Chapter 11: The Minister of Magic

"And then she pissed herself. I mean, she actually pissed herself. And I told her, have some bloody respect. Are you a Pureblood or not? Then she started crying, "No, don't hurt him. He's done nothing to nobody." Yaxley spoke in a mocking falsetto impression. "So I told her he assaulted me with his stench!"

Yaxley hollered with laughter banging his fist onto the desk, oblivious to Harry's increasingly queasy expression. Harry wasn't sure how much more he could take of this, which wasn't factoring in the mission. They were running out of time, but Harry felt the more significant danger wasn't the Polyjuice wearing off but Harry blowing Yaxley to smithereens.

"Bloody Squib, what a sad lot they are. You know my cousin was a Squib. It was fucking embarrassing! My aunt refused to show her face for a year. Thank Merlin then that she saw reason and left him at a Muggle Orphanage. It certainly the Humane thing to do, but still to live without magic, is that really so Humane?" Yaxley scowled before hissing. "If I had a Squib child, not that I ever would mind you, but if I had, you can bet I wouldn't send it to live amongst the Muggles. No, I would do "the Humane thing" if you know what I'm saying."

"Raise it, and love it?" Harry uttered weakly.

Yaxley roared with laughter as he repetitively bashed his fist against the table. "You are a sick bastard. Would you give hope to a chicken before the axe? Where there is life, there's hope, and hope is cruel."

"Muggles seem to be doing pretty well by themselves," Harry muttered but hastily clarified at seeing Yaxley's eyes narrow. "Don't mistake me. I despise M...Muggles, but...they can fend for themselves."

"The very few Muggles who live beyond one century are weak and infirm." Yaxley countered with a snarl. "They are cursed with short lives, trapped in decaying bodies. They are oozing with infectious diseases; worst of all, they have no magic. Magic is the blessing of what Muggles falsely call God. Well, we are God's children, and they are the meek who inherited the earth. They are raping the land, profiting from war, and living with impunity. And they call us monsters."

Yaxley took a deep breath and seemed to calm down. "I should not have lost my temper. You, of all people, understand the threat of Muggles Runcorn. It is the Minister's belief that the Muggles should serve the Might of Magic, but I believe that is inhumane. They do not belong in the new world, and the humane thing to do is to put them out of their misery. But do you want me to let you in on a little secret?"

Harry nodded uncertainly, and Yaxley whispered. "They're not human."

Yaxley then laughed uproariously before adding. "Their closest relative is not the Wizard, but the chimpanzee. That is what the Dark Lord taught us."

"The Dark Lord?" Harry uttered, his hand going for his wand as Yazley paused and glared.

"I shouldn't have said that. I should not have said that!" Yaxley muttered under his breath as he stared at Harry with beady black eyes.

Suddenly Harry's wand was out, and Yaxley's was aimed at his scar. Yaxley's eyes rolled up to see the wand between them, and Harry knew what he what thinking because their thoughts were alike. He could reach out and snatch that wand from his hand if he was quick enough. Yet neither man moved, neither man dared. Harry's face was stone, but his heart was in his throat. Yaxley smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You fire upon me. You won't leave this building alive."

"And if you try to cast anything, I'll blow your brains out," Harry growled, neither man blinking. "I bevel this is what the Muggles call a Mexican standoff."

"What do the Bloody Mexicans have to do with this?" Yaxley scoffed as the wand drew his eye toward it like a magnet.

"It means neither one of us is walking out of here alive unless we come to an understanding," Harry answered as calmly as he could manage, refusing to look at the wand aimed at his head. "You do know being a death eater is against the Law?"

"I am the law!" Yaxley roared as he glared at Harry. "Open your eyes, Runcorn. Do you think any of this is possible without the Dark Lord? The Mudbloods would still be walking through these sacred halls with impunity if it weren't for him. No more, now they shall be cleansed from our society like the disease they are."

"Maybe I'm not as blind as you think, Yaxley." Harry declared, putting all his acting skills to the test. "Maybe I know exactly how the meat gets made. Maybe I want in."

Harry lowered his wand and prayed it wasn't a mistake. Yaxley slowly lowered his wand and smiled darkly. "How can I trust you."

"You can't, nor can you, pretend that I haven't been a valuable asset to your new order," Harry answered before whispering. "Do you think you're fooling anyone with this charade? Only the gullible and naive believe that V...The Dark Lord is not pulling the strings. If your master wanted to trick the Wizarding world, surely he would be more subtle than this? Unless you expect me to believe the Dark Lord is a fool?"

"The Dark Lord is no fool. He is a genius!" Yaxley grinned wickedly. "The Dark Lord rules with fear, and what stokes more fear than uncertainty and doubt? We know the Dark Lord is in charge, and they know it too, but the fact they don't know is terrifying. None will dare rise to contend with the Dark Lord's rule, not without proof that he is indeed in power. By the time the people know the truth, it will already be too late."

