The dimly lit basement of Voldemart hummed with dark energy. Shelves stacked high with cursed objects, magical malware, and cauldrons bubbling with ominous, sickly-green concoctions surrounded the space. In the center stood Carol Voldemort, pacing slowly in her new "casual evil" ensemble—a tight leather skirt paired with a dramatic witch’s cape embroidered with silver serpents. Around her, the Death Eaters sat at a stone table, munching on Pringles and squabbling over who had the best wand technique.

“Now that Potter’s in the Ministry, this is our chance to destroy it from within,” Carol hissed, her wand tapping against her palm like a metronome. “Everyone knows he’s an absolute nincompoop. So when he leaves a chimney unprotected, giving us a way in, no one will suspect a thing. But first, we need to get him under our control.”

The Death Eaters nodded eagerly. Bellatrix, twirling her wand clumsily, giggled maniacally, crumbs falling from her mouth. “How about we send him a cursed broomstick? Make him fly straight into a muddy bog! Splat—Potter face-first in the muck!”

Carol stopped her pacing to glare at her. “As entertaining as Potter covered in mud would be, we need him in the Ministry. That’s where we can cause real chaos. Imagine—if we curse their files, quills, desks—we’ll throw the whole place into disarray. They’ll be too busy cleaning up our hexes to stop us. All we need is for Potter to leave one chimney unsecured, and we’re in.”

Bellatrix paused, unsure whether she should laugh or applaud. She settled for a hasty, awkward clap.

“I don’t mean to question you, Dark Lady,” Lucius Malfoy said cautiously, picking at a single Pringle like it might be cursed, “but how exactly do we... get Potter to do our bidding? He’s not exactly the sharpest wand on the rack, is he?”

Carol’s eyes narrowed as she turned dramatically, her cape swishing behind her. “Oh, we’re not going to threaten him. We’re going to use... seduction.”

The room fell silent. The Death Eaters exchanged bewildered looks, each one more clueless than the next.

“Seduction, my Lady?” Yaxley blurted out, eyes wide as if the concept alone could hex him. “Is that... wise?”

“Oh, it’s more than wise,” Carol purred, circling the table. “We’ve been telepathically linked for years. He can’t resist me when I flaunt my... enticing qualities.” She gestured to her leather skirt with a flourish. “I’ll lure him out. Then, while he’s distracted, we’ll curse him. He’ll open the chimney, and we’ll slip into the Ministry to unleash our dark magick.”

Lucius cleared his throat. “And by ‘enticing qualities,’ you mean...”

Carol cut him off with a glare that could burn parchment. “My power, you imbecile. He’s weak, Malfoy. Easily led. One glance, one suggestive ‘accidental’ encounter, and he’ll be ripe for manipulation. We’ll curse him, send him back, and get him to run little errands for us on the inside. Then, when he lets us in, we’ll strike.”

The Death Eaters obediently nodded, although a few looked confused. Nott leaned over to Bellatrix, whispering, “I thought we were going to do something with cursed muffins?”

Bellatrix swatted him. “Shut up, Nott.”

Carol surveyed her minions. “I will meet him, looking like this.” She spun, showing off her dramatic ensemble with deadly precision. The Death Eaters, not daring to make eye contact, clapped hurriedly.

“Brilliant, My Lady!” Crabbe chimed in, nearly choking on a Pringle.

“I’ll bet he won’t be able to look away,” Goyle added, nodding enthusiastically. “Especially with those... serpents on your cape. Very... powerful.”

Lucius couldn’t help himself. “If I may, Dark Lady, perhaps a touch less... leather? It’s rather... intense.”

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“Silence, Malfoy!” Carol snapped, her wand pointed directly at him. “I look fabulous.”

The Death Eaters instantly went back to nodding fervently, each trying harder than the next to look like they absolutely agreed. One or two even managed to mouth "fabulous" under their breath.

As Carol strode toward the door, her minions hurriedly scrambled after her. “Get everything in place,” she commanded. “The moment Potter leaves the Ministry with his mind muddled and his guard down, we’ll cast the curse. And then we’ll have him open the way for us, and once inside... the Ministry will fall.”

The Death Eaters filed out in chaos, tripping over their cloaks and bickering over who got to carry the cursed objects. Carol Voldemort simply smiled, a gleam of wickedness in her eyes. Potter wouldn’t know what hit him.

