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 of 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.

“Greetings fellow w-w-wizards,” Dudley, said, his voice wavering. “I was raised with one of you – but I was taught to fear you.” Dudley paused, most likely because he was stuck on a word, but he appeared to enjoy the reaction and stretched the moment out longer. “I was told that you were all abnormal – freaks – and made to believe that everything magical was meant to harm me. I was wrong. My family was misled.”

Dudley’s frustration with the parchment and what was written finally overcame him, and he crumpled it. Dolores’s face registered alarm when Dudley tossed it to the ground.

Harry shook his head, clearly seeing why Dolores would have gone after Dudley once she realized the magical register had been obscured. Her reasons for using him were twofold. First, she could strip Harry’s strong public appeal by supplying a new “hero,” and this time, she’d found one she could control. Manipulating Harry’s blood connection to Dudley was a win-win for her.

“Look. I’m magic just like you. From what she tells me,” Dudley said, jerking his thumb in Umbridge’s direction, “I’ve got a lot of power. My folks were afraid of magic until they realized how special it made me. We’ve been threatened so many times, we thought—”

“Yes, and we all owe you an apology for that, Mr. Dursley,” Umbridge said, swiftly moving Dudley behind her. “Your family never should have been made to fear your gift.”

Harry could see Aunt Petunia dab her eyes, staring adoringly at her little popkin, who took up half the stage with his wide girth. Even Uncle Vernon had managed to maintain a stiff upper lip around all the magical folk. He proudly stuck his chest out and clapped Dudley on the back.

Late last evening on a quiet street in Surrey, a gruesome discovery was made. Vernon and Petunia Dursley were found dead in their home. Both victims were found seated at their kitchen table, but a source close to the investigation tells us no cause of death is readily apparent. Both victims had been in relatively good health, although Mr. Dursley suffered from high blood pressure and a dangerous cholesterol level. Still, this wouldn't explain how both victims died at the same time with no obvious sign of foul play.

The doors to their house on Privet Drive remained locked, and there was no sign of forced entry. The Dursleys are survived by one son, Dudley, who was unavailable for comment, although one neighbor claimed to have seen him in the area on the day of his parents' mysterious deaths. The source tells this reporter that the strangest thing about the case is the expression of terror on both victims' faces. The source claimed it was as if they'd been frightened to death…