Chapter 38 The Second War Begins

HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS

'In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is once more active.

'"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord--well, you know who I mean--is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord-- Thingy.

'"We urge the magician population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month."

'The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more."

'Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening.

'Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for comment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for afresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the "Boy Who Lived"--'

'There you are, Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow,' said Hermione, looking over the top of the paper at him.

They were in the hospital wing. Harry was sitting on the end of Ron's bed and they were both listening to Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet.Ginny, whose ankle had been mended in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, was curled up at the foot of Hermione's bed; Neville, whose nose had likewise been returned to its normal size and shape, was in a chair between the two beds; and Luna, who had dropped in to visit, clutching the latest edition of The Quibbler, was reading the magazine upside-down and apparently not taking in a word Hermione was saying.

'He's the "boy who lived" again now, though, isn't he?' said Ron darkly. 'Not such a deluded show-off any more, eh?'

He helped himself to a handful of Chocolate Frogs from the immense pile on his bedside cabinet, threw a few to Harry, Ginny and Neville and ripped off the wrapper of his own with his teeth. There were still deep welts on his forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him. According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction there seemed to have been some improvement.

'Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Harry,' said Hermione, scanning down the article. '"A lone voice of truth ... perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story ... forced to bear ridicule and slander ..."Hmmm,' she said, frowning, 'I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering in the Prophet ...'

She winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs. The curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had he been able to say the incantation aloud, had nevertheless caused, in Madam Pomfrey's words, 'quite enough damage to be going on with'. Hermione was having to take ten different types of potion every day, was improving greatly, and was already bored with the hospital wing.

'You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to Jour, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter, page nine ...Well,' said Hermione, folding up the newspaper and throwing it aside, 'it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago ...'

'Daddy sold it to them,' said Luna vaguely, turning a page of The Quibbler.'He got a very good price for it, too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer to see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.'

'Hermione seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said, That sounds lovely.'

Ginny caught Harry's eye and looked away quickly, grinning.

'So, anyway,' said Hermione, sitting up a little straighter and wincing again, 'what's going on in school?'

'Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp,' said Ginny, 'he did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off--'

'Why?' said Hermione, looking startled.

'Oh, he just says it was a really good bit of magic,' said Ginny, shrugging.

'I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George,' said Ron, through a mouthful of chocolate. 'They sent me all these, you know,' he told Harry, pointing at the small mountain of Frogs beside him. 'Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?'

Hermione looked rather disapproving and asked, 'So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?'

'Yes,' said Neville, 'everything's settled right back to normal.'

'I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?' asked Ron, propping a Chocolate Frog Card featuring Dumbledore against his water jug.

'Not at all,' said Ginny. 'He's really, really miserable, actually ...' She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts ...'

All six of them looked around. Professor Umbridge was lying in a bed opposite them, gazing up at the ceiling. Dumbledore had strode alone into the Forest to rescue her from the centaurs; how he had done it--how he had emerged from the trees supporting Professor Umbridge without so much as a scratch on him--nobody knew, and Umbridge was certainly not telling. Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.

'Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock,' whispered Hermione.

'Sulking, more like,' said Ginny.

'Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this,' said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

'Anything wrong, Professor?' called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door.

'No ... no ...' said Umbridge, sinking back into her pillows. 'No, I must have been dreaming ...'

Hermione and Ginny muffled their laughter in the bedclothes.

'Speaking of centaurs,' said Hermione, when she had recovered a little, 'who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?'

'He's got to,' said Harry, 'the other centaurs won't take him back, will they?'

'It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach,' said Ginny.

'Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good,' said Ron, now munching on his fourteenth Frog. 'Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better ...'

'How can you say that?' Hermione demanded. 'After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?'

Harry's heart began to race. He had not told Ron, Hermione or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Neville had told them it had smashed while Harry was pulling him up the steps in the Death Room and Harry had not yet corrected this impression. He was not ready to see their expressions when he told them that he must be either murderer or victim, there was no other way ...

'It is a pity it broke,' said Hermione quietly, shaking her head.

'Yeah, it is,' said Ron. 'Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either-- where are you going?' he added, looking both surprised and disappointed as Harry stood up.

'Er--Hagrid's,' said Harry. 'You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are.'

'Oh, all right then,' said Ron grumpily, looking out of the dormitory window at the patch of bright blue sky beyond. 'Wish we could come.'

'Say hello to him for us!' called Hermione, as Harry proceeded down the ward. 'And ask him what's happening about ... about his little friend!'

Harry gave a wave of his hand to show he had heard and understood as he left the dormitory.

The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everybody was clearly out in the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of a last few days of term unhampered by revision or homework. Harry walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as he went; he could see people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the lake, accompanied by the giant squid.

He was finding it hard to decide whether he wanted to be with people or not; whenever he was in company he wanted to get away and whenever he was alone he wanted company. He thought he might really go and visit Hagrid, though, as he had not talked to him properly since he'd returned ...

Harry had just descended the last marble step into the Entrance Hall when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Harry knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Harry stopped dead; so did Malfoy and the others. The only sounds were the shouts, laughter and splashes drifting into the Hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Malfoy glanced around--Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers--then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, 'You're dead, Potter.'

Harry raised his eyebrows.

'Funny.' he said, 'you'd think I'd have stopped walking around ...'

Malfoy looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him; he felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage.

'You're going to pay,' said Malfoy, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. 'I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father ...'

'Well, I'm terrified now,' said Harry sarcastically. 'I s'pose Lord Voldemort's just a warm-up act compared to you three--what's the matter?' he added, for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. 'He's a mate of your dad, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?'

'You think you're such a big man, Potter,' said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. 'You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison--'

'I thought I just had,' said Harry.

'The dementors have left Azkaban,' said Malfoy quietly. 'Dad and the others'll be out in no time ...'

'Yeah, I expect they will,' said Harry. 'Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now--'

Malfoy's hand flew towards his wand, but Harry was too quick for him; he had drawn his own wand before Malfoy's fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes.

'Potter!'

The voice rang across the Entrance Hall. Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt towards Malfoy ... whatever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape . . . never ...

'What are you doing, Potter?' said Snape, as coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them.

'I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,' said Harry fiercely.

Snape stared at him.

'Put that wand away at once,' he said curtly. 'Ten points from Gryff--'

Snape looked towards the giant hour-glasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.

'Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hour-glass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to--'

'Add some more?'

Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone, steps into the castle; she was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.

'Professor McGonagall!' said Snape, striding forwards. 'Out of St. Mungo's, I see!'

'Yes, Professor Snape,' said Professor McGonagall. shrugging off her travelling cloak, 'I'm quite as good as new. You two--Crabbe--Goyle--'

She beckoned them forwards imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.

'Here,' said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's, 'take these up to my office for me.'

They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.

'Right then,' said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hourglasses on the wall. 'Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?'

'What?' snapped Snape, though Harry knew he had heard perfectly well. 'Oh--well--I suppose ...'

'So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom and Miss Granger,' said Professor McGonagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor s hour-glass as she spoke. 'Oh--and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose,' she added, and a number of sapphires fell into Ravenclaw's glass. 'Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape--so there we are ...'

A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.

'Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this,' Professor McGonagall continued briskly.

Harry did not need telling twice; he thrust his wand back inside his robes and headed straight for the front doors without another glance at Snape and Malfoy.

The hot sun hit him with a blast as he walked across the lawns towards Hagrid's cabin. Students lying around on the grass sunbathing, talking, reading the Sunday Prophet and eating sweets, looked up at him as he passed; some called out to him, or else waved, clearly eager to show that they, like the Prophet, had decided he was something of a hero. Harry said nothing to any of them. He had no idea how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but he had so far avoided being questioned and preferred to keep it that way.

He thought at first when he knocked on Hagrid's cabin door that he was out, but then Fang came charging around the corner and almost bowled him over with the enthusiasm of his welcome. Hagrid, it transpired, was picking runner beans in his back garden.

'All righ', Harry!' he said, beaming, when Harry approached the fence. 'Come in, come in, we'll have a cup o' dandelion juice ...

'How's things?' Hagrid asked him, as they settled down at his wooden table with a glass apiece of iced juice. 'Yeh--er--feelin' all righ', are yeh?'

Harry knew from the look of concern on Hagrid's face that he was not referring to Harry's physical well-being.

'I'm fine,' Harry said quickly, because he could not bear to discuss the thing that he knew was in Hagrid's mind. 'So, where've you been?'

'Bin hidin' out in the mountains,' said Hagrid. 'Up in a cave, like Sirius did when he--'

Hagrid broke off, cleared his throat gruffly, looked at Harry, and took a long draught of juice.

'Anyway, back now,' he said feebly.

'You--you look better,' said Harry, who was determined to keep the conversation moving away from Sirius.

'Wha?' said Hagrid, raising a massive hand and feeling his face. 'Oh--oh yeah. Well, Grawpy's loads better behaved now, loads. Seemed right pleased ter see me when I got back, ter tell yeh the truth. He's a good lad, really ... Ive bin thinkin abou tryin ter find him a lady friend, actually ...'

Harry would normally have tried to persuade Hagrid out of this idea at once; the prospect of a second giant taking up residence in the Forest, possibly even wilder and more brutal than Grawp, was positively alarming, but somehow Harry could not muster the energy necessary to argue the point. He was starting to wish he was alone again, and with the idea of hastening his departure he took several large gulps of his dandelion juice, half-emptying his glass.

'Ev'ryone knows yeh've bin tellin' the truth now, Harry' said Hagrid softly and unexpectedly. He was watching Harry closely. 'Tha's gotta be better, hasn' it?'

Harry shrugged.

'Look ...' Hagrid leaned towards him across the table, 'I knew Sirius longer 'n yeh did ... he died in battle, an tha's the way he'd've wanted ter go--'

'He didn't want to go at all!' said Harry angrily.

Hagrid bowed his great shaggy head.

'Nah, I don' reckon he did,' he said quietly. 'But still, Harry ... he was never one ter sit aroun' at home an' let other people do the fightin'. He couldn've lived with himself if he hadn' gone ter help--'

Harry leapt up.

'I've got to go and visit Ron and Hermione in the hospital wing,' he said mechanically.

'Oh,' said Hagrid, looking rather upset. 'Oh ... all righ' then, Harry ... take care o' yerself then, an' drop back in if yeh've got a mo ...'

'Yeah ... right ...'

Harry crossed to the door as fast as he could and pulled it open; he was out in the sunshine again before Hagrid had finished saying goodbye, and walking away across the lawn. Once again, people called out to him as he passed. He closed his eyes for a few moments, wishing they would all vanish, that he could open his eyes and find himself alone in the grounds ...

A few days ago, before his exams had finished and he had seen the vision Voldemort had planted in his mind, he would have given almost anything for the wizarding world to know he had been telling the truth, for them to believe that Voldemort was back, and to know that he was neither a liar nor mad. Now, however ...

He walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passers-by behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking ...

Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore. An invisible barrier separated him from the rest of the world. He was--he had always been--a marked man. It was just that he had never really understood what that meant ...

And yet sitting here on the edge of the lake, with the terrible weight of grief dragging at him, with the loss of Sirius so raw and fresh inside, he could not muster any great sense of fear. It was sunny, and the grounds around him were full of laughing people, and even though he felt as distant from them as though he belonged to a different race, it was still very hard to believe as he sat here that his life must include, or end in, murder ...

He sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about his godfather or to remember that it was directly across from here, on the opposite bank, that Sirius had once collapsed trying to fend off a hundred dementors ...

The sun had set before he realised he was cold. He got up and returned to the castle, wiping his face on his sleeve as he went.

Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Hermione kept showing signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make 'hushing' noises every time she mentioned his name. Harry was still not sure whether or not he wanted to talk about his godfather yet; his wishes varied with his mood. He knew one thing, though: unhappy as he felt at the moment, he would greatly miss Hogwarts in a few days' time when he was back at number four, Privet Drive. Even though he now understood exactly why he had to return there every summer, he did not feel any better about it. Indeed, he had never dreaded his return more.

Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed, and chased her gleefully from the premises whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many students ran out into the Entrance Hall to watch her running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain them. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.

Their last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term leaving feast, but Harry had not even started.

'Just do it tomorrow!' said Ron, who was waiting by the door of their dormitory. 'Come on, I'm starving.'

'I won't be long ... look, you go ahead ...'

But when the dormitory door closed behind Ron, Harry made no effort to speed up his packing. The very last thing he wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. He was worried that Dumbledore would make some reference to him in his speech. He was sure to mention Voldemort's return; he had talked to them about it last year, after all ...

Harry pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of his trunk to make way for folded ones and, as he did so, noticed a badly wrapped package lying in a corner of it. He could not think what it was doing there. He bent down, pulled it out from underneath his trainers and examined it.

He realised what it was within seconds. Sirius had given it to him just inside the front door of number twelve Grimmauld Place. 'Use it if you need me, all right?'

Harry sank down on to his bed and unwrapped the package. Out fell a small, square mirror. It looked old; it was certainly dirty. Harry held it up to his face and saw his own reflection looking back at him.

He turned the mirror over. There on the reverse side was a scribbled note from Sirius.

This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.

Harry's heart began to race. He remembered seeing his dead parents in the Mirror of Erised four years ago. He was going to be able to talk to Sirius again, right now, he knew it--

He looked around to make sure there was nobody else there; the dormitory was quite empty. He looked back at the mirror, raised it in front of his face with trembling hands and said, loudly and clearly, 'Sirius.'

His breath misted the surface of the glass. He held the mirror even closer, excitement flooding through him, but the eyes blinking back at him through the fog were definitely his own.

He wiped the mirror clear again and said, so that every syllable rang clearly through the room:

'Sirius Black!'

Nothing happened. The frustrated face looking back out of the mirror was still, definitely, his own ...

Sirius didn't have his mirror on him when he went through the archway, said a small voice in Harry's head. That's why it's not working ...

Harry remained quite still for a moment, then hurled the mirror back into the trunk where it shattered. He had been convinced, for a whole, shining minute, that he was going to see Sirius, talk to him again ...

Disappointment was burning in his throat; he got up and began throwing his things pell-mell into the trunk on top of the broken mirror--

But then an idea struck him ... a better idea than a mirror ... a much bigger, more important idea ... how had he never thought of it before--why had he never asked?

He was sprinting out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase, hitting the walls as he ran and barely noticing; he hurtled across the empty common room, through the portrait hole and off along the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady, who called after him: 'The feast is about to start, you know, you're cutting it very fine!'

But Harry had no intention of going to the feast ...

How could it be that the place was full of ghosts whenever you didn't need one, yet now ...

He ran down staircases and along corridors and met nobody either alive or dead. They were all, clearly, in the Great Hall. Outside his Charms classroom he came to a halt, panting and thinking disconsolately that he would have to wait until later, until after the end of the feast ...

But just as he had given up hope, he saw it--a translucent somebody drifting across the end of the corridor.

'Hey--hey, Nick! NICK!'

The ghost stuck its head back out of the wall, revealing the extravagantly plumed hat and dangerously wobbling head of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

'Good evening,' he said, withdrawing the rest of his body from the solid stone and smiling at Harry. 'I am not the only one who is late, then? Though,' he sighed, 'in a rather different sense, of course ...'

'Nick, can I ask you something?'

A most peculiar expression stole over Nearly Headless Nick's face as he inserted a finger in the stiff ruff at his neck and tugged it a little straighter, apparently to give himself thinking time. He desisted only when his partially severed neck seemed about to give way completely.

'Er--now, Harry?' said Nick, looking discomfited. 'Can't it wait until after the feast?'

'No--Nick-- please,' said Harry, 'I really need to talk to you. Can we go in here?'

Harry opened the door of the nearest classroom and Nearly Headless Nick sighed.

'Oh, very well,' he said, looking resigned. 'I can't pretend I haven't been expecting it.'

Harry was holding the door open for him, but he drifted through the wall instead.

'Expecting what?' Harry asked, as he closed the door.

'You to come and find me,' said Nick, now gliding over to the window and looking out at the darkening grounds. 'It happens, sometimes ... when somebody has suffered a ... loss.'

'Well,' said Harry, refusing to be deflected. 'You were right, I've--I've come to find you.'

Nick said nothing.

'It's--' said Harry, who was finding this more awkward than he had anticipated, 'it's just-- you're dead. But you're still here, aren't you?'

Nick sighed and continued to gaze out at the grounds.

'That's right, isn't it?' Harry urged him. 'You died, but I'm talking to you ... you can walk around Hogwarts and everything, can't you?'

'Yes,' said Nearly Headless Nick quietly, 'I walk and talk, yes.'

'So, you came back, didn't you?' said Harry urgently. 'People can come back, right? As ghosts. They don't have to disappear completely. Well?' he added impatiently, when Nick continued to say nothing.

Nearly Headless Nick hesitated, then said, 'Not everyone can come back as a ghost.'

'What d'you mean?' said Harry quickly.

'Only ... only wizards.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and he almost laughed with relief. 'Well, that's OK then, the person I'm asking about is a wizard. So he can come back, right?'

Nick turned away from the window and looked mournfully at Harry.

'He won't come back.'

'Who?'

'Sirius Black,' said Nick.

'But you did!' said Harry angrily. 'You came back--you're dead and you didn't disappear--'

'Wizards can leave an imprint of themselves upon the earth, to walk palely where their living selves once trod,' said Nick miserably. 'But very few wizards choose that path.'

'Why not?' said Harry. 'Anyway--it doesn't matter--Sirius won't care if it's unusual, he'll come back, I know he will!'

And so strong was his belief, Harry actually turned his head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that he was going to see Sirius, pearly-white and transparent but beaming, walking through it towards him.

'He will not come back,' repeated Nick. 'He will have ... gone on.'

'What d'you mean, "gone on"?' said Harry quickly. 'Gone on where? Listen--what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn't everyone come back? Why isn't this place full of ghosts? Why--?'

'I cannot answer,' said Nick.

'You're dead, aren't you?' said Harry exasperatedly. 'Who can answer better than you?'

'I was afraid of death,' said Nick softly. 'I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't to have ... well, that is neither here nor there ... in fact, I am neither here nor there ...' He gave a small sad chuckle. 'I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries--'

'Don't talk to me about that place!' said Harry fiercely.

'I am sorry not to have been more help,' said Nick gently. 'Well ... well, do excuse me ... the feast, you know ...'

And he left the room, leaving Harry there alone, gazing blankly at the wall through which Nick had disappeared.

Harry felt almost as though he had lost his godfather all over again in losing the hope that he might be able to see or speak to him once more. He walked slowly and miserably back up through the empty castle, wondering whether he would ever feel cheerful again.

He had turned the corner towards the Fat Lady's corridor when he saw somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A second glance showed him it was Luna. There were no good hiding places nearby, she was bound to have heard his footsteps, and in any case, Harry could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

'Hello,' said Luna vaguely, glancing around at him as she stepped back from the notice.

'How come you're not at the feast?' Harry asked.

'Well, I've lost most of my possessions,' said Luna serenely. 'People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs.'

She gestured towards the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, she had pinned a list of all her missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling rose in Harry; an emotion quite different from the anger and grief that had filled him since Sirius's death. It was a few moments before he realised that he was feeling sorry for Luna.

'How come people hide your stuff?' he asked her, frowning.

'Oh ... well ...' she shrugged. 'I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me "Loony" Lovegood, actually.'

Harry looked at her and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully.

'That's no reason for them to take your things,' he said flatly. 'D'you want help finding them?'

'Oh, no,' she said, smiling at him. 'They'll come back, they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway ... why aren't you at the feast?'

Harry shrugged. 'Just didn't feel like it.'

'No,' said Luna, observing him with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. 'I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me.'

Harry nodded curtly, but found that for some reason he did not mind Luna talking about Sirius. He had just remembered that she, too, could see Thestrals.

'Have you ...' he began. 'I mean, who ... has anyone you known ever died?'

'Yes,' said Luna simply, 'my mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry mumbled.

'Yes, it was rather horrible,' said Luna conversationally. 'I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?'

'Er--isn't it?' said Harry uncertainly.

She shook her head in disbelief.

'Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?'

'You mean ...'

'In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them.'

They looked at each other. Luna was smiling slightly. Harry did not know what to say, or to think; Luna believed so many extraordinary things ... yet he had been sure he had heard voices behind the veil, too.

'Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?' he said.

'Oh, no,' said Luna. 'No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up ... it always does in the end ... well, have a nice holiday, Harry.'

'Yeah ... yeah, you too.'

She walked away from him and, as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of DA members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot, had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniform as Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

'I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train,' said Ernie, with some satisfaction, as he watched Malfoy squirm above him. Ernie had never quite got over the indignity of Malfoy docking points from Hufflepuff during his brief spell as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.

'Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though,' said Ron, who had come to investigate the source of the commotion. 'He's loads better-looking now ... anyway, Harry, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything ...'

Harry thanked the others and accompanied Ron back to their compartment, where he bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet again, Ginny was doing a quiz in The Quibbler and Neville was stroking his Mimbulus mimbletonia, which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.

Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet.It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning ...

'It hasn't really started yet,' sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. 'But it won't be long now ...'

'Hey, Harry,' said Ron softly, nodding towards the glass window on to the corridor.

Harry looked around. Cho was passing, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, who was wearing a balaclava. His and Cho's eyes met for a moment. Cho blushed and kept walking. Harry looked back down at the chessboard just in time to see one of his pawns chased off its square by Ron's knight.

'What's--er-- going on with you and her, anyway?' Ron asked quietly.

'Nothing,' said Harry truthfully.

'I--er--heard she's going out with someone else now,' said Hermione tentatively.

Harry was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him; so much of what he had wanted before Sirius's death felt that way these days ... the week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.

'You're well out of it, mate,' said Ron forcefully. 'I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.'

'She's probably cheerful enough with someone else,' said Harry, shrugging.

'Who's she with now, anyway?' Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered.

'Michael Corner,' she said.

'Michael--but-- ' said Ron, craning around in his seat to state at her. 'But you were going out with him!'

'Not any more,' said Ginny resolutely. 'He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead.' She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside-down and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted.

'Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,' he said, prodding his queen forwards towards Harry's quivering castle. 'Good for you. Just choose someone--better--next time.'

He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.

'Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?' asked Ginny vaguely.

'WHAT?' shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead.

As the train slowed down in the approach to King's Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts. When it finally puffed to a standstill, however, he lifted down Hedwig's cage and prepared to drag his trunk from the train as usual.

When the ticket inspector signalled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters.Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

'Ron, Ginny!' called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly. 'Oh, and Harry dear--how are you?'