Harry was chilled by how accurate the Death Eaters' words were, and a part of him wondered if it wasn't already too late. "It's almost too easy. The war had barely even begun, and already Great Briton is ours."

"That is because, unlike last time, the Ministry was ripe for the plucking," Yaxley smirked smugly at his supposed subordinate. "They should've killed us while they had the chance. Instead, they allowed the inmates to run the Asylum. When the Dark Lord up and vanished, we knew it was only temporary. The loyalists were sent to Azkaban, but the wise rose through the Ministry ranks, claimed a position of power, and waited for our Lord's return. I do not mean to speak ill of all the Loyalists, many were already arrested, and some, like Bellatrix, had no future in politics. Better to be a Martyr of the cause and remain out of trouble."

Yaxley paused for a moment, then smiled brightly. "If you truly wish to be one of us, then I suggest you follow me.."

Harry frowned as Yaxley rushed to the fireplace in the corner of his office and ignited it with a handful of Floo powder, igniting a bright green fire. However, his hairs raised on end when Yaxley stepped to the side and uttered. "You first, Runcorn."

Harry considered running out of that room or drawing his wand on Yaxley. However, despite his misgivings, Harry stepped into the fire. Yaxley yelled something, and suddenly Harry was spinning around, falling into darkness.

Harry landed face-first on the floor but hastily rose to his feet at the sound of cackling. Harry cursed under his breath. He hated floo powder, and now was not the time to make a fool of oneself. Luckily When Harry looked around the room, he saw only Yaxley laughing with glee. "Did you enjoy your trip?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he took in the room he was in and couldn't help but groan. The office was nearly identical to the one he once frequently visited at Hogwarts. The walls were bright pink and covered in portraits of cute little kittens.

Yaxley heard his groan but laughed. "What, you're not a fan of the wonderful Delores Umbridge, but she's so popular."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that sarcasm I detect in your tone."

"Huh, what do you know? I think it is." Yaxley snorted, looking, taking in his surroundings. "It's ghastly, isn't it."

"I'm sure you've seen worse," Harry muttered under his breath as he looked around the room. He did not have to hide his disgust, just his intentions. Walking along the shelves, examining the odd objects he found. "What are these."

"Delores is a collector of more than these atrocities." Yaxley gestures to the pictures of kittens, grimacing as they begin to meow. "Umbridge knew from the beginning. She was there the day the Ministry fell. The Dark Lord offered her a choice, death or power? She was already a powerful ally in our fight against the filth that pollutes magical society. We merely enabled her to clean the streets of Mudbloods."

Harry looked over the collection on Umbridge's shelves. Among them was a broken wand, a round metal object of some nature, what Harry swore was a small piece of bone, a cracked remembrall, and a cute little teddy bear stained with blood,

"They're souvenirs, the fine handiwork of your wretched lot," Harry whispered as he realized what he was seeing.

"I'm sorry you don't approve, but we're no more wretched than the filth we fight against, I assure you." Yaxley snapped back. "Delores longs to join our...raids or at least revel in the success. However, her place in the Ministry to too useful to us, and to be quite frank, she is not welcome amongst us Deatheaters. We would much rather abstain from her company. These treasures of war appease her desires, knowing that she is doing far more for the pure blood cause from behind her desk than in the bloody fray. Also, it makes her feel powerful."

Harry tuned out the Death Eaters pontificating as he walked along the office. To his growing frustration, he could not see any sign of the Locket. "Ahem"

Harry whirled around as if shocked by a cattle prod. Yaxley quickly put down the small bone fragment as Delores Umbridge stood smiling by the door. It took all of Harry's willpower not to reach for his wand at the sight of wicked women who had tortured him for nearly a year. Delores' giggle was like nails on a chalkboard as she spoke. "I'm glad you like my collection, but I told you, Yaxley, not to enter my office without my express permission. I told you the consequences would be severe."

"I...I apologize, madam." Yaxley stuttered as he looked at his shoes, and Harry suddenly was reminded of Hermione when McGonagall reprimanded her for confronting the Mountain Troll. "I...Only meant to."

"Are you sure it is wise to inform Mr. Runcorn here of our true allegiances?" Delores sweetly thought her eyes were malicious. "I would hate for the Dark Lord to hear about this."

Yaxley kept stuttering as Delores Umbridge walked up to Harry and uttered. "Do you want to the piece de resistance of my collection?"

"I see you're already wearing it," Harry answered, his mouth suddenly dry as he found himself staring at Slytherin's Locket hanging around her neck.

"Of course, but this Locket is no mere collectible. It's a family heirloom." Umbridge declared with pride, and Harry had to bite his tongue at the blatant lie. "No, I was referring to this little prize,"

Delores walked over to her desk, where a couple of framed pictures of cats sat, and Harry couldn't help but ask. "Are any of these cats yours?"

