Treaty - 10

Harry's gaze returned to Voldemort, who reminded him of a cat toying with a helpless mouse before devouring it – or a snake playing with a toad. Since Voldemort's arrival, Harry had been struck by the fact that his scar didn't hurt – not so much as a flicker of pain. He realized that Tom was still using Occlumency to block him, hoping to shield what he was doing. By doing this, however, it meant that Tom didn't realize that Harry was already there.

His thoughts were dragged back to the proceedings when a frightened scream filled the air. Hermione grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin as Wormtail's head emerged from the box. Still dripping with fresh blood, it hovered above the box, vacant eyes staring at a speechless Umbridge.

"I've decided to return your gift. I have no use for weak fools who allow themselves to be captured by school children," Voldemort said, his snakelike nostrils flaring. "Unfortunately for you, this means that your participation is no longer necessary."

Umbridge turned her wide, panicked eyes toward the Dark Lord, gaping like a fish. Despite his hatred of her and everything she'd done, Harry couldn't help feeling a tiny bit sorry for her. He could see the Aurors grasping their wands, still seeking orders to surge and attack. Umbridge's loyal followers – those who were now in charge – suddenly appeared uncertain what to do.

Voldemort's face twisted into a hideous smile – a smile bereft of joy or happiness. It was a truly frightening sight, causing Harry to shudder.

"Fenrir," Voldemort said, caressing his wand with his fingers. "I believe your kind have some issues with the current Minister. Perhaps you'd like to discuss them with her…directly."

Greyback smiled wolfishly, running his long, yellowed fingernails through his whiskers. "Why, yes…that would be quite…delectable."

Umbridge screeched and backed away as Greyback began stalking her. She held her hands in front of her body as if it would somehow shield her. Greyback's pack of angry werewolves began to advance, joining Fenrir on the hunt. Umbridge's panicked face disappeared as she was surrounded by the pack, and Harry saw a smattering of blood hit the wall.

Umbridge's screams acted as the signal for violence to erupt. Several Ministry officials attempted to stop the werewolves' attack, but the Death Eaters struck them down without mercy.

Knowing they were now hopelessly outnumbered, the Aurors still attempted to regain control. They fought valiantly, but the delay had cost them dearly. Some of the witches and wizards in attendance joined in the fight, battling Death Eaters to try and clear a pathway to the blocked exits. The Death Eaters were pitiless, and screams of those suffering under the Cruciatus filled the hall, echoing in the large, open space. The green glow of the Killing Curse flew in all directions.

Voldemort took the podium and began speaking to the masses, oblivious to the chaos around him. Every so often, he'd lazily cast a Killing Curse at anyone who came to close, even those merely seeking shelter.

"As of this moment forward, control of the Ministry now rests with me. Vast, glorious changes are about to take place, elevating our status to where it rightfully belongs," he said. "All of you now answer directly to me."

Charlie once again grasped Harry's arm. "We've got to get out of here. The Portkey will only work outside the wards, so we need to find a way through them."

"What about the rest of the Order?" Hermione asked, panicked.

"We've all got our orders," Charlie said. "They know what to do."