Chapter 19

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Harry wandered the crowded corridors of the ministry alone. He had gotten a hold of himself and gained back his composure. He wasn't here to fulfil his desires. He was here to avenge Sirius and he would do it any cost. Harry ignored the distasteful looks he received from the death eaters bustling through the corridors. He was as displeased with his circumstances as they were with him. Harry was determined not to ask for directions and after a bit of searching found what he had been looking for.

He came to halt in front of a shining mahogany door. The plaque on it read:


Harry hated that name. Reading it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He snapped his fingers and a death eater hesitantly approached him. Voldemort hadn't lied when he had said that he could order people around,

"I want this removed, NOW!"

The death eater made quick work of it. A wave of his wand and the plaque was gone, replaced by one that read,


Harry smirked vindictively at that. He hadn't wanted this but replacing Umbridge gave him the sweetest pleasure. He knew the immense pride that Umbridge had felt due to her post and he wanted to laugh at her face, now that she had been reduced to nothing. Harry vowed that he would make her grovel at his feet.

Harry turned the doorknob and stepped into the office. He felt he had stepped back in time. The room was exactly like Umbridge's office at Hogwarts: Lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered every available surface. The walls bore the same ornamental plates, each featuring a highly coloured, beribboned kitten, gambolling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth.

The overwhelming sensation to destroy everything in this office overcame him. He knew that the death eater, who had removed the plaque was still standing behind him. He didn't care and made his way to the walls as calmly as possible. He was mildly aware of the fact that his hands were shaking with rage. He grabbed the first ornamental plate from the wall and tossed it to the ground. The sound of the plate shattering on the floor, startled the death eater and he stepped back but made no move to leave.

Harry didn't feel himself calming down. Instead his restlessness only grew. He grabbed the next plate and dropped it to the floor. All the other plates met the same fate as the first two. Harry looked down at the floor, littered with the tiny shattered pieces of the plates and didn't feel satiated. He realized that there were three more death eaters now standing at the door and watching him demolish the office. He paid them no heed and continued his onslaught on everything that was even remotely connected to Umbridge

Harry pulled the flowery cloth away from the table, which brought everything from the table, crashing to the ground. He realized that he was panting but that didn't discourage him from grabbing the vases and tossing them to the floor. He stepped over the rubble and pulled away the lace and doilies from the walls. He wanted to rip the pink wallpaper away from the walls with his nails but thought better of it. He knew that he probably looked like a deranged fool at the moment but that didn't matter.

He felt his knees soften and collapsed on the floor. Harry dismissed the death eaters with a wave of his wand and leaned back against the desk. They left and Harry closed his eyes. What was he angry at exactly? Was he really angry at Umbridge or was he angry at himself for losing control with Voldemort earlier? It was mixture of both. Harry looked at his hand, the words that Umbridge had made him carve out there, stood out starkly against his pale skin. He would make her pay. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the desk. The maelstrom of emotions that had been brewing in his chest, finally began to calm down.

Harry didn't know when he had dozed off in that position but he awoke to the sound of a throat clearing. He shook off the sleep and opened his eyes to see Voldemort standing in the doorway and looking around at the wrecked office,

"Is this your way of redecorating?"

Harry rose to his feet and didn't even look at Voldemort. He didn't have the strength to deal with the man right now. When Harry didn't reply Voldemort continued,

"My death eaters came to me, complaining that you were not fit for this job on accounts of mental instability."

Harry laughed humourlessly,

"Why don't you fire me then?"

Voldemort picked up a jagged piece of porcelain from the floor and regarded it as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen,

"Your mental instability is the reason I want you here. I believe that this can cure it."

Harry sighed in frustration. Voldemort was getting under his skin again,

"I don't need your sympathies. I might be crazy but I don't need you to pity me."

Voldemort turned his back to Harry. Harry was back to his bitter, difficult self again. No conversation could get Harry to open up now, not until he was ready to open up. Voldemort finally spoke,

"Are you planning on sleeping here?"

Harry had his arms crossed and was staring at the wall blankly. He didn't want to go back to that prison with Voldemort. He was prepared to sleep here. Voldemort chuckled darkly,

"I am prepared to carry you out of here if you do not wish to walk."

Harry ran that scenario through his mind and closed his eyes. He questioned his sanity when he realized that he didn't find the thought unpleasant. Maybe he really was mentally instable. Harry shook away that thought. It had been a long day, he realized that he was starving and aching for a bed.

Voldemort smirked when he sensed Harry's surrender and stepped out of the room. He experienced a rush of satisfaction when he felt Harry follow him.

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