face. "And the fact he's chosen such a large group of targets at once to attack is a very bad sign, I'm afraid."

Harry gazed over at him and spoke quietly. "Why's that?"

"Because it means he's getting ready to make himself known," answered Sirius ominously.

"But to the Muggles as well!?" blurted Hermione. "If he did, what then? It'd give him a lot more enemies at once to fight, wouldn't it? I can't believe he would be so daft."

"Nor can I," said Dumbledore. "Which is why I believe he's choosing to attack Muggle civilians. To attack those in government would bring about a whole different sort of investigation. He'll save that until he's ready to completely take over Muggle England... No... these attacks were simply to spread fear and panic in both our world and theirs."

"And yet he's attacked our government," said Sirius angrily, "which is what we were just discussing. And taking into account what you just said Albus, we can only assume he's at least ready to try taking over our side."

"Confusion and disorder are clever tactics when planning a war," said Lupin.

Harry stiffened. "Wh…hang on… What'd you mean he's attacked our government!?"

"We were getting to that," sighed Lupin tiredly, glancing at the clock on his mantle reading six a.m. Upon looking out the window, he realised with a bit of shock that the pink, orange and dusky purple of early sunrise had already begun painting the mountain peaks beyond the school.

Dumbledore spoke up. "Round midnight I received an owl from one of my loyal contacts at the Prophet. It was a copy of a letter from the Ministry, detailing the murder of Cornelius Fudge by Voldemort some two hours earlier, and making hints at my own 'true loyalties'."

"No one will believe that rubbish," scowled Sirius.

But Harry, Hermione and Ron gasped aloud.

"Voldemort killed Minister Fudge!?" cried Hermione. "But how was he able to get into the building!? There are anti-apparition wards, and Ron's dad said after working hours they shut down all the floos!"

"Never stopped him before, did it?" Ron said angrily. "But after what happened two years ago you would think the Ministry would bodge up their bloody defences better!"

But Harry's eyes narrowed. "And now that Fudge is gone, who's acting Minister in his stead?" he asked Dumbledore.

"Delores Umbridge was next in line," Dumbledore answered, with distinct suspicion in his voice. "It was also she who wrote the letter."

Harry swore furiously, thumping a fist on the arm of his chair. "Son of a bitch… There's your answer, Hermione. She must've lifted the wards to allow him access."

"Of that I have no doubt, Harry." Dumbledore said, and then shifted his focus on Ron. "Ronald, your brother Percy witnessed the attack on Fudge."

Ron's face paled, and several emotions tore through his body at once. Fear for his brother, although he still wholeheartedly considered him a bastard for turning his back on his own family, Harry and Dumbledore; relief that he had finally seen the truth with his own eyes, and immense satisfaction that the arsehole finally knew he had been wrong all along. However, in the end, fear won out above all others.

"Is he alright?"

"He's alive," said Dumbledore. "Although I dare say he's a bit shaken up for it. Molly sent word…he's at the Burrow as we speak."

"The Burrow!?" exclaimed Ron. His expression was one of mingled shock and awe. "Bloody hell... Only time he's been back in two years was for Bill's funeral."

"I imagine he's had a change of heart," Sirius said drolly, with a subtle raise of one eyebrow.

"No doubt," said Lupin. "Coming face to face with Voldemort must've woken him right up."

Harry continued to stare moodily out into the now dawning morning, with Hermione glancing worriedly at him.

Dumbledore spoke up into the quiet. "I'm certain it was Fudge restraining the Prophet from overly reporting the recent killings."

"Overly reporting?" scoffed Harry. "If you hadn't just told us what's been happening, we wouldn't have known. I've not seen anything on them!"

"Oh the articles are there," said Sirius, whose head was still wavering among the green tinted flames of Lupin's hearth. "Though you practically have to bang out a magnifying glass to see them as they're so small and hidden in the least likely areas of the paper. I found the article on Florean Fortescue's attack hidden near an advertisement for jewellery at Bernadette's Bangles and Bobs. Got her after closing as she was counting her till. She's half-Muggle, you know."

"Is… Is she dead?" Ron asked, horrified.

"Oh yeah," said Sirius flatly. "And I would expect nothing less. Even emptied the till, though I'm sure that was to make it seem like some sort of bungled robbery. But that's all bullocks, isn't it? Even before this letter half the wizarding world was already sure he was back, no matter how much the Ministry tried denying it."

"Or covering it up," Harry said in a forced sort of calm.

"I do believe Cornelius simply could not bear to believe the truth, Harry," stated Dumbledore quietly. "And now, with him gone, and Umbridge in control of the Ministry, I'm certain she will begin changing things round to Voldemort's advantage. Just as certain as I am, that the fact that Voldemort has now ended the life of one who has been so valuable in concealing the reality of his return can only mean one thing."

Lupin spoke up quietly. "He's ready for war."

Dumbledore nodded. "Most certainly. It is now only a matter of time until he makes his demands known, or, as I'm sure he knows of our resistance, tries attacking us." He nodded toward Harry, Hermione and Ron. "I'm sorry I sent for you three so early in the morning, but I wanted you warned. Ronald, you and Hermione will be invaluable to Harry's success when the final battle with Voldemort comes about, but you both know that. You three have some sort of extra power when you're together, and you mustn't abandon it... at any cost."