"I'm afraid I'm deathly allergic to cats." Umbridge declared before letting out a ghastly squeak of delight as she found the object of her desires. She turned around and showed it to Harry. "Do you know what this is?"

Harry couldn't speak nor feel the air against his skin. Harry was numb to all but the shock that shot through his system before it was replaced with something else, cold, blinding hatred.

Yaxley peered over Harry's shoulder and snorted. "It's just a finger?"

"Not just any finger." Umbridge declared with glee. "This is all that remains of the late Ginevra Weasley. A.K.A. The Girlfriend of Undesirable Number 1."

"Harry Potter," Yaxley murmured under his breath.

Harry could not move or so much as blink. He knew precisely whose' finger it was when he laid eyes on it. Yaxley, however, snorted. "You may have Runcorn speechless, but I can only think of the waste. What good his Potter's bitch to us dead. I heard the Dark Lord was most displeased with Severus for destroying such a valuable tool in apprehending the boy."

"You'll find no argument from me." Umbridge's nodded as she tossed the finger in the air, only for Harry to snatch it. "Still, the milk has been spilled. The Bitch is dead. There is no use crying over it."

As Harry stared at the finger in his hand, his anger grew more volatile by the second. "Ahem."

Harry was oblivious to the world. His only thoughts were how badly he wanted to hurt everyone in this room and why he absolutely could not do what he so deeply desired. "Ahem?"

It was terrible enough Ginny had to lose her finger because of his stupidity. But for Umbridge and her Death Eater friends to keep it as a twisted trophy, celebrating the death of his girlfriend and knowing they would have had to confiscate it from the Weasleys, likely at her funeral! It was enough to drive Harry mad!

"I said AHEM!" Umbridge practically shrieked, and Harry slowly looked up and met her steely eyes. "I'll have that back, Mr. Runcorn, so don't you even think about stealing it."

"How about we trade," Harry uttered with undisguised loathing. "The finger for your locket."

"You can not trade what is not yours." Umbridge hooted, ruffling her feathers like an angry cock. "This Locket was passed down in my family for generations. It once belonged to Slytherin himself, as if I would give it to the like of you, a mere second-generation Wizard."

"Your lying Umbridge." Harry hissed as he reached for his wand. "And you must not tell lies."

Umbridges' eyes bulged from her head, her neck swelling. Harry half expected a croak. "How dare you..."

Suddenly Yaxley was laughing uproariously, and after a moment, Harry and Umbridge did the same, admitting a stale laugh that did not reach their eyes.

Umbridge suddenly paused, her eyes darting towards the door, and with fumbling hands, she stuffed the Locket down the front of her insufferable pink shirt. A knocking on the door followed this. Harry smirked, causing Umbridge to glare at him, turning up her nose as she looked to Yaxley, who opened the door.

The Minister of Magic stepped into the room, and Harry immediately realized their theory had been correct. Even Fudge had more charisma and purpose than this shell of a man, who greeted Yaxley and Umbridge politely and appeared submissive to their whims as they guided the man to a chair as if he were an infirm old man. He's under the imperious; there's no doubt about that.

Harry joined the three at a table, looking at his watch only to remember it wasn't there. It was the sulking Umbridge who noticed this and asked. "Do you have a better place to be than the company of the Minister of Magic?"

"The trial..."

"Will start when I say it starts and not a moment before. I do not amend my schedules for Mudbloods and Muggles." Umbridge snapped before turning to Yaxley, who was smirking at her. "What?"

"Family heirloom, my arse. You're just bitter that Runcorn called you on your shit." Yaxley cackled with delight. "Very bold of you to call Runcorn a second-generation Wizard when I have it on good authority that you are filthy half-blood."

Harry raised his eyes at this declaration. Things were starting to get interesting. "A Halfblood, you say?"

"Oh, it gets better. Umbridge has a brother, a squib, no less." Yaxley hissed with a sinister grin as Umbridge turned purple, and Harry was reminded of his Uncle. "Umbridge is the son of a Muggle who begot a filthy Squib. It's a wonder you have any magic at all."

Harry smirked at Umbridge and let out a snarky laugh. "Why am I not surprised? You always were a hypocrite."

"Hypocrisy has nothing to do with it, Runcorn." Delores snarled before turning to Yaxley and speaking in a sickly sweet voice as if she was still a professor. "Yaxley, surely you know that if at least one parent is of rich pure blood, they can quite easily birth a strong magical child even with a Muggle. However, the odds of spawning a squib are regrettably high."

Delores glared at Harry and snapped. "My Father was a gullible fool to think there wouldn't be consequences to breeding with a muggle, but he learned his lesson. I mourn my brother, who could've been so much more if only he had a Mother of higher stock. He is such a waste. My Father and I disowned my inferior family, and I am happy to say I have not seen nor heard of them since."

