Harry Potter And The Betrayal

"I wouldn't be too sure of who is going to be the victor, if I were you." Harry countered, his gaze never wavering from the snake like face. "You see I have found that I can kill if given sufficient reason, and you, Tommy boy, have given me plenty of reason."

"Don't call me that!" Voldemort hissed, pointing his wand at the young man.

"Why not, it's your name, though not for very much longer." Harry continued, looking unconcerned by the fact that a wand, belonging to an extremely dangerous wizard was pointed at him, by said wizard. "As the phoenix is consumed so shall you be, only unlike the phoenix, you will not be reborn."

As the Order watched uncomprehendingly, deep green fire burst out of Voldemort's eyes and mouth. The body was quickly engulfed in the green flames and reduced to ash, like a phoenix on burning day.

Harry sighed, relieved that Voldemort was no more. He was free. His parents were finally avenged.

"Harry," Ron spoke cautiously to the unmoving figure in the middle of the room, trying to think of something to say that would help him recover their former friendship.

The dark shaggy head turned in his direction, and the expression on his face was anything but pleasant. "Do not ever speak to me again! You and Granger lost that right the day I was arrested. This is the only warning you will receive."

Dumbledore took a step toward the young man in the middle of the room, only to be halted by the glare from the emerald eyes that were peeking out from under the long shaggy bangs.

Harry pushed some of the hair out of his eyes and the Headmaster saw for the first time the streaks of white running through it. "Don't you say a word either, old man. I want nothing from you," Harry's raspy voice sounded very menacing. "As soon as I have my freedom, I am leaving your damned hypocritical world."

Dumbledore started to assure him that there would be a meeting of the full Wizengamot and he would be freed by tomorrow evening, but Harry made a sudden gesture as if throwing something at the floor near the pile of ash that used to be Voldemort.

Fudge appeared in the spot Harry had gestured at, wearing a pin-striped nightshirt and a cap with a little pompom on the end of it. His foot was raised as if he'd been taking a step up when he was brought there. A couple of the order members sniggered at the sight, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Hello Minister Fudge," Harry greeted the man. "Welcome to my little party. Over here, we have the remaining members of the Order and your few surviving Aurors. Scattered around the floor, and through out the passageways of Azkaban, we have the Deatheaters."

The portly little man blanched when he realised who was talking to him and where he was and shouted, "Guards!"

While the threads of magic that bound them to serving the Ministry, were tenuous at best these days, as long as they hadn't been completely broken, those threads would force the Dementors to answer his call.

A feeling of cold and despair began to fill the wardroom and Fudge looked at Potter eagerly, waiting to see the young man faint. He had heard all about the extreme reaction Potter had to Dementors but the boy was standing there looking unconcerned. As soon as the first Dementor reached the doorway, a bright silver orb appeared and raced to engulf it. When it shrank back down the Dementor was no longer there and the orb went out of the room. The people in the room, who were still conscious, saw the silver light flare brightly then shrink and flare then shrink again.

"You shouldn't have done that Minister." Harry's raspy voice chided the terrified man. "By the time my little orb has finished its work, there won't be a Dementor left in Azkaban."

"H-h-h-ow d-d-did y-y-y-you b-b-b-bring me here?" The Minister stuttered.

"I wanted you here." Harry told him simply. "I just wanted to talk to you and have you actually listen, without any of your toadying sycophants around."

"There is nothing you have to say, that I want to hear, Deatheater!" Fudge stated firmly, ignoring for the moment that a very powerful wizard had done the seemingly impossible and apparated him from his bedroom to Azkaban.

"Don't take that tone with me Minister." Harry countered just as firmly. "That pile of ash, you are standing next to, as those awake in this room can attest to, is the former Dark Lord Voldemort. And you could be next, if you don't watch it. After all, at this point, I have nothing to lose."

Fudge looked down and jumped back as he caught sight of the huge pile of ash on the floor. He collided with Dumbledore who had moved closer to try and help smooth things over. It was quite clear that whatever power Trelawney had said Harry would have, he had tapped into and the last thing the ancient wizard wanted to happen was for Harry to reduce the Minister to a pile of ash in a fit of anger. That wouldn't get the boy his freedom.

Realising who he'd backed into, Fudge turned to face the Headmaster and demanded, "What's going on here, Dumbledore?"

"He's not the one you need to ask Minister. I am." Harry told him.

"Then why am I here?" Fudge looked at Potter, unable to read anything from the expression on his face. "Do you intend to kill me too?"

"If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have had to bring you here to do it." Harry told him. "You are here to correct at least two of the mistakes you've made, during your tenure as Minister."

"What mistakes?" Fudge blustered, "I've made no mistakes."