'Fine,' lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins' new clothes.

'What are they supposed to be?' he asked, pointing at the jackets.

'Finest dragonskin, little bro',' said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. 'Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves.'

'Hello, Harry,' said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione.

'Hi,' said Harry. 'I didn't expect ... what are you all doing here?'

'Well,' said Lupin with a slight smile, 'we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home.'

'I dunno if that's a good idea,' said Harry at once.

'Oh, I think it is,' growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. 'That'll be them, will it, Potter?'

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.

'Ah, Harry!' said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione's parents, who he had just greeted enthusiastically, and who were now taking it in turns to hug Hermione. 'Well-- shall we do it, then?'

'Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,' said Moody.

He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station towards the Dursleys, who were apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group.

'Good afternoon,' said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a halt right in front of him. 'You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley.'

As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys' living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.

'We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry,' said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.

'Yeah,' growled Moody. 'About how he's treated when he's at your place.'

Uncle Vernon's moustache seemed to bristle with indignation. Possibly because the bowler hat gave him the entirely mistaken impression that he was dealing with a kindred spirit, he addressed himself to Moody.

'I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house--'

'I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley,' growled Moody.

'Anyway, that's not the point,' interjected Tonks, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Petunia more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. 'The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry-- '

'--And make no mistake, we'll hear about it,' added Lupin pleasantly.

'Yes,' said Mr Weasley, 'even if you won't let Harry use the felly-tone--'

'Telephone,' whispered Hermione.

'--Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to,' said Moody.

Uncle Vernon swelled ominously. His sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even his fear of this bunch of oddballs.

'Are you threatening me, sir?' he said, so loudly that passers-by actually turned to stare.

'Yes, I am,' said Mad-Eye, who seemed rather pleased that Uncle Vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.

'And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?' barked Uncle Vernon.

'Well ...' said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. 'Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley.'

He turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry.

'So, Potter ... give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along ...'

Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbours would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.

'Bye, then, Potter,' said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

'Take care, Harry,' said Lupin quietly. 'Keep in touch.'

'Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can,' Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.

'We'll see you soon, mate,' said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.

'Really soon, Harry,' said Hermione earnestly. 'We promise.'

Harry nodded. He somehow could not find words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead, he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the station towards the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.

Chapter 37 The Lost Prophecy

Harry's feet hit solid ground; his knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office.

Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the Headmasters absence. The delicate silver instruments stood once more on the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of the picture. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: dawn was approaching.

The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to him. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But he had to think ... there was no escape ...

It was his fault Sirius had died; it was all his fault. If he, Harry, had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, if he had not been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real, if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as Hermione had said, banking on Harry's love of playing the hero ...

It was unbearable, he would not think about it, he could not stand it ... there was a terrible hollow inside him he did not want to feel or examine, a dark hole where Sirius had been, where Sirius had vanished; he did not want to have to be alone with that great, silent space, he could not stand it--

A picture behind him gave a particularly loud grunting snore, and a cool voice said, 'Ah ... Harry Potter ...'

Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he surveyed Harry out of shrewd, narrow eyes.

'And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?' said Phineas eventually. 'This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful Headmaster. Or has Dumbledore sent you here? Oh, don't tell me ...' He gave another shuddering yawn. 'Another message for my worthless great-great-grandson?'

Harry could not speak. Phineas Nigellus did not know that Sirius was dead, but Harry could not tell him. To say it aloud would be to make it final, absolute, irretrievable.

A few more of the portraits had stirred now. Terror of being interrogated made Harry stride across the room and seize the doorknob.

It would not turn. He was shut in.

'I hope this means,' said the corpulent, red-nosed wizard who hung on the wall behind the Headmasters desk, 'that Dumbledore will soon be back among us?'

Harry turned. The wizard was surveying him with great interest. Harry nodded. He tugged again on the doorknob behind his back, but it remained immovable.

'Oh good,' said the wizard. 'It has been very dull without him, very dull indeed.'

He settled himself on the throne-like chair on which he had been painted and smiled benignly upon Harry.

'Dumbledore thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know,' he said comfortably. 'Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem.'

The guilt filling the whole of Harry's chest like some monstrous, weighty parasite, now writhed and squirmed. Harry could not stand this, he could not stand being himself any more ... he had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody, anybody else ...

The empty fireplace burst into emerald green flame, making Harry leap away from the door, staring at the man spinning inside the grate. As Dumbledore's tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls jerked awake, many of them giving cries of welcome.

'Thank you,' said Dumbledore softly.

He did not look at Harry at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of his robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes, whom he placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Fawkes usually stood.

'Well, Harry,' said Dumbledore, finally turning away from the baby bird, 'you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events.'

Harry tried to say, 'Good,' but no sound came out. It seemed to him that Dumbledore was reminding him of the amount of damage he had caused, and although Dumbledore was for once looking at him directly, and although his expression was kindly rather than accusatory, Harry could not bear to meet his eyes.

'Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up,' said Dumbledore. 'Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungos, but it seems she will make a full recovery.'

Harry contented himself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing lighter as the sky outside grew paler. He was sure all the: portraits around the room were listening closely to every word Dumbledore spoke, wondering where Dumbledore and Harry had been, and why there had been injuries.

'I know how you're feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore very quietly.

'No, you don't,' said Harry, and his voice was suddenly loud and strong; white-hot anger leapt inside him; Dumbledore knew nothing about his feelings.

'You see, Dumbledore?' said Phineas Nigellus slyly. 'Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be tragically misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew in their own--'

'That's enough, Phineas,' said Dumbledore.

Harry turned his back on Dumbledore and stared determinedly out of the window. He could see the Quidditch stadium in the distance. Sirius had appeared there once, disguised as the shaggy black dog, so he could watch Harry play ... he had probably come to see whether Harry was as good as James had been ... Harry had never asked him ...

'There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore's voice. 'On the contrary ... the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.'

Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words.

'My greatest strength, is it?' said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. 'You haven't got a clue ... you don't know ...'

'What don't I know?' asked Dumbledore calmly.

It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.

'I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?'

'Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human--'

'THEN--I--DON'T --WANT--TO--BE--HUMAN!' Harry roared, and he seized the delicate silver instrument from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room; it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall. Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, 'Really!'

'I DON'T CARE!' Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. 'I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE--'

He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that, too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.

'You do care,' said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. 'You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.'

'I--DON'T!' Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him, too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside himself.

'Oh, yes, you do,' said Dumbledore, still more calmly. 'You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.'

'YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!' Harry roared. 'YOU--STANDING THERE--YOU--'

But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help; he wanted to run, he wanted to keep running and never look back, he wanted to be somewhere he could not see the clear blue eyes staring at him, that hatefully calm old face. He turned on his heel and ran to the door, seized the doorknob again and wrenched at it.

But the door would not open.

Harry turned back to Dumbledore.

'Let me out,' he said. He was shaking from head to foot.

'No,' said Dumbledore simply.

For a few seconds they stared at each other.

'Let me out,' Harry said again.

'No,' Dumbledore repeated.

'If you don't-- if you keep me in here--if you don't let me--'

'By all means continue destroying my possessions,' said Dumbledore serenely. 'I daresay I have too many.'

He walked around his desk and sat down behind it, watching Harry.

'Let me out,' Harry said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Dumbledore's.

'Not until I have had my say,' said Dumbledore.

'Do you--do you think I want to--do you think I give a--I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!' Harry roared. 'I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!'

'You will,' said Dumbledore steadily. 'Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it.'

'What are you talking--?'

'It is my fault that Sirius died,' said Dumbledore clearly. 'Or should I say, almost entirely my fault--I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone.'

Harry was still standing with his hand on the doorknob but was unaware of it. He was gazing at Dumbledore, hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what he was hearing.

'Please sit down,' said Dumbledore. It was not an order, it was a request.

Harry hesitated, then walked slowly across the room now littered with silver cogs and fragments of wood, and took the seat facing Dumbledore's desk.

'Am I to understand,' said Phineas Nigellus slowly from Harry's left, 'that my great-great-grandson--the last of the Blacks--is dead?'

'Yes, Phineas,' said Dumbledore.

'I don't believe it,' said Phineas brusquely.

Harry turned his head in time to see Phineas marching out of his portrait and knew that he had gone to visit his other painting in Grimmauld Place. He would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Sirius through the house ...

'Harry, I owe you an explanation,' said Dumbledore. 'An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young ... and I seem to have forgotten, lately ...'

The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his lace.

'I guessed, fifteen years ago,' said Dumbledore, 'when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Voldemort.'

'You've told me this before, Professor,' said Harry bluntly. He did not care about being rude. He did not care about anything very much any more.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore apologetically. 'Yes, but you see--it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you rejoined the magical world, that I was correct, and that your scar was giving you warnings when Voldemort was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion.'

'I know,' said Harry wearily.

'And this ability of yours--to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused--has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers.'

Harry did not bother to nod. He knew all of this already.

'More recently,' said Dumbledore, 'I became concerned that Voldemort might realise that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley.'

'Yeah, Snape told me,' Harry muttered.

'Professor Snape, Harry,' Dumbledore corrected him quietly. 'But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?'

Harry looked up. He could see now that Dumbledore looked sad and tired.

'Yeah,' Harry mumbled. 'Yeah, I wondered.'

'You see,' Dumbledore continued, 'I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realised that our relationship was--or had ever been--closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes ...'

Harry remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen in him, ready to strike, in those moments when he and Dumbledore had made eye-contact.

'Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man s mistake ...'

He sighed deeply. Harry was letting the words wash over him. He would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the gaping chasm inside him that was the loss of Sirius; none of it mattered ...

'Sirius told me you felt Voldemort awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of Arthur Weasley's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Voldemort had realised he could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Voldemort's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.'

He paused. Harry watched the sunlight, which was sliding slowly across the polished surface of Dumbledore's desk, illuminate a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. Harry could tell that the portraits all around them were awake and listening raptly to Dumbledore's explanation; he could hear the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Phineas Nigellus had still not returned ...

'Professor Snape discovered,' Dumbledore resumed, 'that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Voldemort, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since he regained his body; and as he dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.

'And then you saw Rookwood, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest, telling Voldemort what we had known all along--that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Voldemort himself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing himself at last--or else you would have to take it for him. It became a matter of even greater urgency that you should master Occlumency.'

'But I didn't,' muttered Harry. He said it aloud to try and ease the dead weight of guilt inside him: a confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure squeezing his heart. 'I didn't practise, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and--Sirius wouldn't--Sirius wouldn't--'

Something was erupting inside Harry's head: a need to justify himself, to explain--

'I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!'

'Kreacher lied,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic.'

'He--he sent me on purpose?'

'Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.'

'How?' said Harry blankly. 'He hasn't been out of Grimmauld Place for years.'

'Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas,' said Dumbledore, 'when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to "get out". He took Sirius at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left ... Black's cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy.'

'How do you know all this?' Harry said. His heart was beating very fast. He felt sick. He remembered worrying about Kreacher's odd absence over Christmas, remembered him turning up again in the attic ...

'Kreacher told me last night,' said Dumbledore. 'You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realised that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place.

'When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once.'

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh and continued, 'Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were at Headquarters when he made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Snape requested that Sirius remain behind, as he needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime he, Professor Snape, intended to search the Forest for you.

'But Sirius did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you. He delegated to Kreacher the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me--laughing fit to burst--where Sirius had gone.'