Harry shook his head. Despite everything he had been through, especially at the hands of the Dursleys, he still couldn't understand how people could forsake their families in the name of magic. Finally, Harry leaned forward and spoke icily. "I do not blame you for your family Umbridge. I judge you solely by your actions."

Umbridge smiled at this, oblivious to the insult, though Yaxley failed to stifle a chuckle. Harry then spoke. "However, I do wonder, for someone who passes judgment and death on Muggles and M...Mudbloods of the world, I do wonder. What would you do if your Mother and Brother were to stand before your gavel?"

Umbridge leaned across the desk, and Harry suddenly found himself staring at the women who sicked the Dementors on him. "I wouldn't even flinch."

Harry could feel the tension in the air as the two stared each other down. Yaxley tried to break the attention by throwing an arm around the Minister's shoulders, whose face was as impassive and blank as an unplugged toaster. "Why don't we ask the Minister of Magic about his views on Halfbloods and Halfbreeds."

The Minister said nothing, and Yaxley laughed. "Oh, don't be shy. Please enlighten us with your wisdom, oh great Minister."

"Remove your arm." The Minister suddenly demanded with a cold calm voice, and a blinding pain pierced through Harry's head, right where his scar would be. Immediately Harry was graced with clarity. He knew who had spoken.

The Minister slowly turned his head to Yaxley. Harry felt like a Dementor had consumed all the warmth from the room. "Is this how you treat thy Lord."

"N...N...Never Master." Yaxley stuttered with fear. "I swear I was just-"

"Tempting as it may be to revel in your superiors enslavement, let me remind you that he is not just any Minister. His words are my words, and my word is the law. His authority is my rule. Through this puppet, all of England is bent to my will. Any slight against this pitiful creature is a slight against me. Insult me again, and you shall rot with the Mudbloods."

"I swear on my life and magic. I shall never again-"

"Silence! I detest groveling." Voldemort hissed through the Minister's lips before turning his gaze to Harry. "Is something the matter, Runcorn?"

"Stomach ache," Harry grunted as he dug his nail into the table hard enough to leave marks. All the while thinking. "Merlin, help me."

"Must be quite the ailment," Voldemort murmured, the Minister's eyes perceiving through Harry's, only to frown. "Be grateful that you are not as weak as the Wizard I now control. Exerting my will over this fool leaves me feeling...infirm. Imagine being a Muggle."

"Infirm?' Umbridge whispered hesitantly.

"My powers are limited by this cumbersome vessel." Voldemort hissed, his eyes not leaving Harry's. "But make no mistake. I can tell when you're lying."

Harry tensed at this, and Voldemort glared. "You know who I am."

Harry slowly nodded, his hand inched toward his wand. Voldemort pressed on. "How did you come into this information."

Harry looked to Yaxley, who was horrified. Voldemort sneered as he turned to his devout follower. "Did he now? I'll deal with you later."

Umbridge couldn't help but utter. "You should be more careful, Yaxley; loose lips sink ships."

"Are you implying my empire can be sunk like a filthy muggle boat," Voldemort uttered coldly, and Umbridge realized her mistake.

"I only meant..."

"My reign has just begun!" Voldemort hissed, glowering. "As long as I live, the sun shall never set on my empire, and believe me, Delores, I shall live for a very long time!"

The room fell silent, and after a moment, Voldemort finally spoke. "Serve me well, Runcorn, and you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest fantasies. Disappoint me, and you shall be replaced."

Harry nodded slowly, not daring to speak. Voldemort leaned forward and hissed. "Now tell me, Albert Runcorn, about your ailment, and believe me, I will know when you're lying."

"I meant headache." Harry's words rushed from his mouth, feeling as if the walls were closing in all around him. "I had too much to drink last night and was embarrassed to admit it."

Harry preyed this was close enough to the truth to throw off Voldemort's sent, and he did seem to relax at this. Satisfied, the Dark Lord spoke to everyone in the room. "For the foreseeable future, I shall be ruling from afar. What I now say shall not be repeated, not even by myself. You three are the heads of the Muggleborn registration act, but in reality, we will be systematically arresting, imprisoning, and then killing Mudbloods and Muggles. Rest assured; you shall not stain your hands with dirty blood. Your inferiors shall handle such duties. However, you shall oversee inspections of Azkaban, which is in the final stages of reconstruction into a Deathcamp."

Voldemort turned to Runcorn, who was fighting hard not to spew all over the table. "Runcorn, your job is to investigate Magical families, particularly those within the Ministry, to remove the influence of Mudbloods. You will also share duties with Yaxley, who shall search the homes of Purebloods and blood traitors, for some will harbor fugitives of our justice. Yaxley, you will also be the unofficial head of the snatchers, who shall come through the continent in search of fugitives. You are the law, so use it with impunity, stamp the Mudblood out, and destroy those you can't arrest."

