When Harry Potter Goes Dark Phoenix

by DZ2

Prompt Response: Magic would not be cheated: if they want four Champions, they have to remember four words: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilandus! Though I'd say this dragon is more like a Phoenix! Evil OP Harry/Astoria

3. Oh Merlin We're Fudged

When Harry Potter Goes Dark Phoenix

Disclaimer: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Review Answers:

Guestthebest: That's the plan – to finish it, I mean;

Dennisud: Well, get ready for Part 1 of that vengeful saga;

"All right, Ragnok…I'm listening: tell me everything…and, since I swear on my parents' graves that I am innocent of any knowledge of the crimes committed by those I thought I could trust, you can start by telling me how I can make amends for this blatant crime perpetrated by the Weasel…"

As he hissed out the word, Harry sneered, his expression beyond-murderous as he growled…

"No…from now on, you can consider them the Magpie Family…and, trust me, Goblin Chief, if I get away from this today, I will make them all pay!"

Chapter 3: Oh Merlin; We're Fudged

"What do I do? I have to try and…what can I say? This…this can't be…"

CRASH!

Suddenly, Cornelius Fudge jumped out of his skin when a flash of lightning filled his office, startling the Minister and causing him to cry out in alarm as he saw a figure emerge from within the lightning.

When he saw a pair of cool, emerald-green eyes looking at him from under a head of wild, black hair, Fudge's eyes widened, "Harry! What…what an unexpected surprise! What brings you to my office? Please, sit down, dear boy; would you like me to…"

As he placated the boy, Fudge's hand went towards an enchanted relic that would summon the Aurors to his office; before he had a chance to trigger it, however, the relic – a statue of Fudge himself, of all things – suddenly shattered and disintegrated, before Harry's ice-cold voice cut through the alarm, disbelief and slight rage felt by the Minister of Magic.

"No help's coming for you this time, Minister!"

The sarcasm in the last word was more than obvious, while Harry also sneered as he drawled, "Nobody's coming to pull your sorry ass out of the fire; nobody's coming to stroke your ego and, most-importantly, nobody is coming to pay you off and make sure you dance to their tune. Now, until we're done here, you are stuck in here with me…and you will listen to me, understand?"

"Of…of…of course, dear boy," said Fudge, trying to look as welcoming as he always had been with the Boy-Who-Lived, despite the fact his heart was racing faster than a speeding bullet as he asked, "Please…sit down…tell me…how-how can I…how can I HELP you?"

To Fudge's alarm, his cry for help went unheard, earning a scoff from Harry, "So, apparently, you're not only incompetent, corrupt and as lazy as a sloth with narcolepsy. You're also pathetically-naïve and incapable of listening when someone's telling you how pointless it is calling for help, or expecting anybody to come and rescue you."

"H-H-Harry…" stammered Fudge, his face paling further as, behind the cold-eyed Harry, he noticed nobody had heard his cry, much less noticed the blazing lightning that had announced Harry's arrival. They also didn't seem to be paying attention to the fact that their boss was in any sort of peril, much less that their nation's saviour was standing in the room with the man at the top of the food chain.

Harry, on the other hand, shook his head, "Actually, Cornelius, I think you'll find it's Lord Potter now; one, we're not friends and, two, I couldn't trust you as far as the dragons could chew you up and spit you out whole!"

Cornelius blanched: obviously, he'd heard that Harry was in the Tournament now, which also meant he was meant to be treated like he was an adult – which Fudge had already intended to use to his advantage if the little troublemaker went too far…again – but the fact that Harry was aware of his lordship, as well as the fact that, as far as Cornelius had heard – from very reliable sources – the boy was comatose and on his way out because he wouldn't be able to compete in the Tournament.

But the report of the death of the dragon had put that rumour to bed.

And now, Harry was standing in front of him, eyes filled with fire and darkness, confidence and cockiness rolling off of him in spades as he smiled wolfishly before he pressed on, "So, now we've gotten that little bit of information out of the way, Fudge, I have a question to ask you. And, unlike your little pocket-liners and your close, personal friends, the only thing I am offering you in exchange for the truth is the fact that you are actually able to make the right choice when it counts."

"What…what can I…can I do for you, Ha-Lord Potter?" asked Fudge, earning a smirk from Harry.

"I was just wondering," answered Harry, walking right up to the desk, where he laid his hands on the wood panelling on top of the desk as he stared deep into Fudge's eyes as he asked him, "Last summer, when you made your visit to Azkaban Prison…you know? The one that was soon followed by the first ever escape from Azkaban by one Sirius Orion Black…I'm curious: what, exactly, were you doing there, Minister?"

