Chapter 20: Voldemort

"What are you going to do with me?" Harry demanded. He managed to roll over onto his side and prop himself up a bit, where he could take in more of Umbridge's Ministry office. The pink decor was no surprise given what she'd done with her office at Hogwarts, but this room was larger, and had bookshelves built into the walls that were partially filled with books, but seemed to mainly serve as places to display a large collection of cat figurines. There was a vent with a fancy metal grate on one wall near the floor, likely to aid in air circulation. The worst thing in Umbridge's office was easily Umbridge herself, who was staring down at Harry with an infuriating smirk as she sat comfortably in her cushy office chair.

"I'm not surprised that you haven't worked that out," Umbridge said smugly. "It involves a lot of things that you no doubt know nothing about. Let's just say there's something I want, and you're going to help me get it."

Harry could feel his fear hardening into anger. "Well then, you've wasted your time," he said. "I don't care what you do to me, I'll never help you."

Umbridge laughed. "Oh, Potter, you're not going to have any choice in the matter," she said, her tone giving Harry chills. "But rest assured, the process will kill you. That may not seem like a blessing now, but you can take comfort in the fact that you won't be around to witness the horror that comes afterward. It's going to be quite a spectacle."

It all came crashing down on Harry at once. The thing that Umbridge needed his help to get had to be the Elder Wand. She was the real Voldemort all along, and he'd played right into her hands. If she managed to get the wand in her clutches, it was going to be over for everyone. Harry had never met anyone as evil as Umbridge, and with unfathomable power to back her up, the devastation would be incomprehensible. He knew he had to stop her, but how? What could he possibly do when he barely had the strength to sit up?

"Now, I have to go and take care of something," Umbridge said as she stood up. Harry was so weak that watching her stand felt like a brag. "Be a dear and wait here for me, won't you? I'll be back in a minute and then we'll head off. Think of it as a final field trip, doesn't that sound fun?" And with that, she crossed the room and made her exit, locking the door shut behind her.

Harry gathered the strength to move into a seated position, which he was able to maintain as long as he was propped up against the wall. He supposed that, if he were going to do something to save himself and prevent Umbridge from getting the Elder Wand, this would be his opportunity to do so. But with his hands bound the way they were, he couldn't possibly reach the wand pocket that was sewn into his robes. And even if he could reach his wand, he knew he would only have the strength to cast a single spell at the most. But he didn't have access to his wand, so the question of which spell he would cast was completely useless anyway.

WIth a sigh, Harry awkwardly reached beneath his shirt and pulled out his father's locket. Tom had gone to great lengths to try and warn him about all of this Elder Wand business, had given up everything that was important to him to keep his family safe from Umbridge, and for what? For Harry to ruin it all by thinking he could handle things on his own when he clearly couldn't? He'd only just found out that he had a living father, and he was already letting him down.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Harry said as he stared down at the locket's little snake carvings. It had been in the same building where he was now that he'd first met the man who he now knew to be his father. He could still picture the way Tom had looked at him, like he'd never wanted anything more than the chance to look him in the eyes. How disappointed would he be if he could see his son now?

"Excussse me," a mysterious voice hissed on the other side of the room. Harry glanced over to see a small garden snake slithering out of the vent. "Wasss that you ssspeaking in the language of the sssnakes?" The snake riggled onto the floor and made his way over to Harry.

"Oh," Harry said in surprise. "Was I speaking in Parseltongue?" He knew that his words naturally came out in the snake language when he spoke to snakes, even though to him it still sounded like he was speaking English. But he wasn't aware that he was prone to speaking Parseltongue when looking at mere images of snakes.

"I heard sssomeone ssspeaking Parssseltongue," the snake confirmed. "I sssuppose that mussst have been you. There are not many of your kind."

"No, I suppose there aren't." Harry was so surprised by the snake's sudden appearance that he almost forgot about everything else that was going on. "Were you just in the vent?"

"The young man in the offissse next door keepsss me as a pet," the snake's tone indicated he found this word a bit off-putting. "It'sss a bit odd to live in a tank, but at leassst I don't have to worry about finding mealsss. I wasss intrigued when I heard you ssspeak, however, ssso I came over to sssee who was ssspeaking."

"Ahh. Well, I appreciate you keeping me company."

"It'sss the mossst interesssting thing that'sss happened around here in a while," the snake said. "You ssseem to be in a bit of a predicament."

Harry glanced down at his hands. "Yeah, I guess I am. I don't suppose you can chew through this?" The snake shook its head. "I figured." He sighed.

The snake glanced at the locket that Harry was still awkwardly clutching in his hands. "My children, when all hope isss lossst, follow the sssinking feeling to my ultimate protection."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What was that?"