Voldemort then turned to Umbridge. "Your duties are the most important, Delores. You shall legitimize our noble genocide. You shall continue to condemn Mudblood in the court of law, rewrite the laws that protect them, and strip away the rights of the Magical population. I have read your propaganda to turn the Magical population against the Mudbloods and Muggles, and you will continue to do so."

Voldemort's smile turned predatory as he declared. "You shall be in charge of running my country in my stead. All in the Ministry shall answer to you, all that is, but my most loyal Deatheaters. Don't let this power corrupt your mind, Delores. You don't want to assert your newfound power over, say, Bellatrix."

Yaxley laughed at this while Umbridge looked to be shedding tears. "Thank sir. Merlin, thank you. I shan't disappoint you."

"I shall hold you to that. You don't want me as your enemy." Voldermort uttered, offering his hand to Umbridge, who kissed it in the act of subservience. "Now I believe you have Justice to deliver."

"Yes, my lord," Delores nodded hastily before rising to her stumpy feet. She shuffled to the door before stopping and turning to Harry. "I want my finger back, Albert."

Harry instinctively tightened his grasp on Ginny's fingers. For the first time, Voldemort looked confused. "What finger."

"Delores as the finger of the bitch who dated Potter." Yaxley blurted out bluntly, unable to restrain himself from speaking. "Runcorn seems rather fond of it himself."

"Is he now." Voldemort looked at Harry with an intrigued grin, extending his hand. "May I take a look?"

Harry stared at the hand and slowly, against his baser desires, dropped the finger into Voldemort's outstretched hand. Voldemort examined the finger and, after a moment, nodded. "Ginerva Weasley, the youngest daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley, and yet, according to classified files, you unearthed Yaxley, the Heir of Slytherin."

Yaxley began uproariously laughing as if he heard the funniest joke in the world while Harry gritted his teeth. Voldemort frowned before turning to Delores. "As much as I would love to revel in Potter's misery, I'm afraid I have some disconcerting knew for you all."

Voldemort lazily flicked the finger onto the table, and it rolled within Harry's reach, yet it took all his willpower not to reach out and take it, especially with Voldemort's eyes on him. "Ginerva Weasley is not dead."

Harry felt his heart drop. Yaxley raised his eyes while Umbridge looked like she discovered her engagement ring was leprechaun gold. Yet Voldemort did not take his gaze away from Harry, who schooled his features into a frown. Yaxley, of course, was the one to break the silence. "My Lord, are you certain?"

"You doubt my knowledge," Voldemort questioned before waving off Yaxley's stuttering. "I have more than mere suspicions. I looked through the mind of a Muggle. The supposedly deceased Weasley girl was spotted aiding and abetting Potter and his friends. You have been fooled."

"That's impossible!" Delores squawked before shrinking under Voldemort's glare. "We questioned the Weasley family."

"Severus believes that at the time of our questioning, the Weasley truly believed she was dead," Voldemort whispered, his eyes flashing red. "After all, she was able to fool Severus. So naturally, the hillbillies were easily fooled."

Yaxley laughed as another stab of anger rushed through Harry. Delores expressed her outrage. "How could a girl, not even seventeen, fool a man as wise as Severus?"

"The same thing that caused the greatest Wizard the world has ever known to be vanquished by an infant!" Voldemort proclaimed. "Arrogance. Never underestimate thy enemy. Even a Mudblood can set up a trap, and even a baby can be laced with a trap. Severus, high off slaying the Great Albus Dumbledore, had his head in the clouds. It was up to me to bring him back to earth, swiftly and painfully."

Voldemort looked around and poke with fury. "Never underestimate the Muggles and Mudbloods. The secret to ruling a country is that power is an illusion. They have the power to unite and overthrow us. That's why we must destroy the dregs of rebellion at the ounce. Fear keeps them in line. As long as one stands up to us, they can all stand up, and though many will die, they will overthrow us. The fear of death enslaves them as long as they value their lives over their freedom. Death keeps them in line.

Voldemort slowly looked around the room. "So we must show them death, less they become consumed by the madness of suicidal bravery. We must make an example of the Blood Traitors that the world shall never forget."

Harry felt his blood run cold as he asked. "What do you suggest?"

Voldemort met his gaze before pulling a quill and a piece of parchment from thin air. The Minister elegantly wrote upon the parchment. Then it folded into an airplane before flying through a round hole in the ceiling that Harry had not noticed. After that, they all sat in the most uncomfortable of silences, a deafening quiet that rivaled the Cruciatus on wreaking havoc on Harry's nerves.

Voldemort was staring at Harry with a calm grin on his face.

Voldemort waved his wand, and glasses appeared in front of them. "Yaxley."

"Dragon Gin and Tonic." The Death eater exclaimed.

With a wave of his wand, Voldemort filled Yaxley's glass with a vibrant cocktail. "Delores."

"Chardonnay, from the Hamburg region."