"That…that is none of your…"

Before Fudge could finish, however, his eyes widened in horror when he suddenly felt some-thing slither up over his shoulders, where it proceeded to wrap itself around his neck. To the alarm of the supposed leader of Magical Britain, a dark-scaled snake, which was as large as one of Fudge's hands and as long as an anaconda, suddenly reared its head, staring at him with a cold, dark-eyed gleam, as well as two rows of razor-sharp fangs that dripped with venom as the reptile hissed at the Minister.

"You didn't think I was just going to let you bullshit me again, did you, Fudge?" asked Harry, rising up from the desk as he smiled coldly. "After all, I'm fairly sure the so-called leader of the nation remembers how I happen to be the only living Parselmouth in the country. In fact, I'm also fairly certain that your dear friend, Lucius, has told you of my experiences with this particular breed of snake…one that, with just a hiss from me, will open his eyes and then you, Fudge, will be found wide-eyed, dead as a doornail and looking like you had suffered a heart attack…"

Here, Harry picked up a goblet from Fudge's desk, sniffing at its reddish-coloured contents as he hummed, "Or maybe they'll find evidence that this wine was poisoned and you died that way…let me guess: another generous gift from Lucius?"

Fudge opened his mouth, if only to defend Lucius as he so often did, before the snake coiled around his neck – the Basilisk, Fudge realised with a jolt of horror, from Harry's descriptions of its skills – snarled at him, its fangs now inches from the Minister's face, while Harry set down the goblet before he folded his arms as he stared at the Minister.

"So, now you understand just how serious I am, no puns intended, I'll ask you again: why did you visit Azkaban last year?"

Fudge floundered, but with the snake threatening to end him, and with absolutely no help coming whatsoever, he didn't really have any other choice than to answer Harry – and, for once, he even decided to tell the full truth…well, as far as this little boy would know.

"I was there on a Ministry-sanctioned inspection; as Minister for Magic, the…the upkeep of my prison is…is paramount, so…so any and all threats and…and negatively-driven members are kept away from the public eye."

"I see," said Harry, while the basilisk around Fudge's neck relaxed its grip and backed away, before Harry cocked his head to one side.

"And, while you were there, why did you give Sirius Black your paper?"

"He…he said he was…was interested in the crossword," replied Fudge, earning a snort from Harry.

"Right…and I borrow magazines with naked girls in them for the articles on makeup; tell me, did anyone ever give over a paper before then?"

Fudge's eyes widened, while Harry pressed on, "Also, if this was a Ministry-sanctioned inspection, as you so claimed, why didn't you attend the inspection with Aurors keeping you safe from the prisoners? Or with one of the relics I know can repel Dementors, even if only temporarily."

"Well, you see…" Fudge began, but the basilisk tightened its grip on him, while Harry waggled his finger.

"No, Cornelius, I told you: I'm going to talk and you're going to listen to me; you see, your convenient visit, which just happened to coincide with a picture of the Magpie Family, aka the Weasleys, as you know them, also happened on a whim and led to the first successful, apparently-unaided escape from Azkaban. Then there's how your first reaction was to send the Dementors both to the train, and to Hogwarts, where many children of many witches and wizards, including yours truly and other less-important gnats like Lucius' bastard, were in attendance."

"Luciu…urk!" Fudge gasped as the snake tightened its hold on him so much that he was forced to choke on his own words.

Harry, however, kept going as though he hadn't noticed, "Then we also have you believing the word of a guy who'd be more likely to declare the death of Sirius, myself and even Remus Lupin as a national holiday or three. You have a guy who has more black marks against his name for his sorry excuse for teaching, amongst other reasons, act as evidence to the guilt of Sirius Black when, not too long before, you yourself were told, by the supposedly-professional Head of Gryffindor that Sirius was, and remains to this day, my godfather!"

As Fudge paled, as well as turned blue from the strength of the basilisk strangling the air out of him, Harry sighed deeply, gesturing once to the snake, who released him from its coils, as Harry went on, "Now, I don't know if you're just incapable of remembering, or you suffer from early onset Alzheimer's Disease or some magical form of Dementia, but…on the other hand, I've got a theory for you…and if you're going to be a good little corrupt magpie-minded prat, I'll share it with you…ready?"

"Y-Y-Yes…" coughed Fudge, again wondering how it was that Potter was even able to be so powerful, much less confident and not attract attention from those who were supposed to be looking out for their dearly-beloved Minister.