"The inssscription," said the snake.

"You mean these little symbols on the side?" Harry traced them with his thumb. The snake nodded. "You can read them?"

"It isss an ancient language, remembered only by the sssnakes."

"Well, hope is feeling pretty lost right now, and I've definitely got a sinking feeling," said Harry. "I don't suppose you know what this is supposed to mean?"

"Sssorry."

"Yeah, I figured." Harry leaned his head against the wall and let the locket fall against his chest. "Hey, this is a lot to ask, and I know we don't know each other, but if I don't stop the person who tied me up in here, a lot of good people are going to die. Is there any way you could reach my wand? It's in a pocket over here on the left side of my robes." He did his best to indicate the location of the pocket while his hands were tied together.

"I sssuppose I can try."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. He tried to shift himself in such a way as to give the snake better access. The snake proceeded to slither up Harry's leg, and Harry tried not to get creeped out by it. Then the snake disappeared beneath his robes, seeming to struggle a bit as it made its way to Harry's wand pocket. Harry held his breath, worrying that they weren't going to have enough time to pull this off before Umbridge came back. But the snake pulled through, suddenly wiggling backward out of Harry's robes with his wand gripped in its fanged jaws. "You did it!" Harry said, almost weeping with relief. "You may have just saved so many people, you have no idea. You're a hero." He accepted his wand from the snake, holding it oddly given the circumstances but he had it in his grip nonetheless.

"Glad to be of ssservice," said the snake. "Anything elssse I can help with?"

"You've done plenty," Harry assured the snake. "I have to hurry, she could be back any minute."

"Then, thisss isss where I leave you." The snake slithered back toward the vent.

"Wait," Harry said suddenly. "I never asked your name."

"The man next door callsss me 'Sssimon.'"

"Pleasure to meet you, Simon. I'm Harry Potter."

"Good luck, Harry Potter," Simon hissed before leaving the way he'd come.

Alone again, Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. As he thought about it, he realized that, if he could only cast one spell, there was only one right choice. He'd made the mistake of trying to handle everything on his own up to this point, but he wasn't going to continue making that mistake now. Taking care not to accidentally drop his wand in the process, Harry opened the locket and pulled out his mother's note with his father's address now written on the back. He then gripped his wand as best he could, hoping his current predicament wouldn't make the wand movements too difficult, and said, "Expecto patronum."

The silver stag stood in the middle of Umbridge's office, looking confident and regal. Despite the fact that Harry felt a good chunk of his energy leave his body the moment it appeared, the sight of it gave him the first bit of comfort he'd felt since the moment he woke up. He let out a sigh of relief at the fact that he'd managed to produce it at all.

Just as he'd seen Fred and George do, Harry touched the tip of his wand to the base of his throat before saying, "I'm being taken to the place where the wand is hidden." Then he glanced down at the address, waved his wand and said, "Tom Potter, 7 Clare Terrace, Falmouth, Cornwall." The stag proceeded to take a few prancing steps before disappearing into thin air, off to deliver its message.

By the time he was done, Harry's muscles were beginning to shake with the exertion. He placed the note back into the locket, but knew there was no way he was going to get his wand back into his pocket. It didn't really matter anyway, as there was no way he would have the strength to cast another spell any time soon. Still, as he rolled his wand under the desk and out of sight, he began to feel more vulnerable than he already did.

Now all that was left to do was stall until Tom got there. If he got there.

The moments of silence that followed were soothing, but all too soon, the door lock clicked and Umbridge reentered the office.

"Sorry it took so long," she said. "It's difficult to find good help these days, but we should be all set now." She was carrying some sort of small object that was wrapped in a white handkerchief.

Harry groaned at the sight of her. The last thing he wanted was to prolong these moments, but he had to give Tom as much time as possible to act. So, he thought back to the Summer, when he would distance himself from the Dursleys by mowing neighbors' lawns, prolonging the interactions by chatting with his clients. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he tried to remember how he would keep his neighbors talking by simply finding the right things to say.

"Was it you?" Harry asked. "Were you the one who kept sending the dementors after me?" He knew that Umbridge liked to talk about herself, and he did legitimately have some questions for her that he'd like answered. Perhaps he could get her to brag about her plans, now that there was no one else around and they'd proven themselves to be successful.

Umbridge initially seemed surprised at the questions, but then she smiled. "Very clever, Potter," she said. "I really don't give you enough credit. I suppose you deserve to know, considering you'll be dead soon. Yes, it was I who sent hordes of dementors after you. I used my Ministry access to gain control of them and send them to your home. I tracked you to your little friend's house through the Floo Network records and sent a few more over there. I bewitched that silly little winged ball to lure you away from everyone during your stupid sporting event and then had more of them ambush you in the forest."