'He was laughing?' said Harry in a hollow voice.

'Oh, yes,' said Dumbledore. 'You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoy's our whereabouts, or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it.'

'Like what?' said Harry.

'Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, and that you knew where he was--but Kreacher's information made him realise that the one person for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black.'

Harry's lips were cold and numb.

'So ... when I asked Kreacher if Sirius was there last night ...'

'The Malfoy's-- undoubtedly on Voldemort's instructions--had told him he must find a way of keeping Sirius out of the way once you had seen the vision of Sirius being tortured. Then, if you decided to check whether Sirius was at home or not, Kreacher would be able to pretend he was not. Kreacher injured Buckbeak the hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.'

There seemed to be very little air in Harry's lungs; his breathing was quick and shallow.

'And Kreacher told you all this ... and laughed?' he croaked.

'He did not wish to tell me,' said Dumbledore. 'But I am a sufficiently accomplished Legilimens myself to know when I am being lied to and I--persuaded him--to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries.'

'And,' whispered Harry, his hands curled in cold fists on his knees, 'and Hermione kept telling us to be nice to him--'

'She was quite right, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'I warned Sirius when we adopted twelve Grimmauld Place as our Headquarters that Kreacher must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kreacher could be dangerous to us. I do not think Sirius took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kreacher as a being with feelings as acute as a human's--'

'Don't you blame --don't you--talk--about Sirius like--' Harry's breath was constricted, he could not get the words out properly; but the rage that had subsided briefly flared in him again: he would not let Dumbledore criticise Sirius. 'Kreacher's a lying--foul--he deserved--'

'Kreacher is what he has been made by wizards, Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Yes, he is to be pitied. His existence has been as miserable as your friend Dobby's. He was forced to do Sirius's bidding, because Sirius was the last of the family to which he was enslaved, but he felt no true loyalty to him. And whatever Kreacher's faults, it must be admitted that Sirius did nothing to make Kreacher's lot easier--'

'DON'T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!' Harry yelled.

He was on his feet again, furious, ready to fly at Dumbledore, who had plainly not understood Sirius at all, how brave he was, how much he had suffered ...

'What about Snape?' Harry spat. 'You're not talking about him, are you? When I told him Voldemort had Sirius he just sneered at me as usual--'

'Harry you know Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge,' said Dumbledore steadily, 'but as I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest. It was he, too, who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell her Sirius's whereabouts.'

Harry disregarded this; he felt a savage pleasure in blaming Snape, it seemed to be easing his own sense of dreadful guilt, and he wanted to hear Dumbledore agree with him.

'Snape--Snape g --goaded Sirius about staying in the house--he made out Sirius was a coward-- '

'Sirius was much too old and clever to have allowed such feeble taunts to hurt him,' said Dumbledore.

'Snape stopped giving me Occlumency lessons!' Harry snarled. 'He threw me out of his office!'

'I am aware of it,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'I have already said that it was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure, at the time, that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Voldemort while in my presence--'

'Snape made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with him--' Harry remembered Ron's thoughts on the subject and plunged on '--how do you know he wasn't trying to soften me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my-- '

'I trust Severus Snape,' said Dumbledore simply. 'But I forgot--another old man's mistake-- that some wounds run too deep for the healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father--I was wrong.'

'But that's OK, is it?' yelled Harry, ignoring the scandalised faces and disapproving mutterings of the portraits on the walls. 'It's OK for Snape to hate my dad, but it's not OK for Sirius to hate Kreacher?'

'Sirius did not hate Kreacher,' said Dumbledore. 'He regarded him as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike ... the fountain we destroyed tonight told a lie. We wizards have mistreated and abused our fellows for too long, and we are now reaping our reward.'

'SO SIRIUS DESERVED WHAT HE GOT, DID HE?' Harry yelled.

'I did not say that, nor will you ever hear me say it,' Dumbledore replied quietly. 'Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated.'

'Yeah, he did hate it!' said Harry, his voice cracking, turning his back on Dumbledore and walking away. The sun was bright inside the room now and the eyes of all the portraits followed him as he walked, without realising what he was doing, without seeing the office at all. 'You made him stay shut up in that house and he hated it, that's why he wanted to get out last night--'

'I was trying to keep Sirius alive,' said Dumbledore quietly.

'People don't like being locked up!' Harry said furiously, rounding on him. 'You did it to me all last summer--'

Dumbledore closed his eyes and buried his face in his long-fingered hands. Harry watched him, but this uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion, or sadness, or whatever it was from Dumbledore, did not soften him. On the contrary, he felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him.

Dumbledore lowered his hands and surveyed Harry through his half-moon glasses.

'It is time,' he said, 'for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me--to do whatever you like-- when I have finished. I will not stop you.'

Harry glared at him for a moment, then flung himself back into the chair opposite Dumbledore and waited.

Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Harry and said, 'Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well--not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years.'

He paused. Harry said nothing.

'You might ask-- and with good reason--why it had to be so. Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honoured and delighted to raise you as a son.

'My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realised. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters--and many of them are almost as terrible as he--were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone for ever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.

'I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.

'But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated--to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative.'

'She doesn't love me,' said Harry at once. 'She doesn't give a damn--'

'But she took you,' Dumbledore cut across him. 'She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you.'

'I still don't-- '

'While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, whilst you are there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years.'

'Wait,' said Harry. 'Wait a moment.'

He sat up straighter in his chair, staring at Dumbledore.

'You sent that Howler. You told her to remember--it was your voice--'

'I thought,' said Dumbledore, inclining his head slightly, 'that she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the Dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son.'

'It did,' said Harry quietly. 'Well--my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she--she said I had to stay.'

He stared at the floor for a moment, then said, 'But what's this got to do with--'

He could not say Sirius's name.

'Five years ago, then,' continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, 'you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

'And then ... well, you will remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you and sooner--much sooner--than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was ... prouder of you than I can say.

'Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine,' said Dumbledore. 'An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort.'

'I don't understand what you're saying,' said Harry.

'Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?'

Harry nodded.

'Ought I to have told you then?'

Harry stared into the blue eyes and said nothing, but his heart was racing again.

'You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No ... perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age.

'I should have recognised the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognised that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day ... you were too young, much too young.

'And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced; once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark on you. We discussed your scar, oh yes ... we came very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything?

'Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, to have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph ...

'Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid.'

'I don't--'

'I cared about you too much,' said Dumbledore simply. 'I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.

'Is there a defence? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have--and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined--not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands.

'We entered your third year. I watched from afar as you struggled to repel dementors, as you found Sirius, learned what he was and rescued him. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had triumphantly snatched your godfather from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young you might be, but you had proved you were exceptional. My conscience was uneasy, Harry. I knew the time must come soon ...

'But you came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself ... and I did not tell you, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school and I could not bring myself to add another--the greatest one of all.'

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak.

'I still don't understand.'

'Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you.'

The sun had risen fully now: Dumbledore's office was bathed in it. The glass case in which the sword of Godric Gryffindor resided gleamed white and opaque, the fragments of the instruments Harry had thrown to the floor glistened like raindrops, and behind him, the baby Fawkes made soft chirruping noises in his nest of ashes.

'The prophecy's smashed,' Harry said blankly. 'I was pulling Neville up those benches in the-- the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell ...'

'The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly.'

'Who heard it?' asked Harry, though he thought he knew the answer already.

'I did,' said Dumbledore. 'On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.'

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Harry to the black cabinet that stood beside Fawkes's perch. He bent down, slid back a catch and took from inside it the shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges, in which Harry had seen his father tormenting Snape. Dumbledore walked back to the desk, placed the Pensieve upon it, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought clinging to the wand and deposited them into the basin. He sat back down behind his desk and watched his thoughts swirl and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved slowly, her feet in the basin. But when Sybill Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard her use once before:

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...'

The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.

The silence within the office was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry nor any of the portraits made a sound. Even Fawkes had fallen silent.

'Professor Dumbledore?' Harry said very quietly, for Dumbledore, still staring at the Pensieve, seemed completely lost in thought. 'It ... did that mean ... what did that mean?'

'It meant,' said Dumbledore, 'that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times.'

Harry felt as though something was closing in on him. His breathing seemed difficult again.

'It means--me?'

Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses.

'The odd thing, Harry,' he said softly, 'is that it may not have meant you at all. Sybill's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.'

'But then ... but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?'

'The official record was re-labelled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child,' said Dumbledore. 'It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sybill was referring.'

'Then--it might not be me?' said Harry.

'I am afraid,' said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him a great effort, 'that there is no doubt that it is you.'

'But you said-- Neville was born at the end of July, too--and his mum and dad--'

'You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort ... Voldemort himself would mark him as his equal.And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse.'

'But he might have chosen wrong!' said Harry. 'He might have marked the wrong person!'

'He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him,' said Dumbledore. 'And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pure-blood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing) but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far-- something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved.'

'Why did he do it, then?' said Harry, who felt numb and cold. 'Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then--'

'That might, indeed, have been the more practical course,' said Dumbledore, 'except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My--our--one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.'

'So he only heard --?'

'He heard only the beginning, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not--'

'But I don't!' said Harry, in a strangled voice. 'I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or--or kill them --'

'There is a room in the Department of Mysteries,' interrupted Dumbledore, 'that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you.'

Harry closed his eyes. If he had not gone to save Sirius, Sirius would not have died ... More to stave off the moment when he would have to think of Sirius again, Harry asked, without caring much about the answer, 'The end of the prophecy ... it was something about ... neither can live ...'

'... while the other survives,' said Dumbledore.

'So,' said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, 'so does that mean that ... that one of us has got to kill the other one ... in the end?'

'Yes,' said Dumbledore.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black was gone for ever. Sirius seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of Harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found Sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark ...

'I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry,' said Dumbledore hesitantly. 'You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess ... that I rather thought ... you had enough responsibility to be going on with.'

Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.

Chapter 36 The Only One He Ever Feared

'He hasn't gone!' Harry yelled.

He did not believe it; he would not believe it; still he fought Lupin with every bit of strength he had. Lupin did not understand; people hid behind that curtain; Harry had heard them whispering the first time he had entered the room. Sirius was hiding, simply lurking out of sight--

'SIRIUS!' he bellowed. 'SIRIUS!'

'He can't come back, Harry,' said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. 'He can't come back, because he's d--

'HE--IS--NOT-- DEAD!' roared Harry. 'SIRIUS!'

There was movement going on around them, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To Harry it was meaningless noise, the deflected curses flying past them did not matter, nothing mattered except that Lupin should stop pretending that Sirius--who was standing feet from them behind that old curtain--was not going to emerge at any moment, shaking back his dark hair and eager to re-enter the battle.

Lupin dragged Harry away from the dais. Harry still staring at the archway, was angry at Sirius now for keeping him waiting--

But some part of him realised, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before ... Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry to help him ... if Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back ... that he really was--

Dumbledore had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible ropes; Mad-Eye Moody had crawled across the room to where Tonks lay, and was attempting to revive her; behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts and cries--Kingsley had run forward to continue Sirius's duel with Bellatrix.

'Harry?'

Neville had slid down the stone benches one by one to the place where Harry stood. Harry was no longer struggling against Lupin, who maintained a precautionary grip on his arm nevertheless.

'Harry ... I'b really sorry ...' said Neville. His legs were still dancing uncontrollably. 'Was dad man--was Sirius Black a--a friend of yours?'