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Meanwhile, at the Ministry…

Gary Potter sat nervously in the sterile, overly bright waiting room of the Ministry’s Counseling Office for Troubled Wizards. Across from him, a half-transfigured toad was croaking miserably from a chair, seemingly also there for a session. Gary fidgeted with his wand, glancing toward the receptionist.

“So, uh... this is the counseling for wizards? For, you know, dark magic stuff?” Gary asked awkwardly.

The receptionist barely looked up from her Witch Weekly. “Yep.”

“For... issues with Voldemort?”

“Yep.”

Gary slumped back in his chair, groaning. The thought of opening up about his “Voldemort problem” to a shrink felt far worse than any duel. What was he supposed to say? “Hi, I’m Gary, and I keep accidentally staring at Voldemort’s legs?”

Before he could spiral further, the door to the counselor’s office opened. “Gary Potter?”

Gary gulped. “That’s me.”

Inside the office, Dr. Oswald Coop—slicked-back hair, judgmental scowl, and an air of superiority—greeted him with a clipboard in hand. The motivational posters on the wall, “A Calm Mind Leads to Better Magic,” did little to reassure him.

“So, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Coop began, glancing over his notes. “You’ve been sent here on Ministry orders. There are concerns regarding your... interactions with dark forces.”

Gary rolled his eyes. “You mean they think I’m obsessed with Voldemort. That’s absurd. She’s a—” he hesitated, “—ruthless maniac! I’m trying to stop her, not... I dunno, take fashion tips.”

Dr. Coop raised an eyebrow. “Your file mentions telepathic links, frequent run-ins at Voldemart, and... an embarrassing collection of Witch Weekly.”

Gary’s face flushed. “They did one profile on her, and now I’m labeled with a ‘skirt obsession.’”

Dr. Coop scribbled on his clipboard. “Mr. Potter, admitting these... interests is the first step toward healing. Perhaps it’s not just about the skirts. It’s about control—about power. You find her allure... compelling, don’t you?”

“Compelling?” Gary balked. “Are you mental? Voldemort tried to take over the world by turning Muggle politicians into toads. You think I’m attracted to that?”

Dr. Coop adjusted his glasses. “Interesting. She offers excitement that Ministry life lacks, doesn’t she? And she does have rather long legs? Slender legs?”

Gary groaned. “Don’t be absurd. She’s not offering me anything! The Ministry just thinks I’m some kind of liability.”

Dr. Coop leaned forward. “Mr. Potter, you’ve been at the center of several... chaotic incidents. Perhaps a part of you... thrives on chaos?”

Gary snorted. “The most chaotic thing I’ve done recently is accidentally misfile a broom report under ‘Potions Emergencies.’ They’ve got me chasing up broom parking fines! Does that sound like chaos to you?”

Coop scribbled more notes. “And yet, you’ve been sent here for... compulsive tendencies?”

Gary shot up defensively. “Is this about the ice cream thing? That guy was a jerk!”

Coop chuckled. “Interesting. You confronted him instead of avoiding the situation—opposite behavior to your norm.”

Gary slumped back in the chair. “Yeah, because my life’s been one long disaster. I figured, why not try the opposite?”

Coop’s eyes lit up. “The Opposite Strategy. Fascinating. Has it worked?”

Gary sighed. “For half a day. Then I turned down a job with the Holyhead Harpies, told my boss to take a vacation, and now I’m in broomstick inventory.”

Coop nodded. “And yet, you still follow this approach. Perhaps deep down, you... enjoy shaking things up?”

Gary groaned. “I just thought if I did the opposite, things would go right for once.”

The enchanted cuckoo clock chimed, signaling the end of the session. Coop stood, offering a small smile. “We’ll continue next time, Mr. Potter. I sense... a deep fixation that requires unraveling. I want you to take the time to really think next time you connect with Voldemort, what about her do you find so attractive? You need to really question why you feel these compulsions, Potter.”

As Gary left, Dr. Coop called after him, “Remember, Mr. Potter—it’s okay to be vulnerable.”

Gary mumbled under his breath. “Maybe the opposite of being vulnerable is not coming back.”

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Back in Voldemart's Basement…

Carol Voldemort paced in front of her Death Eaters, who were trying their best not to look too closely at her leather microskirt and stockings.

“Soon, Potter will be under my control,” Voldemort declared, twirling her wand. “He’ll have no choice but to follow me.”