Voldemort smiled as he conjured the blood-red drink. "I've heard Vampires make a good drink. I prefer wine myself."

Voldemort conjured his drink with ease, though noticeably less than the rest. "I was never a fan of alcohol, but this cheap muggle wine takes me back to a simpler time and reminds me of how far I've come."

Voldemort seemed lost in thought as he went to take a sip, but before the glass touched his lip, he paused. "Oh, pardon me, Runcorn, I've forgotten your drink?"

"I'm not thirsty," Harry uttered and grimaced at the cracking of his voice.

"Please, I insist." Voldemort urged in an almost kind voice if not for the warning in Harry's heart. "If you are truly one of us then we must drink to you. What Dark Lord would I be if I did not welcome you to our fold with the grace you deserve."

"I...I..." Harry swallowed and gasped. "Perhaps I a little Firewiskey."

"An excellent choice." Voldemort hissed as he conjured Harry a glass of Firewiskey and placed it in front of him. "I assume this was what you had last night?"

Harry nodded as he rubbed his forehead, which had not stopped throbbing since Voldemort entered the room. He glanced at Yaxley and found the Death Eater had an odd look on his face before smiling brightly. Voldemort continued. "Then may the cause be the remedy to your ailment."

"A Toast," Voldemort exclaimed before looking to Yaxley. "What should be toast too."

Yaxley's features grimaced in deep thought before his eyes reached the finger in Harry's hands. "To the heir of Slytherin."

Voldemort chuckled at this before shaking his head. "No, I've got a better idea."

Voldemort raised his glass, and everyone mirrored him. Then Voldemort proclaimed. "To Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived."

Umbridge and Yaxley choked on their drink, with the latter spitting it out in a burst of laughter. Harry swallowed his so fast that he started choking. Oblivious to the chaos around him, Voldemort drank his wine and sighed. "It's the strangest thing, the things you miss when you've lost everything. I took so much for granted. I even swore I would never drink cheap muggle wine again. When I lost my powers, I thought things couldn't get worse, but they did. I found there was no bottom to my descent. Shame begets more shame, dignity long forsaken, and my pride was shattered against the rocks like a newborn babe."

"Yet my resolve never wavered. I knew I was destined for Greatness, even when I was forced to grovel among Muggle orphans, and the only pleasure that could be found was from the wine I stole and asserting my will on my peers. So even in the bleakest moments of my exile, I never lost faith. Now, at last, my faith is rewarded. The Country is mine, and soon the world will follow. The Muggles will learn their place or be crushed beneath the wheel of my industry, and strangely enough, I knew that I would one day drink my cheap muggle wine."

Voldemort laughed as he stared at Harry. "If my exile taught me one thing, it was to enjoy the small thing in life. I was so obsessed with power, I forgot why I wanted it in the first place. You see, I enjoy it, the suffering of my inferiors. My victims' screams are like the comfort of a long-lost vice. I can assure you, "Runcorn," I'm going to enjoy this."

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his hand as a flash of glee shot through him, and suddenly he understood. "Protego!"

Harry recoiled as a curse shattered against his shield as the Minister cackled, his voice cracking painfully, for the Minister never cackled before Voldemort took hold of him. "Very good, very good. You played your role well. I almost would have believed if you had not given yourself away."

Harry kept his wand fixed on Voldemort as he noticed Yaxley's wand aimed at him. Delores looked between them. "I don't understand?"

"Then it's a good thing your not an Auror," Yaxley exclaimed as he fixed his beady eye on Harry. "We toast with an imposter."

"And you brought him to the table." Voldemort hissed as he twirled his wand around his finger. "If not for me, you would've told him our plans and let him walk out the door. It's a pity you're an Auror."

"I KNEW IT!" Umbridge shrieked triumphantly. Harry lunged and dodged Yaxley's curse as he hauled a screaming Umbridge out of her seat, using her as a shield while jamming his wand deep into the Witch's neck. "Unhand me this instant, you wretched-"

"What gave me away," Harry snapped, knowing the best way to buy time was to keep the Dark Lord talking.

"You gave yourself away from the start, thanks to your, hangover. Let this be a lesson in sobriety." Voldemort proclaimed with a malicious laugh. "Runcorn doesn't drink."

Yaxley's laughter, subdued by Voldemort's glare, bodes ill for the Death Eaters' future. "Take his wand."

"Make one move, and I'll cut her throat." Harry hollered as he pressed the wand deep into the fat of her neck, and a trickle of blood poured down the whimpering Delore's throat.

"Do what he says," Umbridge whispered meekly.

"Silence!" Voldemort roared before hissing. "Go ahead, kill her. Cut her head off. It would pain me to lose such a useful follower, but for our noble cause, my followers are willing to die."

"Are you mad! Save-" Umbridge's squawking was silenced with a wave of Voldemort's wand.

