Re:HP-A New Life

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter Twenty-One: A Reckoning in the Dark

Dolores Umbridge returned to her home after another long, grueling day at the Ministry. The corridors of power were bustling with whispers of Lily Potter's new invention and the backlash brewing among the old pureblood factions. It irritated Dolores to no end that someone like Lily, a muggleborn no less, was garnering so much attention.

As she closed the door behind her, the silence of her home enveloped her like a comforting blanket. She sighed, setting her bag down and heading towards the kitchen for tea. But as she passed the hallway leading to her study, a faint noise caught her attention.

Her heart quickened. She paused, pulling out her wand. Quietly, she muttered a spell to check her wards. Nothing. They were intact, as they always were.

Still, the noise persisted—a faint shuffling sound, like papers being rustled. Steeling herself, she walked toward the study, wand at the ready.

The door creaked open, and the sight before her made her blood run cold.

Sitting in her chair, legs propped on her desk, was Harry Potter. He leaned back, a casual smirk on his face as he flipped through a stack of parchment, as though he had every right to be there.

"What—" she sputtered, her grip on her wand tightening. "What are you doing in my home, Potter? How dare you—"

Harry didn't even look up. He turned another page, his expression unreadable. "Dolores Umbridge," he said, his tone almost conversational. "I've always thought of you as a rather useless, incompetent parasite. But this…" He gestured to the parchment in his hand. "This draft of anti-werewolf legislation? It's... impressive. Evil, of course, but impressive. Fullproof, even. Makes it impossible for werewolves to get jobs, attend school, or even live without constant fear."

Her face flushed with indignation, but before she could respond, Harry continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "It's almost... inspired. I suppose greed and ambition can be great motivators, even for someone like you."

Umbridge's patience snapped. "How dare you speak to me like that?" she shrieked, raising her wand. She fired a curse directly at him.

But before it could reach him, one of her precious decorative cat plates on the wall leapt into the line of fire, shattering into pieces.

The loss of her beloved plate enraged her further. "You vile, insolent brat!" she screamed, unleashing curse after curse. Yet, with each spell, another plate sacrificed itself, shattering into fragments.

Harry remained seated, completely unbothered, watching her with a calm, almost amused expression. When she finally paused, panting with exertion, she was hurled backward by an invisible force. She slammed into the wall, her wand clattering to the floor and flying into Harry's outstretched hand.

He stood slowly, inspecting the wand before tucking it into his robes. "You know," he said, his voice eerily calm, "I quite enjoyed reading that draft. It showed me exactly how far you're willing to go for power." He held up the parchment, now aflame, and watched as it turned to ash.

Umbridge tried to move, but her body felt frozen. Fear settled in her chest as Harry's eyes bore into her.

"But there's something else I'd like to read," he continued, his tone icy. He gestured, and a blood quill flew from one of her desk drawers into his hand.

Her heart sank. "No... no, you can't—"

Harry raised his wand, his voice barely above a whisper as he cast the Imperius Curse. Instantly, she felt the compulsion seize her, forcing her to her desk. Her hand trembled as she gripped the blood quill.

"Write," Harry commanded, his voice low and unforgiving. "Every crime. Every person you've harmed. Every ounce of blood on your hands. I want it all."

Tears streamed down her face as the quill moved against her will, carving her confessions into the parchment. Each word burned, both on the page and on her skin, as the quill tore into her flesh.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as the list grew longer and longer. Harry watched, impassive, as she documented her corruption, her cruelty, her betrayals.

Finally, when her hand could no longer hold the quill, she collapsed onto the desk, trembling. She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Please... have mercy…"

Harry leaned down, his expression as cold as the grave. "Mercy?" he repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. "You didn't show mercy to the children you tortured. Or the families you destroyed."

She realized then, with chilling certainty, that she would not leave this room alive.

The night ended with the sound of her sobbing echoing in the study as Harry turned and walked out, leaving her to face the consequences of her deeds.