"Okie-dokie," said Harry, snapping his fingers, which conjured a comfortable-looking armchair, which he sank into, but the basilisk didn't move from Fudge's neck as Harry steepled his fingers, his green eyes shining brightly as he stared down the Minister.

"Here's my theory, Cornelius: I suspect that you attended Azkaban, claiming it as a Ministry-sanctioned inspection because you received a nice little incentive bonus to your wages…say, 150,000 Galleons' worth, okay?"

"Now see…"

A second snap of Harry's fingers fused Fudge's lips shut, while the basilisk's body now seemed to grow large enough to wrap around both of Fudge's wrists as he was forced to squirm helplessly, still unable to believe nobody was aware of what was going on, much less how he was being threatened by such an evil little bastard.

Harry, meanwhile, checked the nails of his left hand before he pressed on, "As I was saying, you were given this nice little incentive to go to Azkaban with an advanced copy of the Daily Prophet, and I say advance copy because I didn't even get my copy until Sirius was already declared a dangerous criminal in the Muggle World…but I digress. Once you'd accidentally flashed a picture in Sirius' face, you handed him the crossword before you turned and got the heck out of Dodge, since your job was done."

Fudge squealed behind his muzzled mouth, while Harry licked his lips as he continued, "You were then convinced, with a little help from another 150,000 Galleons, to arrange for Dementors to be stationed at Hogwarts, including ordering, or perhaps allowing, one to attack the train, so that my little aversion to those dark spectres became public knowledge, furthering plunging me into yet another year of infamy because of the constant stream of attacks; odd that they only came for me, and not someone who doesn't know what a bad day is, like say Lucius' little ferret…but, anyway, as I was saying, with another payday down, you sat pretty in your ivory tower and let things happen."

Here, Harry kicked his legs up, so they rested on the Minister's desk as he went on, "But then, during a seemingly-ordinary little visit to Hogsmeade, checking on security because of complaints from the village's inhabitants, you learned that Sirius was, and still is, my godfather, and you panicked!"

Fudge tried to say something, but Harry scoffed, "Why would you panic? Simple, Fudge: you knew, being raised by our lot as you were, that being a godfather, as you knew from Lucius' intimate relationship with his greasy-haired boyfriend, meant that certain vows had to be made, as well as how certain promises were to be kept and, above all else, no harm done in any way, shape or form to one's charge, aka the godson or goddaughter."

Running a hand through his hair, Harry quickly continued, "So, when you heard, most-likely from a reliable source during your convenient visit to see another innocent executed, just because Lucius' bastard can't follow instructions, how Sirius was there, you made sure every Dementor in Azkaban, more or less, came hunting for his soul. And when he somehow survived, you found yourself believing Lucius' bed-warmer, Snivellus Snape, simply because you were then given another incentive…like say, 100,000 Galleons' worth?"

Fudge was struggling more violently now, though a quick snap of Parseltongue from Harry, which had the snake edging closer to a certain part of Fudge's anatomy, soon shut him up, while Harry shook his head.

"Oh, at this point in time, while I'm making this pretty simple theory, I should point out that the one who signed and authorised all those transactions, a goblin formerly known as Griphook, was recently executed for high treason and his superior, the noble and really neutral Chief Ragnok, has given me full descriptions of all these transactions, seeing as they came from that Aladdin's Cave otherwise known as the Treasury Vault of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter…and what's my last name, Cornelius?"

Now, a sickly smell emanated from Fudge's trousers, earning a sickened look from Harry as he moved the snake's head away from the rapidly-darkening area, while Fudge had turned a whole new shade of puce, or perhaps as close to albino-white as it was possible to go.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be going darker-still – at least in eye-colour, as his green eyes were now darkening in their sockets as he glared at Fudge like the cornered rabbit he was – while his voice grew colder-still as he snarled at the Minister. "You ignored due process, breaking not only the law you so nobly claim to uphold, but also ignoring the simplest fact of all: that as my godfather, Sirius could neither endanger my life nor harm a single hair on my head. And, on top of that, here's something else you don't know, Fudge…"

Here, Harry leaned forwards, his voice now so cold that Fudge could have sworn he saw his own breath fly from his nostrils as the boy hissed at him in a menacing voice.

"When he was first sent to Azkaban, Sirius Black never even got a trial when he was accused of his crimes and he was also named in my parents' wills, which I have also seen today, thanks to Chief Ragnok, as both my legal guardian and my adoptive Father!"