Harry nodded.

'Here,' said Lupin quietly, and pointing his wand at Neville's legs he said, 'Finite.' The spell was lifted: Neville's legs fell back to the floor and remained still. Lupin's face was pale. 'Let's--let's find the others. Where are they all, Neville?'

Lupin turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain.

'Dey're all back dere,' said Neville. 'A brain addacked Ron bud I dink he's all righd--and Herbione's unconscious, bud we could feel a bulse--'

There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley hit the ground yelling in pain: Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she deflected it; she was halfway up the steps now --

'Harry--no!' cried Lupin, but Harry had already ripped his arm from Lupin's slackened grip.

'SHE KILLED SIRIUS!' bellowed Harry. 'SHE KILLED HIM--I'LL KILL HER!'

And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches; people were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix's robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming ...

She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within: the brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long coloured tentacles, but he shouted, 'Wingardium Leviosa!' and they flew off him up into the air. Slipping and sliding, he ran on towards the door; he leapt over Luna, who was groaning on the floor, past Ginny, who said, 'Harry--what--?', past Ron, who giggled feebly, and Hermione, who was still unconscious. He wrenched open the door into the circular black hall and saw Bellatrix disappearing through a door on the other side of the room; beyond her was the corridor leading back to the lifts.

He ran, but she had slammed the door behind her and the walls were already rotating. Once more, he was surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra.

'Where's the exit?' he shouted desperately, as the wall rumbled to a halt again. 'Where's the way out?'

The room seemed to have been waiting for him to ask. The door right behind him flew open and the corridor towards the lifts stretched ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran ...

He could hear a lift clattering ahead; he sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner and slammed his fist on to the button to call a second lift. It jangled and banged lower and lower; the grilles slid open and Harry dashed inside, now hammering the button marked 'Atrium'. The doors slid shut and he was rising ...

He forced his way out of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Bellatrix was almost at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as he sprinted towards her and aimed another spell at him. He dodged behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren: the spell zoomed past him and hit the wrought-gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps. She had stopped running. He crouched behind the statues, listening.

'Come out, come out, little Harry!' she called in her mock baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. 'What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!'

'I am!' shouted Harry, and a score of ghostly Harry's seemed to chorus I am! I am! I am! all around the room.

'Aaaaaah ... did you love him, little baby Potter?'

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before; he flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed, 'Crucio!'

Bellatrix screamed: the spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had--she was already back on her feet, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again. Her counter-spell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.

'Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?' she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. 'You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain--to enjoy it--righteous anger won't hurt me for long--I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson--'

Harry was edging around the fountain on the other side when she screamed, 'Crucio!' and he was forced to duck down again as the centaur's arm, holding its bow, span off and landed with a crash on the floor a short distance from the golden wizard's head.

'Potter, you cannot win against me!' she cried.

He could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of him. He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur's legs, his head level with the house-elf's.

'I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete-- '

'Stupefy!' yelled Harry. He had edged right around to where the goblin stood beaming up at the now headless wizard and taken aim at her back as she peered around the fountain. She reacted so fast he barely had time to duck.

'Protego!'

The jet of red light, his own Stunning Spell, bounced back at him. Harry scrambled back behind the fountain and one of the goblin's ears went flying across the room.

'Potter, I'm going to give you one chance!' shouted Bellatrix. 'Give me the prophecy--roll it out towards me now--and I may spare your life!'

'Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!' Harry roared and, as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead; his scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage. 'And he knows!' said Harry, with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix's own. 'Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone! He's not going to be happy with you, is he?'

'What? What do you mean?' she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice.

'The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort'll say about that, then?'

His scar seared and burned ... the pain of it was making his eyes stream ...

'LIAR!' she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger now. 'YOU'VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME! Accio prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!'

Harry laughed again because he knew it would incense her, the pain building in his head so badly he thought his skull might burst. He waved his empty hand from behind the one-eared goblin and withdrew it quickly as she sent another jet of green light flying at him.

'Nothing there!' he shouted. 'Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that!'

'No!' she screamed. 'It isn't true, you're lying! MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED--DO NOT PUNISH ME--'

'Don't waste your breath!' yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever. 'He can't hear you from here!'

'Can't I, Potter?' said a high, cold voice.

Harry opened his eyes.

Tall, thin and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring ... Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move.

'So, you smashed my prophecy?' said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. 'No, Bella, he is not lying ... I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind ... months of preparation, months of effort ... and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again ...'

'Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!' sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort's feet as he paced slowly nearer. 'Master, you should know--'

'Be quiet, Bella,' said Voldemort dangerously. 'I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your snivelling apologies?'

'But Master--he is here--he is below--'

Voldemort paid no attention.

'I have nothing more to say to you, Potter,' he said quietly. 'You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!'

Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist; his mind was blank, his wand pointing uselessly at the floor.

But the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth to land with a crash on the floor between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms to protect Harry.

'What--?' cried Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, 'Dumbledore!'

Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates.

Voldemort raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak. Next second, he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand towards the remnants of the fountain. The other statues sprang to life. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled towards the fireplaces set along the wall and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backwards, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both.

'It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'The Aurors are on their way--'

'By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!' spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.

Dumbledore flicked his own wand: the force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his golden guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it--an oddly chilling sound.

'You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?' called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. 'Above such brutality, are you?'

'We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,' Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. 'Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit--'

'There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!' snarled Voldemort.

'You are quite wrong,' said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Harry felt scared to see him walking along, undefended, shieldless; he wanted to cry out a warning, but his headless guard kept shunting him backwards towards the wall, blocking his every attempt to get out from behind it. 'Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness--'

Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold on Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort vanished; the snake reared from the floor, ready to strike--

There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood.

'Look out!' Harry yelled.

But even as he shouted, another jet of green light flew at Dumbledore from Voldemort's wand and the snake struck--

Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide and swallowed the jet of green light whole: he burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one long, fluid movement--the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; and the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass.

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass--

Then he was gone and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor.

'MASTER!' screamed Bellatrix.

Sure it was over, sure Voldemort had decided to flee, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed: 'Stay where you are, Harry!'

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why: the hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix still trapped under the witch statue, and the baby phoenix Fawkes croaking feebly on the floor--'

Then Harry's scar burst open and he knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance--

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creatures began: they were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape--

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move ...

'Kill me now, Dumbledore ...'

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again ...

'If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy ...'

Let the pain stop, thought Harry ... let him kill us ... end it, Dumbledore ... death is nothing compared to this ...

And I'll see Sirius again ...

And as Harry's heart filled with emotion, the creatures coils loosened, the pain was gone; Harry was lying face down on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood ...

And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been ... Harry opened his eyes, saw his glasses lying by the heel of the headless statue that had been guarding him, but which now lay flat on its back, cracked and immobile. He put them on and raised his head a little to find Dumbledore's crooked nose inches from his own.

'Are you all right, Harry?'

'Yes,' said Harry, shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly. 'Yeah, I'm --where's Voldemort, where--who are all these--what's--'

The Atrium was full of people; the floor was reflecting the emerald green flames that had burst into fire in all the fireplaces along one wall; and streams of witches and wizards were emerging from them. As Dumbledore pulled him back to his feet, Harry saw the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin, leading a stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge forward.

'He was there!' shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped only moments before. 'I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!'

'I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!' gibbered Fudge, who was wearing pyjamas under his pinstriped cloak and was gasping as though he had just run miles. 'Merlin's beard--here--here!-- in the Ministry of Magic!--great heavens above--it doesn't seem possible--my word--how can this be--?'

'If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore-- apparently satisfied that Harry was all right, and walking forwards so that the newcomers realised he was there for the first time (a few of them raised their wands; others simply looked amazed; the statues of the elf and goblin applauded and Fudge jumped so much that his slipper-clad feet left the floor)--'you will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparation Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them.'

'Dumbledore!' gasped Fudge, beside himself with amazement. 'You--here--I--I--'

He looked wildly around at the Aurors he had brought with him and it could not have been clearer that he was in half a mind to cry, 'Seize him!'

'Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men--and win, again!' said Dumbledore in a thunderous voice. 'But a few minutes ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong man for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!'

'I--don't--well --' blustered Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do. When nobody did, he said, 'Very well--Dawlish! Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see ... Dumbledore, you--you will need to tell me exactly--the Fountain of Magical Brethren--what happened?' he added in a kind of whimper, staring around at the floor, where the remains of the statues of the witch, wizard and centaur now lay scattered.

'We can discuss that after I have sent Harry back to Hogwarts,' said Dumbledore.

'Harry--Harry Potter?'

Fudge wheeled around and stared at Harry, who was still standing against the wall beside the fallen statue that had guarded him during Dumbledore and Voldemort's duel.

'He--here?' said Fudge, goggling at Harry. 'Why--what's all this about?'

'I shall explain everything,' repeated Dumbledore, 'when Harry is back at school.'

He walked away from the pool to the place where the golden wizard's head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, 'Portus.' The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more.

'Now see here, Dumbledore!' said Fudge, as Dumbledore picked up the head and walked back to Harry carrying it. 'You haven't got authorisation for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister for Magic, you--you--'

His voice faltered as Dumbledore surveyed him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles.

'You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts,' said Dumbledore. 'You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you ...' Dumbledore pulled a watch with twelve hands from his pocket and surveyed it...'half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the Headmaster will find me.'

Fudge goggled worse than ever; his mouth was open and his round face grew pinker under his rumpled grey hair.

'I--you--'

Dumbledore turned his back on him.

'Take this Portkey, Harry.'

He held out the golden head of the statue and Harry placed his hand on it, past caring what he did next or where he went.

'I shall see you in half an hour,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'One ... two ... three ...'

Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath his feet; the Atrium, Fudge and Dumbledore had all disappeared and he was flying forwards in a whirlwind of colour and sound ...

Chapter 35 Beyond the Veil

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts; Ginny gave a gasp of horror.

'To me, Potter,' repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.

Harry's insides plummeted sickeningly. They were trapped, and outnumbered two to one.

'To me,' said Malfoy yet again.

'Where's Sirius?' Harry said.

Several of the Death Eaters laughed; a harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left said triumphantly, 'The Dark Lord always knows!'

'Always,' echoed Malfoy softly. 'Now, give me the prophecy, Potter.'

'I want to know where Sirius is!'

'I want to know where Sirius is!' mimicked the woman to his left.

She and her fellow Death Eaters had closed in so that they were mere feet away from Harry and the others, the light from their wands dazzling Harry's eyes.

'You've got him,' said Harry, ignoring the rising panic in his chest, the dread he had been fighting since they had first entered the ninety-seventh row. 'He's here. I know he is.'

'The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo,' said the woman in a horrible, mock baby voice. Harry felt Ron stir beside him.

'Don't do anything,' Harry muttered. 'Not yet--'

The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter.

'You hear him? You hear him?Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!'

'Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,' said Malfoy softly. 'He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.'

'I know Sirius is here,' said Harry, though panic was causing his chest to constrict and he felt as though he could not breathe properly. 'I know you've got him!'

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman laughed loudest of all.

'It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter,' said Malfoy. 'Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands.'

'Go on, then,' said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna rose on either side of him. The knot in Harry's stomach tightened. If Sirius really was not here, he had led his friends to their deaths for no reason at all ...