The Headmaster sent a quick, significant glance Harry's way as if sending him a mental warning. He knows your death is the key to regaining his powers… He'll send for you, and he'll want you alone…Be prepared, Harry… He'll send for you…

Nevertheless, Harry already knew, and didn't need a meaningful look from Dumbledore to begin his thoughts swirling in an ever maddeningly, anxiety filled rush. After all, he already looked for the owl to come every night. THE owl. The one that would make him choose between the deaths of countless others, or a one on one face-off between himself and the dark lord. He knew it was coming… it was only a matter of time…

"Well I imagine the death of the Minister of Magic ought to make the front page of the Prophet, as well as a few well-placed insinuations about you Albus," said Lupin gravely, standing. "Breakfast should be quite the affair this morning."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, standing as well. He turned to look at Sirius, who had turned his head to speak to someone beyond what they could see.

"I know that, Petunia, and Dudley will be fed, rest assured… Because my refrigerator is self-filling! It replenishes itself when it's low… NO, it won't hurt you!"

He turned his haggard face back toward Lupin's quarters, and received mixed looks of pity and wry smiles all round.

"How are you handling it?" asked Harry, his hands shoved in his pockets, and the corners of his mouth twitching suspiciously. Hermione glowered disapprovingly at him and Ron.

Sirius glared at him and muttered. "As well as you did, I reckon. They are… somewhat demanding, aren't they?"

Harry finally gave up and grinned. "Demanding? I could think of stronger words for it."

Sirius turned his head for a moment as if checking that all was clear, and turned back round, grimacing. "All right, you sod. They're right pains in the arse, that's what. Petunia feeds me a steady diet of nagging when she's not found something to clean, which is a trial within itself, at times. She found a nest of chizpurfle last week in a pile of old rags Kreacher must've bundled long ago for an extra bed in Buckbeak's old room. Still haven't found every foul thing he scattered about… anyway… She almost fainted…started shouting at me as if it was my fault… took her a week to try cleaning again. And Dudley... Merlin's beard... thank Godric Hagrid took Buckbeak someplace else last year or I'm afraid I might've woken up one day to a pile of nothing but hippogriff bones. I don't know if it's boredom or what… but when the boy's not whining and complaining, he's eating everything in sight! My cooler almost can't keep up with him. I think it's becoming resentful. It tried to chomp my hand off last night when I reached in for a butterbeer."

"Oh Sirius," Hermione cooed sympathetically.

"HA! Now you see what Harry's lived with for so long!" Ron guffawed so loud that Hermione pinched him hard on the arm.

"Minus Vernon, of course," said Harry.

Lupin glanced apologetically Harry's way, regretting to the very day leaving his son with such people, but saw he had only a grin on his face.

"Sorry you're having to put up with them," Harry smiled. "I can only hope it won't be much longer, but…"

Sirius shook his head. "Ah well… no worries, Harry. I must say having them round is better than no company at all. And each night after the evening news, they both seem a bit more grateful for their protection here. I've been teaching them to understand what bits of the news might be Voldemort's doing. They're usually far more settled after."

"I can imagine," said Lupin.

Sirius spoke a few words more and then vanished himself from the fire, leaving Dumbledore, Lupin, Harry, Hermione and Ron alone in the room.

After a moment's silence, Ron sighed. "I should go see Percy, I suppose... Not that the git deserves any pity, mind you."

Dumbledore favoured him with a wan smile. "You can floo home from my office if you like. I'm giving you three the day off from school as I can't imagine you'll be able to concentrate on only a few hours sleep…"

Hermione immediately spoke up in a fast, panicky sort of voice. "No! Professor Dumbledore we can't afford to take any time off… N.E.W.T.s are only a few months away and we're already behind on studying as it is…"

Dumbledore held up a hand and fought the wry smile that threatened to take over his expression. "As you wish, Ms. Granger, as you wish. I'm only giving you the option."

"I'll take you up on it," said Ron as he stood and yawned. "I should probably go home to see the prat's alright."

Hermione scowled. "Yes well, I imagine a long night's worth of snogging must be quite exhausting," she said scornfully as she stood.

"How's that?" asked Lupin, frowning.

Ron eyed her with disbelief and grabbed her arm, pulling her to one side. He rasped out a reply through clenched teeth. " 'Mione... I thought we were mates…"

"You shouldn't be let off from school because you were out late in the halls with Lavender!" Hermione scolded quietly. "It's our seventh year in case you've forgot, Ron! We can't afford to sod about anymore!"

Harry paid them no attention. "I'll take it too, Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione whirled around. "Harry! Not you too…"

"I've got a lot to think on," he said firmly. "You can go to classes if you want... I'll go back tomorrow, no worries."

Hermione sagged, looking thoroughly disappointed.

Lupin smiled fondly at Hermione. "Let's at least all have breakfast first. I imagine Dobby can have something for us this early, can't he?"

Dumbledore nodded, and all left Lupin's quarters together to head to the Great Hall, each with expectations of the Daily Prophet's newest headline emblazoned in their thoughts.