Fudge's dark stained trousers grew darker-still, so much so that Harry could swear he saw piss and shit leak through the man's outfit, earning a second sickened look from the vengeful youth, "Now, while he's on the run and you happen to agree to a Kiss-on-sight order that means he still won't get a trial, much less a chance to do what even Bellatrix Le-fucking-strange got to do, meaning face a jury of her peers and go through legal matters, what's this we also find? Yet another glorious transaction…half a million Galleons' worth!"

Fudge flinched violently, while Harry snarled at the Minister with all the fury he could muster, "And for what? To ensure you keep the simple fact that magical law has been broken by me being a fourth Champion, and you get to slip a little notice keeping the wealth and assets owed to me under Griphook's control…or rather, that of his client: Albus Dumbledore! And all the while, you sit back and watch with a satisfied, magpie-minded smile as my life is ruined again by the incompetence of freakishly-driven losers like you and, as far as I'm made aware, I have nobody on my side! Just a smear campaign that may as well paint me to be the next Voldemort, abuse against my name and reputation, even after everything I've done for your ungrateful world, especially that slaughterhouse of a school…and when my life is endangered further-still by the rules, namely the one that says if I don't recover, I lose my magic and die, what do you do? Nothing: no medical aid, no expert opinions on my condition…nothing! And why? Because, conveniently, half my fucking fortune is to be left to Cornelius Fudge, who is to be given the right to decide what happens, as long as it is used for the good of the Ministry!"

Harry was actually shouting now, his body crackling with the magical energies he'd used to penetrate and, apparently, seal the Minister's office.

"But now, Fudge!" snarled the emerald-eyed scion – though, at that moment, his eyes might have been described as black in their irises as he glared daggers at the terrified-looking Minister – his voice edged by a cold sneer and a sibilant hiss as he leered at the insect before him, "All your plans…all your sabotage…all the bullshit you've been fed…you're being forced to choke on it! As for the gold you stole from me, it's all coming back to me and, trust me, given who's now leading the protection of my wealth, it's a hell of a lot more than 900,000 Galleons! On top of that, you are now going to answer for your crimes against not only the honour of my house, but that of my family, and I mean both Potter and Black!"

Fudge squirmed helplessly in his seat.

"And I bet you're asking yourself: why is he telling me all these things? I'm the Minister for Magic, I can just have him arrested on trumped-up charges and sent to Azkaban, right?" asked Harry, sneering amusingly as he shook his head.

"Sorry, Fudge; that isn't going to work this time, nor ever again and, trust me, if you value your waste of a life, the only thing you'll do now is the right thing, but we both know you won't, which is why I have one more question for you, Captain Useless…"

Waving his hand, Harry vanished the basilisk, before he snapped his fingers, returning Fudge's voice to him as he smiled coldly before, raising a hand, he held up three fingers…

Then two…

Then one…

KNOCK-KNOCK!

"Who's there?"

With that, Harry vanished in a blaze of lightning.

Just as the door flew open, admitting the very last person Fudge wanted to see, namely Amelia Bones, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt and a small battalion of Aurors, all of whom were armed to the teeth and looking at him in disgust, betrayal and no small amount of hatred.

Fudge, however, only thought about one thing.

Himself.

"AMELIA! GOOD! YOU HAVE TO HURRY, HARRY POTTER IS…"

"Oscausi," hissed Amelia, firing the spell at Fudge, who fumed as he was, once again, silenced, while the Director of the DMLE looked down her nose at him, all manner of hatred, as well as disbelief flooding her expression as she shook her head.

"For your information, ex-Minister for Magic, Lord Potter is, at this very moment, in conference in Gringotts Bank, where he has kindly had information sent to my office, that of my most-trusted Aurors and the ICW, showing and giving just evidence that allows me to say the following…"

With another flick of her wand, Amelia bound Fudge, before wrapping magic-suppressing cuffs around his wrists, while she smiled victoriously.

"Cornelius Oswald Fudge, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic of Albion, I am arresting you on charges of grand larceny, corruption of the highest order, multiple counts of the perversion of the course of justice, ignoring magical law on multiple occasions, illegal incarcerations of innocent souls and mass endangerment of children through the use and unlawful dispatch of the Dementors of Azkaban! Other charges are sure to follow and, as a start of your penance and punishments, I am to also inform you that your vaults, along with the vaults and assets of Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore and, with no small delight, I don't hasten to add, Dolores Jane Umbitch, all of whom are being summoned to the Ministry to answer for their crimes by means of association."