But the Death Eaters did not strike.

'Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt,' said Malfoy coolly.

It was Harry's turn to laugh.

'Yeah, right!' he said. 'I give you this--prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?'

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked: 'Accio proph --'

Harry was just ready for her: he shouted 'Protego' before she had finished her spell, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of his fingers he managed to cling on to it.

'Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,' she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. 'Very well, then--'

'I TOLD YOU, NO!' Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. 'If you smash it--!'

Harry's mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, to make sure none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity ...

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow.

'You need more persuasion?' she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. 'Very well--take the smallest one,' she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. 'Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it.'

Harry felt the others close in around Ginny; he stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest.

'You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,' he told Bellatrix. 'I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?'

She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

'So,' said Harry, 'what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?'

He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville's arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking; he could feel one of the others' quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

'What kind of prophecy?' repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. 'You jest, Harry Potter.'

'Nope, not jesting,' said Harry, his eyes flicking from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. 'How come Voldemort wants it?

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

'You dare speak his name?' whispered Bellatrix.

'Yeah,' said Harry, maintaining his tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. 'Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol--

'Shut your mouth!' Bellatrix shrieked. 'You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare--'

'Did you know he's a half-blood too?' said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. 'Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle--or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?'

'STUPEF--'

'NO!'

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered.

Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

'... at the solstice will come a new ...' said the figure of an old, bearded man.

'DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!'

'He dared--he dares--' shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, 'he stands there--filthy half-blood --'

'WAIT UN'I'LL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!' bawled Malfoy.

'... and none will come after ...' said the figure of a young woman.

The two figures that had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but fragments of glass upon the floor. They had, however, given Harry an idea. The problem was going to be conveying it to the others.

'You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over,' he said, playing for time. He moved his foot slowly sideways, feeling around for someone else's.

'Do not play games with us, Potter,' said Malfoy.

'I'm not playing games,' said Harry, half his mind on the conversation, half on his wandering foot. And then he found someone's toes and pressed down upon them. A sharp intake of breath behind him told him they were Hermione's.

'What?' she whispered.

'Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?' Malfoy sneered.

'I--what?' said Harry. And for a moment he quite forgot his plan. 'What about my scar?'

'What?' whispered Hermione more urgently behind him.

'Can this be?' said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, 'Smash shelves--'

'Dumbledore never told you?' Malfoy repeated. 'Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why--'

'--when I say now-- '

'--you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording ...'

'Did he?' said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters. 'So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?'

'Why?' Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. 'Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him.'

'And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?'

'About both of you, Potter, about both of you ... haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?'

Harry stared into the slitted eye-holes through which Malfoy's grey eyes were gleaming. Was this prophecy the reason Harry's parents had died, the reason he carried his lightning-bolt scar? Was the answer to all of this clutched in his hand?

'Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?' he said quietly, gazing at Lucius Malfoy, his fingers tightening over the warm glass sphere in his hand. It was hardly larger than a Snitch and still gritty with dust. 'And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?'

'Get it himself?' shrieked Bellatrix, over a cackle of mad laughter.

'The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?'

'So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?' said Harry. 'Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it--and Bode?'

'Very good, Potter, very good ...' said Malfoy slowly. 'But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell--

'NOW!' yelled Harry.

Five different voices behind him bellowed, 'REDUCTO!' Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor--

'RUN!' Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above. He seized a handful of Hermione's robes and dragged her forwards, holding one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them. A Death Eater lunged forwards through the cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face; they were all yelling, there were cries of pain, and thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres--

Harry found the way ahead clear and saw Ron, Ginny and Luna sprint past him, their arms over their heads; something heavy struck him on the side of the face but he merely ducked his head and sprinted onwards; a hand caught him by the shoulder; he heard Hermione shout, 'Stupefy!' The hand released him at once--

They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and began to sprint in earnest; he could hear footsteps right behind him and Hermione's voice urging Neville on; straight ahead, the door through which they had come was ajar; Harry could see the glittering light of the bell jar; he pelted through the doorway, the prophecy still clutched tight and safe in his hand, and waited for the others to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door behind them--

'Colloportus!' gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

'Where--where are the others?' gasped Harry.

He had thought Ron, Luna and Ginny were ahead of them, that they would be waiting in this room, but there was nobody there.

'They must have gone the wrong way!' whispered Hermione, terror in her face.

'Listen!' whispered Neville.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed; Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar, 'Leave Nott, leave him, I say-- his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organise! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary--Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right--Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead--Macnair and Avery, through here--Rookwood, over there-- Mulciber, come with me!'

'What do we do?' Hermione asked Harry, trembling from head to foot.

'Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start,' said Harry. 'Let's get away from this door.'

They ran as quietly as they could, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching, towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were almost there when Harry heard something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut.

'Stand aside!' said a rough voice. 'Alohomora!'

As the door flew open, Harry, Hermione and Neville dived under desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters' robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.

'They might've run straight through to the hall,' said the rough voice.

'Check under the desks,' said another.

Harry saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend; poking his wand out from under the desk, he shouted, 'STUPEFY!'

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backwards into a grandfather clock and knocked it over; the second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Harry's spell and was pointing his own wand at Hermione, who was crawling out from under the desk to get a better aim.

'Avada--'

Harry launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Neville overturned a desk in his anxiety to help; and pointing his wand wildly at the struggling pair, he cried:

'EXPELLIARMUS!'

Both Harry's and the Death Eater's wands flew out of their hands and soared back towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy; both scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the Death Eater in front, Harry hot on his heels, and Neville bringing up the rear, plainly horrorstruck by what he had done.

'Get out of the way, Harry!' yelled Neville, clearly determined to repair the damage.

Harry flung himself sideways as Neville took aim again and shouted:

'STUPEFY!'

The jet of red light flew right over the Death Eaters shoulder and hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped hour-glasses; the cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, sprang back up on to the wall, fully mended, then fell down again, and shattered--

The Death Eater had snatched up his wand, which lay on the floor beside the glittering bell jar. Harry ducked down behind another desk as the man turned; his mask had slipped so that he couldn't see. He ripped it off with his free hand and shouted: 'STUP--'

'STUPEFY!' screamed Hermione, who had just caught up with them. The jet of red light hit the Death Eater in the middle of his chest: he froze, his arm still raised, his wand fell to the floor with a flatter and he collapsed backwards towards the bell jar. Harry expected to hear a clunk, for the man to hit solid glass and slide off the jar on to the floor, but instead, his head sank through the surface of the bell jar as though it were nothing but a soap bubble and he came to rest, sprawled on his back on the table, with his head lying inside the jar full of glittering wind.

'Accio wand!' cried Hermione. Harry's wand flew from a dark corner into her hand and she threw it to him.

'Thanks,' he said. 'Right, let's get out of--'

'Look out!' said Neville, horrified. He was staring at the Death Eater's head in the bell jar.

All three of them raised their wands again, but none of them struck: they were all gazing, open-mouthed, appalled, at what was happening to the man's head.

It was shrinking very fast, growing balder and balder, the black hair and stubble retracting into his skull; his cheeks becoming smooth, his skull round and covered with a peachlike fuzz ...

A baby's head now sat grotesquely on top of the thick, muscled neck of the Death Eater as he struggled to get up again; but even as they watched, their mouths open, the head began to swell to its previous proportions again; thick black hair was sprouting from the pate and chin ...

'It's Time,' said Hermione in an awestruck voice. 'Time ...'

The Death Eater shook his ugly head again, trying to clear it, but before he could pull himself together it began to shrink back to babyhood once more ...

There was a shout from a room nearby, then a crash and a scream.

'RON?' Harry yelled, turning quickly from the monstrous transformation taking place before them. 'GINNY? LUNA?'

'Harry!' Hermione screamed.

The Death Eater had pulled his head out of the bell jar. His appearance was utterly bizarre, his tiny baby's head bawling loudly while his thick arms flailed dangerously in all directions, narrowly missing Harry, who had ducked. Harry raised his wand but to his amazement Hermione seized his arm.

'You can't hurt a baby!'

There was no time to argue the point; Harry could hear more footsteps growing louder from the Hall of Prophecy and knew, too late, that he ought not to have shouted and given away their position.

'Come on!' he said, and leaving the ugly baby-headed Death Eater staggering behind them they took off for the door that stood open at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway.

They had run halfway towards it when Harry saw through the open door two more Death Eaters running across the black room towards them; veering left, he burst instead into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind them.

'Collo--' began Hermione, but before she could complete the spell the door had burst open and the two Death Eaters had come hurtling inside.

With a cry of triumph, both yelled:

'IMPEDIMENTA!'

Harry, Hermione and Neville were all knocked backwards off their feet; Neville was thrown over the desk and disappeared from view; Hermione smashed into a bookcase and was promptly deluged in a cascade of heavy books; the back of Harry's head slammed into the stone wall behind him, tiny lights burst in front of his eyes and for a moment he was too dizzy and bewildered to react.

'WE'VE GOT HIM!' yelled the Death Eater nearest Harry. 'IN AN OFFICE OFF--'

'Silencio!' cried Hermione and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.

'Petrificus Totalus!' shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

'Well done, Ha--'

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Hermione's chest. She gave a tiny 'Oh!' as though of surprise and crumpled on to the floor, where she lay motionless.

'HERMIONE!'

Harry fell to his knees beside her as Neville crawled rapidly towards her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked out hard at Neville's head as he emerged--his foot broke Neville's wand in two and connected with his face. Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose. Harry twisted around, his own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand directly at Harry, who recognised the long, pale, twisted face from the Daily Prophet:Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts.

Dolohov grinned. With his free hand, he pointed from the prophecy still clutched in Harry's hand, to himself, then at Hermione. Though he could no longer speak, his meaning could not have been clearer. Give me the prophecy, or you get the same as her ...

'Like you won't kill us all anyway, the moment I hand it over!' said Harry.

A whine of panic inside his head was preventing him thinking properly: he had one hand on Hermione's shoulder, which was still warm, yet did not dare look at her properly. Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead ...

'Whaddever you do, Harry,' said Neville fiercely from under the desk, lowering his hands to show a clearly broken nose and blood pouring down his mouth and chin, 'don'd gib it to him!'

Then there was a crash outside the door and Dolohov looked over his shoulder--the baby-headed Death Eater had appeared in the doorway, his head bawling, his great fists still flailing uncontrollably at everything around him. Harry seized his chance:

'PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!'

The spell hit Dolohov before he could block it and he toppled forwards across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch.

'Hermione,' Harry said at once, shaking her as the baby-headed Death Eater blundered out of sight again. 'Hermione, wake up ...'

'Whaddid he do to her?' said Neville, crawling out from under the desk to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from his rapidly swelling nose.

'I dunno ...'

Neville groped for Hermione's wrist.

'Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is.'

Such a powerful wave of relief swept through Harry that for a moment he felt light-headed.

'She's alive?'

'Yeah, I dink so.'

There was a pause in which Harry listened hard for the sound of more footsteps, but all he could hear were the whimpers and blunderings of the baby-headed Death Eater in the next room.

'Neville, we're not far from the exit,' Harry whispered, 'we're right next to that circular room ... if we can just get you across it and find the right door before any more Death Eaters come, I'll bet you can get Hermione up the corridor and into the lift ... then you could find someone ... raise the alarm ...'

'And whad are you going do do?' said Neville, mopping his bleeding nose with his sleeve and frowning at Harry.