"You think I won't do it." Harry hissed as his wand trembled in his hands. "I'll fucking cut her head off!"

"I don't care," Voldemort smirked, and Harry snarled at the pleased look on his face. Harry knew in his heart that as much as he loathed Umbridge and as dire as the situation was, he could not murder her in cold blood. "What I want to know is...who are you."

"Harry Potter," Harry uttered, nearly dropping his wand in horror as Voldemort laughed uproariously.

"So it wasn't the firewhisky that ailed you," Voldemort smirked. "Though did betray you. You should not have drank from my cup. Why are you here?"

Harry gritted his teeth as the answer formed on his lips. Voldemort hissed. "You have a strong will to have resisted my imperious curse, but you'll find Veritaserum beyond your power to resist. Who else is here with you, and who are they impersonating."

Harry realized Voldemort spoke true, and his willpower could only go so far. Fighting Veritaserum was like resisting a stunner. It was futile. No matter how hard Harry fought it, the potion would win.

Voldemort leaned for and uttered with a twisted grin. "Where is Ginevra Weasley."

Harry's eyes bulged as he felt the words slip from his tongue, and Voldemort's eyes narrowed when his lips moved but uttered no sound. "Clever, you can silence your words, but not your mind. Legilimency."

A whirlwind of images flew through Harry's head. At first, they were random and without meaning suddenly. But, then, they were full of Ginny. First, there was a young Ginny when he first saw her at King's Cross. Then she was lying motionless in the Chamber of Secrets, sharing chocolates in the Library, kissing in front of a crowded common room. Then Ginny was screaming in the throws of her night terrors...

"NO!" Harry roared suddenly. Voldemort was banished from his mind with a shill shriek. When Harry came to Umbridge was free from his arms, and both she and Yaxley were aiming their wands at him. Harry spoke and realized that he was no longer silenced nor under the influence of the Veritaserum potion.

"I have never, in all my years as a public servant, detested anyone more than you, Potter!" Umbridge shrieked in a shrill voice. "Cut my head off, will you? I'll mount your blood head on the above fireplace mantel."

"He belongs to the Dark Lord." Yaxley declared before pausing and looking over his shoulder. "My Lord?"

The Minister was holding his head with a look of agony on his face. Yaxley rushed to his side only to be batted away. "I'm fine, cretin."

Slowly the Dark Lord rose to his feet and aimed his wand at Harry. "Prepare to die, Harry."

Harry aimed his wand at the Miniter of Magic, who winked and attacked. "Stupify."

Umbridge dropped to the floor with a thud, and before Yaxley could respond, Harry blasted him into the wall, where he fell unconscious. Harry turned his wand to the last man standing and hesitantly uttered. "Minister?"

"I am no Minister. I'm as much of a Minister as you are, Albert Runcorn." Pius Thicknesse whispered as he stared off nothingness. "For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

Harry slowly approached the shell-shocked man. "You haven't lost your soul, only for freedom. You didn't do these things. You're not responsible. Now that you're free, you can make things right and show the world what is happening."

"Yes, I must warn them. I must expose this regime for the atrocity it is. Evil, so much evil, and I am the face of it, by my will or not." The Minister tailed off before whispering. "Forever shall my failure live on in history, long after this evil has passed. Will future generations forgive my coerced treachery?"

Harry slowly reached forward and looked the Minister in the eye. "Only if you do what's right."

"What is right?" The Minister questioned before his eyes turned to steel, and Harry saw the lion behind his eyes. "Yes, I shall do what is right. I shall confess my sins to God and country and pray I'm found worthy of salvation. I don't know what you did, Harry, but I shall be eternally grateful for this chance at redemption."

The Minister then turned, casting locking spells on the door. "We don't have much time. I am not free, for he is merely unconscious. When he awakens, I shall be his slave once more. We must act now or forever hold our peace. Harry Potter, I ask that you bear witness to my confession for prosperity, and so all shall be shown the truth."

"I don't understand?" Harry uttered when Pius reached into his robes and pulled out a stone bowl. "A Pensive!"

The Minister nodded. "My Patronus shall spread my message far and wide, but in your hands, the truth shall prevail long after the light goes out. So let us begin before the tide turns and our moment is gone. And before me, and may your eyes be that of a camera, and your ears my microphone."

The Minister positioned Harry in front of him and asked timidly. "How do I look?"

Harry saw the fear in his eyes and answered. "Like the Minister of Magic."

The Minister smiled weakly. "It funny how our greatest dreams can become our living nightmare and, in turn, how our dreams can come true in our darkest hour. Expecto Patronum!"

Harry's eyes widened as a Golden Raven appeared from the Minister's wand, and as the spectral bird perched upon his shoulder, the Minister spoke. "Witches and Wizard, I stand before you to deliver a dire message. I have failed you, for I am not your true Minister. I did not swear upon thy magic and took up this position, nor did I enact or enable the many inhuman laws that volatile the human rights that all people hold, be they Magic or Muggle."