As Fudge screamed behind his once-more-muffled lips, Amelia hit the last nail in the coffin for the ex-Minister.

"Furthermore, in accordance with the laws of the land, both you and Albus Dumbledore are being stripped of all your ranks and titles until such a time as the whole truth is to come out. And since you have no wealth, nor do your associates, including Dumbledore himself, it gives me no small amount of pleasure to say that your legal council will be handled by the new interim Minister for Magic…me!"

Smiling at the beyond-horrified look on Fudge's face, Amelia turned to Kingsley before she chuckled softly.

"Have Andromeda and Edward Tonks turned up yet, Shack?"

HPDP

Now Fudge knew he was boned.

The Tonks Family loathed every accused name Amelia had given, especially Lucius – though Fudge couldn't understand why – and Dumbledore, but especially Fudge, if only because of the understandable idea he'd had to have that silly little shapeshifting Auror put under a power-dampening charm to make sure she couldn't use her skills to deceive others.

After all, she was Bellatrix Lestrange's niece, not to mention Sirius Black's distant cousin.

She was trouble, and so – admittedly, at Lucius and Dolores' insistence and recommendation – it made sense to have her patrol Azkaban while they hunted for Black, under suppression of her silly little skill.

But her Mother had threatened a lawsuit, aided by her Father – both of whom were legal aides that no witch or wizard wanted to find themselves going up against – and so Fudge had relented, though he'd made sure the silly little girl knew how unimportant she was by having her as security for Arthur Weasley's department, as well as the entrance atrium.

But now…those people were his only way to hold onto his job and, hopefully, throw his subordinates under the bus.

Then he'd deal with Potter, Bones and everyone else who got in his way.

HPDP

"Anything to say, Fudge?" asked Bones, releasing Fudge from his muffled state.

Sneering at her incompetence, and silently vowing to find a way to make her suffer – maybe by having her little niece made Lucius' ward when she was sent to Azkaban for arranging a coup against the Ministry – Fudge opened his mouth.

"I'm glad I did all those things, Amelia: and I'd do them all again. After all, who else but me can make sure you lot remember why you need me?"

Fudge heard his words, but he couldn't believe them.

"And as for corruption? Well, what's a stupid little boy like the Boy-Who-Lived need so much money for, especially once he's dead and I claim my reward for helping send him and his troublemaking godfather to Azkaban, or even Hell, where they belong?"

Amelia's eyes burned with hatred, while Fudge actually smiled a Grinch-like smile as he drove his own final nail into his coffin.

While silently screaming at his own voice for condemning him with his words.

"Why, I don't even think You-Know-Who is really dead, but if he is still alive, I'd make sure to sell each and every one of you out if it meant I got to live a happy life, even at the feet of that murderous man; after all, every great leader needs someone sitting in the seat that makes the decisions while he puts all you worthless freaks in your place!"

"OSCAUSI!"

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the largest Mouth-Sealing Hex cast.

One so large that, by the time he went to trial, Fudge sadly couldn't be questioned.

Though the memory of his confession was enough to have him condemned by everyone there…

HPDP

At that particular time, as Fudge was kissed by a Dementor for his crimes – much to the opposition of many Dark factionists, before they were forced to remember who was in the seat of power now – he caught a brief flash of green from the shadows near the Dementor.

A brief flash that smiled cruelly before he drew a thumb across his throat and waved mockingly at the doomed, magpie-minded ex-Minister.

As Fudge went to Oblivion, he heard a voice echo through his mind, small as it was.

'Don't worry, Fudge…this may be the end for you, but you won't be alone…perhaps next time, in whatever shit-faced life you may find yourself in, you'll remember that famous saying…'

The green flash followed Fudge into eternal damnation, as did the voice of the one who'd sent him there;

'NEVER…tickle…a sleeping dragon…'

Chapter 3 and Harry's quest for vengeance begins with the most-useless of members, but with the old boss booted out, what will Harry do about the new one, and what about his toadying, ferret-faced geriatric backers?

Is this already the end or just the beginning of the wrath of the sleeping dragon tickled-slash-Dark Phoenix of Hogwarts?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: While Fudge goes to Hell, Harry has to deal with oppositions from those who aren't happy that Daddy can't buy him a pony anymore; also, Magpies get given a taste of the new Harry, while said boy also decides to avenge a wrong that nobody knew was even happening…just another sign of how incompetent they all are;

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PORTRAYAL

Amelia Bones – Jemma Redgrave