'I've got to find the others,' said Harry.

'Well, I'b going do find dem wid you,' said Neville firmly.

'But Hermione--'

'We'll dake her wid us,' said Neville firmly. 'I'll carry her--you're bedder at fighding dem dan I ab--

He stood up and seized one of Hermione's arms, glaring at Harry, who hesitated, then grabbed the other and helped hoist Hermione's limp form over Neville's shoulders.

'Wait,' said Harry, snatching up Hermione's wand from the floor and shoving it into Neville's hand, 'you'd better take this.'

Neville kicked aside the broken fragments of his own wand as they walked slowly towards the door.

'My gran's going do kill be,' said Neville thickly, blood spattering from his nose as he spoke, 'dat was by dad's old wand.'

Harry stuck his head out of the door and looked around cautiously. The baby-headed Death Eater was screaming and banging into things, toppling grandfather clocks and overturning desks, bawling and confused, while the glass-fronted cabinet that Harry now suspected had contained Time-Turners continued to fall, shatter and repair itself on the wall behind them.

'He's never going to notice us,' he whispered. 'C'mon ... keep close behind me ...'

They crept out of the office and back towards the door into the black hallway, which now seemed completely deserted. They walked a few steps forwards, Neville tottering slightly due to Hermione's weight; the door of the Time Room swung shut behind them and the walls began to rotate once more. The recent blow on the back of Harry's head seemed to have unsteadied him; he narrowed his eyes, swaying slightly, until the walls stopped moving again. With a sinking heart, Harry saw that Hermione's fiery crosses had faded from the doors.

'So which way d'you reck--?'

But before they could make a decision as to which way to try, a door to their right sprang open and three people fell out of it.

'Ron!' croaked Harry, dashing towards them. 'Ginny--are you all--?'

'Harry,' said Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forwards, seizing the front of Harry's robes and gazing at him with unfocused eyes, 'there you are ... ha ha ha ... you look funny, Harry ... you're all messed up ...'

Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry was pulled into a kind of bow.

'Ginny?' Harry said fearfully. 'What happened?'

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

'I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack,' whispered Luna, who was bending over her and who alone seemed to be unhurt. 'Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets; it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark--'

'Harry, we saw Uranus up close!' said Ron, still giggling feebly. 'Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus--ha ha ha--'

A bubble of blood grew at the corner of Ron's mouth and burst.

'--anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but ...'

Luna gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed.

'And what about Ron?' said Harry fearfully, as Ron continued to giggle, still hanging off the front of Harry's robes.

'I don't know what they hit him with,' said Luna sadly, 'but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all.'

'Harry,' said Ron, pulling Harry's ear down to his mouth and still giggling weakly, 'you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony ... Loony Lovegood ... ha ha ha ...'

'We've got to get out of here,' said Harry firmly. 'Luna, can you help Ginny?'

'Yes,' said Luna, sticking her wand behind her ear for safekeeping, then putting an arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her up.

'It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!' said Ginny impatiently, but next moment she had collapsed sideways and grabbed Luna for support. Harry pulled Ron's arm over his shoulder just as, so many months ago, he had pulled Dudley's. He looked around: they had a one in twelve chance of getting the exit right first time--

He heaved Ron towards a door; they were within a few feet of it when another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters sped in, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

'There they are!' she shrieked.

Stunning Spells shot across the room: Harry smashed his way through the door ahead, flung Ron unceremoniously from him and ducked back to help Neville in with Hermione: they were all over the threshold just in time to slam the door against Bellatrix.

'Colloportus!' shouted Harry, and he heard three bodies slam into the door on the other side.

'It doesn't matter!' said a man's voice. 'There are other ways in--WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!'

Harry span around; they were back in the Brain Room and, sure enough, there were doors all around the walls. He could hear footsteps in the hall behind them as more Death Eaters came running to join the first.

'Luna--Neville-- help me!'

The three of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went; Harry crashed into a tbale and rolled over the top of it in his haste to reach the next door:

'Colloportus!'

There were footsteps running along behind the doors, every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered; Luna and Neville were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall--then, as Harry reached the very top of the room, he heard Luna cry:

'Collo--aaaaaaaaargh ...'

He turned in time to see her flying through the air; five Death Eaters were surging into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Luna hit a desk, slid over its surface and on to the floor on the other side where she lay sprawled, as still as Hermione.

'Get Potter!' shrieked Bellatrix, and she ran at him; he dodged her and sprinted back up the room; he was safe as long as they thought they might hit the prophecy--

'Hey!' said Ron, who had staggered to his feet and was now tottering drunkenly towards Harry, giggling. 'Hey, Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?'

'Ron, get out of the way, get down--'

But Ron had already pointed his wand at the tank.

'Honest, Harry, they're brains--look--Accio brain!'

The scene seemed momentarily frozen. Harry, Ginny and Neville and each of the Death Eaters turned in spite of themselves to watch the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish: for a moment it seemed suspended in midair, then it soared towards Ron, spinning as it came, and what looked like ribbons of moving images flew from it, unravelling like rolls of film--

'Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it--' said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards, 'Harry, come and touch it; bet it's weird--'

'RON, NO!'

Harry did not know what would happen if Ron touched the tentacles of thought now flying behind the brain, but he was sure it would not be anything good. He darted forwards but Ron had already caught the brain in his outstretched hands.

The moment they made contact with his skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like ropes.

'Harry, look what's happen--No--no--I don't like it--no, stop--stop--'

But the thin ribbons were spinning around Ron's chest now; he tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight against him like an octopus's body.

'Diffindo!' yelled Harry, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Ron before his eyes, but they would not break. Ron fell over, still thrashing against his bonds.

'Harry, it'll suffocate him!' screamed Ginny, immobilised by her broken ankle on the floor-- then a jet of red light flew from one of the Death Eater's wands and hit her squarely in the face. She keeled over sideways and lay there unconscious.

'STUBEFY!' shouted Neville, wheeling around and waving Hermione's wand at the oncoming Death Eaters, 'STUBEFY, STUBEFY!'

But nothing happened.

One of the Death Eaters shot their own Stunning Spell at Neville; it missed him by inches. Harry and Neville were now the only two left fighting the five Death Eaters, two of whom sent off streams of silver light like arrows which missed but left craters in the wall behind them. Harry ran for it as Bellatrix Lestrange raced right at him: holding the prophecy high above his head, he sprinted back up the room; all he could think of doing was to draw the Death Eaters away from the others.

It seemed to have worked; they streaked after him, knocking chairs and tables flying but not daring to bewitch him in case they hurt the prophecy, and he dashed through the only door still open, the one through which the Death Eaters themselves had come; inwardly praying that Neville would stay with Ron and find some way of releasing him. He ran a few feet into the new room and felt the floor vanish--

He was falling down steep stone step after steep stone step, bouncing on every tier until at last, with a crash that knocked all the breath out of his body, he landed flat on his back in the sunken pit where the stone archway stood on its dais. The whole room was ringing with the Death Eater's laughter: he looked up and saw the five who had been in the Brain Room descending towards him, while as many more emerged through other doorways and began leaping from bench to bench towards him. Harry got to his feet though his legs were trembling so badly they barely supported him: the prophecy was still miraculously unbroken in his left hand, his wand clutched tightly in his right. He backed away, looking around, trying to keep all the Death Eaters within his sight. The back of his legs hit something solid: he had reached the dais where the archway stood. He climbed backwards onto it.

The Death Eaters all halted, gazing at him. Some were panting as hard as he was. One was bleeding badly; Dolohov, freed of the Body-Bind Curse, was leering, his wand pointing straight at Harry's face.

'Potter, your race is run,' drawled Lucius Malfoy, pulling off his mask, 'now hand me the prophecy like a good boy.'

'Let--let the others go, and I'll give it to you!' said Harry desperately.

A few of the Death Eaters laughed.

'You are not in a position to bargain, Potter,' said Lucius Malfoy, his pale face flushed with pleasure. 'You see, there are ten of us and only one of you ... or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?'

'He's dot alone!' shouted a voice from above them. 'He's still god be!'

Harry's heart sank: Neville was scrambling down the stone benches towards them, Hermione's wand held fast in his trembling hand.

'Neville--no-- go back to Ron--'

'STUBEFY!' Neville shouted again, pointing his wand at each Death Eater in turn. 'STUBEFY! STUBE--'

One of the largest Death Eaters seized Neville from behind, pinioning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked; several of the Death Eaters laughed.

'It's Longbottom, isn't it?' sneered Lucius Malfoy. 'Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause ... your death will not come as a great shock.'

'Longbottom?' repeated Bellatrix, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. 'Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy.'

'I DOE YOU HAB!' roared Neville, and he fought so hard against his captor's encircling grip that the Death Eater shouted, 'Someone Stun him!'

'No, no, no,' said Bellatrix. She looked transported, alive with excitement as she glanced at Harry, then back at Neville. 'No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents ... unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy.'

'DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!' roared Neville, who seemed beside himself, kicking and writhing as Bellatrix drew nearer to him and his captor, her wand raised. 'DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!'

Bellatrix raised her wand. 'Crucio!'

Neville screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest so that the Death Eater holding him was momentarily holding him off the ground. The Death Eater dropped him and he fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.

'That was just a taster!' said Bellatrix, raising her wand so that Neville's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at Harry. 'Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way!'

Harry did not have to think; there was no choice. The prophecy was hot with the heat of his clutching hand as he held it out. Malfoy jumped forwards to take it.

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley.

Malfoy turned, and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Harry did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dais out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, Harry could see Neville crawling along. He dodged another jet of red light and flung himself flat on the ground to reach Neville.

'Are you OK?' he yelled, as another spell soared inches over their heads.

'Yes,' said Neville, trying to pull himself up.

'And Ron?'

'I dink he's all righd--he was still fighding de brain when I lefd--'

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where Neville's hand had been only seconds before; both scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized Harry around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

'Give it to me,' growled a voice in his ear, 'give me the prophecy--'

The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe. Through watering eyes he saw Sirius duelling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix--nobody seemed to realise that Harry was dying. He turned his wand backwards towards the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping towards the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy--'

'AARGH!'

Neville had come lunging out of nowhere; unable to articulate a spell, he had jabbed Hermione's wand hard into the eyehole of the Death Eater's mask. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain. Harry whirled around to face him and gasped:

'STUPEFY!'

The Death Eater keeled over backwards and his mask slipped off: it was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be killer, one of his eyes now swollen and bloodshot.

'Thanks!' Harry said to Neville, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, duelling so fiercely that their wands were blurs; then Harry's foot made contact with something round and hard and he slipped. For a moment he thought he had dropped the prophecy, but then he saw Moody's magical eye spinning away across the floor.

Its owner was lying on his side, bleeding from the head, and his attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and Neville: Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee.

'Tarantallegra!' he shouted, his wand pointing at Neville, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap-dance, unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor again. 'Now, Potter--'

He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, 'Protego!'

Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife; the force of it knocked him sideways and he fell over Neville's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell.

Dolohov raised his wand again. 'Accio proph--'

Sirius had hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling on to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were duelling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand-tips--

Dolohov drew back his wand to make the same slashing movement he had used on Harry and Hermione. Springing up, Harry yelled, 'Petrificus Totalus!' Once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backwards, landing with a crash on his back.

