Dolores's Downfall

Dolores Umbridge took a sip of tea and settled back into her pink velvet chair with a self-satisfied sigh. Another rewarding day of torturing students and asserting her power over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Gasing around her pink-walled office, her china kittens meowing peacefully in the background, she could almost forget that foul club meeting (illegally, she might add) somewhere, she was just sure of it. She pursed her wide, thin lips together in disappointment. She was so close, she just needed a few more batches of Veritaserum and one or two more Educational Decrees to root them out.

A knock on the door startled her; she jumped, spilling a few drops of tea on her immaculate fuschia cardigan. Her lips stretched into a displeased grown. She siphoned the drops off with a quick spell. Whoever was standing outside her door would face her wrath.

She took another sip of tea. "Come in," she wisped, putting on a phony smile.

The door opened without a sound.
"Um, ex-excuse me," a high voice whispered, clearly terrified. Ah, it was a student. Very well, much easier to chase away.

"P-professor Umbridge?"

She swivelled around in her chair. It was a first year, by the looks of him, sporting a shock of blond hair and Ravenclaw robes.

Umbridge cleared her throat. "Yes child, what is it?"

"There's a- a dementor on the grounds," he gasped. "Professor Flitwick said to inform you, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

She sputtered. A dementor? In Hogwarts? Potter was behind it, she was sure of it. Who else would have the gall to bring such a dangerous creature to an area where innocent children might be attacked? Aside from herself, of course. But the lying Potter boy had deserved it, and here was proof! Well, it would be proof when she was done with the situation.

"How did this happen?" she demanded. Not waiting for an answer, she stood up and marched out of the classroom.

She followed the boy outside. It was empty, aside from the levitating black figure that she knew to be a dementor. What was it doing there, just floating around? It wasn't trying to Kiss anybody . . .

She sniffed, preparing a happy memory to banish the dementor away. And at that moment, it turned to face her.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wasn't sure why, but the second that it's eyes (or the place where they would be, anyway) met hers, she felt warm all over. Her face felt tingly, and she slowly became aware that she was smiling. She quickly turned around, so she would stop. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel like a lovesick schoolgirl? This was a dementor she was looking at.

She turned back around to try and banish it again. But as she looked upon it, her wand arm fell slowly. As if in a trance, she dropped her wand and felt her feet moving towards this majestic creature.

He seemed to be looking back at her with the same hunger she felt herself.

No, she couldn't. She stopped herself. This was a DEMENTOR, for Merlin's sake! She slowly took a step forward and gasped when he neared her as well.

She resisted the urge to simply run at him. She didn't want to come across as too eager . . .

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He held out his arms in response.

She ran into his arms and hugged him. He was tall and cold and aloof but somehow . . . warm and inviting. He shifted, and she raised her head hopefully.

He leaned down, his rattling, rotting breath blowing softly across her cheek. She closed her eyes bringing her mouth to his.

She felt his lipless mouth force hers wide open. She felt something rising to her throat, exuding warmth, and for a moment she was in pure ecstasy. That was quickly replaced by extraordinary pain as he devoured her soul.

Inside, watching through the windows,ba group of confused, horrified, and gleeful third years watched as the dementor consumed her soul. There was a wild party in the Gryffindor common room that night.