"Why?"

"They say that the more pain a person has experienced, the stronger the effects a dementor has on them," Umbridge explained. "You're a miserable little orphan boy, I figured they would knock you out and I could just nab you and be on my way. Yet somehow, you always managed to fight them off. I underestimated you."

Harry scoffed. "Is that a compliment?"

"Perhaps," Umbridge said with a shrug. "Credit where credit is due. You were a worthy opponent, but everyone has their weaknesses. Now then, let's-"

"Exactly how long have you been after me?" Harry cut in, his voice suddenly seething. "Did you have anything to do with what happened to my parents?"

Umbridge's expression hardened. "My, that's a throwback. I see you've been quite busy connecting the dots while I was away. Too little too late, eh Potter?" Harry scowled. "Very well, yes. It was me. I killed Lily and James Potter." She said it with a smile that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up. "That was quite some time ago, of course. I'd tell you it was time you got over it, but I haven't fully gotten over it myself, to tell you the truth."

For some reason, the topic of Harry's parents seemed to be the one that managed to send Umbridge off on a tangent. He allowed her to continue, running out the clock, even if the topic was painful to hear about.

"I worked in the field for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as my first Ministry job, did you know that?" Umbridge continued. She seemed to be getting angrier as she talked. "I was always quite adept at spellcasting. A good strong dueler. It made me very good at my job. I made a lot of interesting contacts. But then, there were the Potters." She said the word 'Potters' with a disgusted tone. "It should have been simple. They didn't see me coming, I was experienced, and how hard is it to kidnap a baby?" Harry felt his eyes burning. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that they fought for you. But they were no match for me. I was unstoppable. I was at the top of my game."

Umbridge wasn't even looking at Harry anymore. She was staring off into the distance, as if she was watching the events she was speaking about from afar. "But magic can be a tricky thing," she said. "You never know when the slightest unknown variable can completely throw everything off. With your pesky parents out of the way, I went in for my prize. It should have been so simple. All I had to do was grab the whiny little brat, and then I could trade it in for the ultimate weapon. What could be simpler? I'd basically already succeeded."

Harry resented being called an 'it' or a 'brat,' especially given that he was sitting right there, but he refrained from saying anything. It was clear that bringing up his parents had struck a nerve.

"But then I grabbed the child, or tried to. Have you ever heard of a love shield, Potter?" Umbridge asked. She seemed to be waiting for an answer for once, so Harry just shook his head. "It's a special magical shield that can sometimes form when someone sacrifices their life for another. Little is known about exactly what triggers it, as it's a pretty rare phenomenon. But I got to see one up close that day. When I tried to take you, I was suddenly hit with a sharp pain. The worst pain I've ever felt." Her face seemed sad as she recalled the pain, her eyes unfocusing. "It was so bad that I had to abandon the plan altogether. I went to a healer, telling them I'd been cursed on the job. They did what they could, the pain went away, but I was never the same. I've never been the dueler I once was, never been able to cast spells with the same power and vigor. I could no longer work in the field, I had to switch over to the administrative side of things." She then looked at Harry with the most hateful look he'd ever seen as she said, "All because of you." Harry gulped, wondering if she was about to forget the wand and kill him right then and there.

"It turned out to be a blessing, I suppose. I rose through the ranks, gained power of another sort. And it looks like I got what I wanted in the end," Umbridge said, and she was smiling again. Her mood swings were giving Harry whiplash. "And by the end of the night, it won't matter that I'm no longer the witch I once was. My spells will be stronger than ever! And you, Potter, will be with those bothersome parents of yours once again."

"They bested you," Harry said. "My parents. You think you defeated them, but you're wrong. Saving themselves was never the goal."

Umbridge waved a hand dismissively. "That's all in the past, now. They prolonged your life a little longer, but I got you in the end. Let's get on with it, then, you got me talking long enough. I have my prize to retrieve." She let the handkerchief she was holding fall open to reveal a cat figurine that seemed to have been carved from pink marble. "An associate of mine has created a portkey for us to travel to our remote destination. I think it's time we were on our way."

Umbridge walked toward Harry, portkey in hand. Harry panicked, limply flopping over onto his side in his effort to keep away from her. "No!" he exclaimed.

"Always with the dramatics," Umbridge muttered. It was no use; Harry wasn't strong enough to resist. Before he knew it, Umbridge had tightly grabbed onto his arm with one hand and the figurine in the other, and the two of them were on their way, leaving the office behind.