"For the last month, I have been under the Impurouis curse, and under this curse, I struck down Rufus Scrimgeour and ended his time as Minister. I pray that God and Magic forgive me for my betrayal, but I say this not out of guilt but out of the necessity to tell you all the truth, no matter how terrible it may be. Sometimes, a lie may seem right, but the truth is never wrong, for it is reality, and ignorance is the true evil."

"The Ministry is under the rule and will of The Dark Lord V...Voldemort!" The Minister shuddered before bellowing in a mighty voice. "It was Voldemort who bent my will with the horrid imperious curse. I was Voldemort who killed the Minister and overthrew the Ministry of Magic. It is Voldemort who, as we speak, is persecuting MuggleBorns, stripping them of their wands, their freedom, and their lives. Under Voldemort's rule, the Ministry, Hundreds of Muggle Born, have already been sent to Azkaban, with many not living to see the accursed island, and on this island, they shall find only death. On Azkaban, none shall be spared, not the Men, the Women, not even the children. On Azkaban, the Ministry shall taketh and dasheth thy babies against the stones!"

"If we do not act, no Muggle Borns will be left, and what a tragedy that would be. What a profound loss to our world this would be. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise; Muggle Born witches and wizards are as magical as any pureblood, and above all, they are Human. Since when did we let hatred drive us apart? When did we lose our empathy for our fellow man? When did we stop seeing Muggles and their magical children as people? When you cut them, do they not bleed, and is their blood not as red as any pureblood? When did evil become the answer? When did we learn to tolerate such atrocities? "For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

"As my first and final act as Minister, I declare civil war on Voldemort and his Ministry. As long as this tyrant rules us, treason is the only answer. We must fight the Ministry with everything we can until it serves the people once more. Those who will not fight must flee these lands and be subjected to its' evil. Those who do nothing are accomplices to these horrid crimes, and may God have mercy on their souls! We may have differing views, but when faced with evil, there can be no compromise, no reasoning. This evil must be snuffed out, once and for all, before everything we have built is burned away, and are very way of life forever lost, the ashes scattered in the wind."

"I wish I could do more, but I can not lead nor guide you through these dark times. I can only offer you hope. Standing before me is the Chosen One, Harry Potter." Harry nearly stumbled back at the Minister's sudden declaration, and he gave a sad smile. "I know not if such rumors are true, but if not for him, I would still be Voldemort's slave, and you all would be ignorant of the Ministry's downfall. I don't believe in chosen ones, but I do believe in men, and standing before I can see it in his eyes, that Harry Potter is a great man who will fight for us all, lead us through this storm like a lighthouse shining through the darkness until the dawn rises again."

The Minister kindly stepped forward, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and whispered. "I look into your eyes, Harry, and I see hope, not just for one of us, but all of us. I know you are frightened that the burden upon you is too high, but you are stronger than you know and have outstanding courage. You will lead my people to a new tomorrow. So many of us will fall, but we shall not die in vain. If but a fraction of his country had your resolve, then forces of evil don't stand a chance, and are children shall grow in a free world once more."

"As of this moment, I resign as Minister of Magic." Pius declared before whispering. "I pray that you remember me fondly and that my children can forgive me, for I knew not what I did."

No sooner had the words left his lips did the spectral raven take flight, vanishing through the ceiling and was out of sight. Pius took a deep breath, and Harry, wiping unshed tears from his eyes, extended his hand to the former Minister, who smiled and shook it. "Do what must be done, Harry. Voldemort is sturring.

I feel him in my very soul. My time has come. Farewell, Harry. May we meet again in the realm without pain."

"I will." Harry nodded, noticing for the first time that he was no longer Runcorn but was, indeed, Harry Potter once more. Harry turned to Umbridge's unconscious body and hastily retrieved the locket from around her neck. Harry felt his heart grow cold at the Horcrux in his hand and whispered. "It's the strangest thing. It's heavy and cold. I feel...as if I can feel his black heart beating. Minister..."

Harry turned around and stared in horror as Pius held his wand to his head. Harry ran forward shouting. "Minister...Pius...DON'T-"

"Avada Kedavara."

Harry could only stare as Pius collapsed to the ground, his eyes staring up at him like glass, a content smile on his face. Harry knelt with a heavy heart, closing the Minister's eyes as he whispered. "Until we meet again, Pius. You were a great Minister. The best I've ever seen."

Sorry for the delay. I struggled to write this chapter and got covid for the first time. I'm fine now and at least triple-vaxed, but it took a while to get over it. I'm still not 100%, though I'm getting close. I will continue to work on this story, but I'm focusing more on other projects. I plan to start a blog, do more edits to my original novel, and begin a new one. So my updates may be less frequent, but I promise your patience will be rewarded. The following chapter is going to be epic.