'Nice one!' shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew towards them. 'Now I want you to get out of--'

They both ducked again; a jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius. Across the room Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back towards the fray.

'Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville and run!' Sirius yelled, dashing to meet Bellatrix. Harry did not see what happened next: Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with the pockmarked and no longer masked Rookwood; another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself towards Neville--

'Can you stand?' he bellowed in Neville's ear, as Neville's legs jerked and twitched uncontrollably. 'Put your arm round my neck--'

Neville did so-- Harry heaved--Neville's legs were still lying in every direction, they would not support him, and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them: both fell backwards, Neville's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Harry with his left arm held up in the air to try to save the small glass ball from being smashed.

'The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!' snarled Lucus Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs.

'No--get--off-- me ... Neville--catch it!'

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville span himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, 'Impedimenta!'

Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now duelling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them.

'Harry, round up the others and GO!'

Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily on to the first tier of stone steps; Neville's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight; Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step--'

A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel; it crumbled away and he fell back to the step below. Neville sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and he thrust the prophecy into his pocket.

'Come on!' said Harry desperately, hauling at Neville's robes. 'Just try and push with your legs--'

He gave another stupendous heave and Neville's robes tore all along the left seam--the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and, before either of them could catch it, one of Neville's floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.

'Harry, I'b sorry!' cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. 'I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do--'

'It doesn't matter!' Harry shouted. 'Just try and stand, let's get out of--'

'Dubbledore!' said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry's shoulder.

'What?'

'DUBBLEDORE!'

Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body--they were saved.

Dumbledore sped down the steps past Neville and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realised he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line--

Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her.

'Come on, you can do better than that!' he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dais.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.

Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.

Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing--Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second ...

But Sirius did not reappear.

'SIRIUS!' Harry yelled. 'SIRIUS!'

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out ...

But as he reached the ground and sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back.

'There's nothing you can do, Harry--'

'Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!'

'--it's too late, Harry.'

'We can still reach him--' Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go ...

'There's nothing you can do, Harry ... nothing ... he's gone.'

Chapter 34 The Department of Mysteries

Harry wound his hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a stump nearby and scrambled clumsily on to the horse's silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and attempted to continue its eager licking of his robes.

He found there was a way of lodging his knees behind the wing joints that made him feel more secure, then looked around at the others. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one short leg over the creature's back. Luna was already in place, sitting side-saddle and adjusting her robes as though she did this every day. Ron, Hermione and Ginny, however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

'What?' he said.

'How're we supposed to get on?' said Ron faintly. 'When we can't see the things?'

'Oh, it's easy,' said Luna, sliding obligingly from her Thestral and marching over to him, Hermione and Ginny. 'Come here ...'

She pulled them over to the other Thestrals standing around and one by one managed to help them on to the back of their mount. All three looked extremely nervous as she wound their hands into their horses mane and told them to grip tightly before she got back on to her own steed.

'This is mad,' Ron murmured, moving his free hand gingerly up and down his horse's neck. 'Mad ... if I could just see it--'

'You'd better hope it stays invisible,' said Harry darkly. 'We all ready, then?'

They all nodded and he saw live pairs of knees tighten beneath their robes.

'OK ...'

He looked down at the back of his Thestral's glossy black head and swallowed.

'Ministry of Magic, visitors' entrance, London, then,' he said uncertainly. 'Er ... if you know ... where to go ...'

For a moment Harry's Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horses silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a blood-red sunset.

Harry did not think he had ever moved so fast: the Thestral streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating; the cooling air was slapping Harry's face; eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, he looked round and saw his five fellows soaring along behind him, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their Thestral to protect themselves from his slipstream.

They were over the Hogwarts grounds, they had passed Hogsmeade; Harry could see mountains and gullies below them. As the daylight began to fail, Harry saw small collections of lights as they passed over more villages, then a winding road on which a single car was beetling its way home through the hills ...

'This is bizarre!' Harry barely heard Ron yell from somewhere behind him, and he imagined how it must feel to be speeding along at this height with no visible means of support.

Twilight fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were travelling. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around his horse's neck as he willed it to go even faster. How much time had elapsed since he had seen Sirius lying on the Department of Mysteries floor? How much longer would Sirius be able to resist Voldemort? All Harry knew for sure was that his godfather had neither done as Voldemort wanted, nor died, for he was convinced that either outcome would have caused him to feel Voldemort's jubilation or fury course through his own body, making his scar sear as painfully as it had on the night Mr. Weasley was attacked.

On they flew through the gathering darkness; Harry's face felt stiff and cold, his legs numb from gripping the Thestral's sides so tightly, but he did not dare shift his position lest he slip ... he was deaf from the thundering rush of air in his ears, and his mouth was dry and frozen from the cold night wind. He had lost all sense of how far they had come; all his faith was in the beast beneath him, still streaking purposefully through the night, barely flapping its wings as it sped ever onwards.

If they were too late ...

He's still alive, he's still fighting, I can feel it ...

If Voldemort decided Sirius was not going to crack ...

I'd know ...

Harry's stomach gave a jolt; the Thestral's head was suddenly pointing towards the ground and he actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. They were descending at last ... he thought he heard a shriek behind him and twisted around dangerously, but could see no sign of a falling body ... presumably they had all received a shock from the change of direction, just as he had.

And now bright orange lights were growing larger and rounder on all sides; they could see the tops of buildings, streams of headlights like luminous insect eyes, squares of pale yellow that were windows. Quite suddenly, it seemed, they were hurtling towards the pavement; Harry gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of his strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow and Harry slid from its back, looking around at the street where the overflowing skip still stood a short way from the vandalised telephone box, both drained of colour in the flat orange glare of the streetlights.

Ron landed a short way off and toppled immediately from his Thestral on to the pavement.

'Never again,' he said, struggling to his feet. He made as though to stride away from his Thestral, but, unable to see it, collided with its hindquarters and almost fell over again. Never, ever again ... that was the worst--'

Hermione and Ginny touched down on either side of him: both slid off their mounts a little more gracefully than Ron, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground; Neville jumped down, shaking; and Luna dismounted smoothly.

'Where do we go from here, then?' she asked Harry in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.

'Over here,' he said. He gave his Thestral a quick, grateful pat, then led the way quickly to the battered telephone box and opened the door. 'Come on!' he urged the others, as they hesitated.

Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Hermione, Neville and Luna squashed themselves in after them; Harry took one glance back at the Thestrals, now foraging for scraps of rotten food inside the skip, then forced himself into the box after Luna.

'Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!' he said.

Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial; as it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box.

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.'

'Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,' Harry said very quickly, 'Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood ... we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!'

'Thank you,' said the cool female voice. 'Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.'

Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Ginny's head; he glanced at the topmost one, Harry Potter,Rescue Mission.

'Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.'

'Fine!' Harry said loudly, as his scar gave another throb. 'Now can we move?'

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals were sliding out of sight; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. Harry bent his knees and held his wand as ready as he could in such cramped conditions as he peered through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for them in the Atrium, but it seemed, to be completely empty. The light was dimmer than it had been by day; there were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but as the lift slid smoothly to a halt he saw that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

'The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,' said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box burst open; Harry toppled out of it, closely followed by Neville and Luna. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

'Come on, said Harry quietly and the six of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain towards the desk where the watchwizard who had weighed Harry's wand had sat, and which was now deserted.

Harry felt sure there ought to be a security person there, sure their absence was an ominous sign, and his feeling of foreboding increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts. He pressed the nearest 'down' button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button; the grilles closed with a bang and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. Harry had not realised how noisy the lifts were on the day he had come with Mr. Weasley; he was sure the din would raise every security person within the building, yet when the lilt halted, the cool female voice said, 'Department of Mysteries,' and the grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving out but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Harry turned towards the plain black door. After months and months of dreaming about it, he was here at last.

'Let's go,' he whispered, and he led the way down the corridor, Luna right behind him, gazing around with her mouth slightly open.

'OK, listen,' said Harry, stopping again within six feet of the door. 'Maybe ... maybe a couple of people should stay here as a--as a lookout, and--'

'And how're we going to let you know something's coming?' asked Ginny, her eyebrows raised. 'You could be miles away.'

'We're coming with you, Harry,' said Neville.

'Let's get on with it,' said Ron firmly.

Harry still did not want to take them all with him, but it seemed he had no choice. He turned to face the door and walked forwards ... just as it had in his dream, it swung open and he marched over the threshold, the others at his heels.

They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

'Someone shut the door,' Harry muttered.

He regretted giving this order the moment Neville had obeyed it. Without the long chink of light from the torchlit corridor behind them, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things they could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor.

In his dream, Harry had always walked purposefully across this room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and walked on. But there were around a dozen doors here. Just as he was gazing ahead at the doors opposite him, trying to decide which was the right one, there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as though frightened the floor might move, too, but it did not. For a few seconds, the blue flames around them were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around; then, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

Harry's eyes had blue streaks burned into them; it was all he could see.

'What was that about?' whispered Ron fearfully.

'I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through,' said Ginny in a hushed voice.

Harry realised at once she was right: he could no sooner identify the exit door than locate an ant on the jet-black floor; and the door through which they needed to proceed could be any one of the dozen surrounding them.

'How're we going to get back out?' said Neville uncomfortably.

'Well, that doesn't matter now,' said Harry forcefully, blinking to try to erase the blue lines from his vision, and clutching his wand tighter than ever, 'we won't need to get out till we've found Sirius--'

'Don't go calling for him, though!' Hermione said urgently; but Harry had never needed her advice less, his instinct was to keep as quiet as possible.

'Where do we go, then, Harry?' Ron asked.

'I don't--' Harry began. He swallowed. 'In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room--that's this one--and then I went through another door into a room that kind of ... glitters. We should try a few doors,' he said hastily, 'I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon.'

He marched straight at the door now facing him, the others following close behind him, set his left hand against its cool, shining surface, raised his wand ready to strike the moment it opened, and pushed.

It swung open easily.

After the darkness of the first room, the lamps hanging low on golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights as Harry had seen in his dreams. The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, big enough for all of them to swim in; a number of pearly-white objects were drifting around lazily in it.

'What're those things?' whispered Ron.

'Dunno,' said Harry.

'Are they fish?' breathed Ginny.

'Aquavirius Maggots!' said Luna excitedly. 'Dad said the Ministry were breeding--'

'No,' said Hermione. She sounded odd. She moved forward to look through the side of the tank. 'They're brains.'

'Brains?'

'Yes ... I wonder what they're doing with them?'

Harry joined her at the tank. Sure enough, there could be no mistake now he saw them at close quarters. Glimmering eerily, they drifted in and out of sight in the depths of the green liquid, looking something like slimy cauliflowers.

'Let's get out of here,' said Harry. 'This isn't right, we need to try another door.'

'There are doors here, too,' said Ron, pointing around the walls. Harry's heart sank; how big was this place?

'In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one,' he said. 'I think we should go back and try from there.'

So they hurried back into the dark, circular room; the ghostly shapes of the brains were now swimming before Harry's eyes instead of the blue candle flames.

'Wait!' said Hermione sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the brain room behind them. 'Flagrate!'

She drew with her wand in midair and a fiery 'X' appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red-gold blur in amongst the faint blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

'Good thinking,' said Harry. 'OK, let's try this one--'

Again, he strode directly at the door facing him and pushed it open, his wand still raised, the others at his heels.

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the centre of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre, or the courtroom in which Harry had been tried by the Wizengamot. Instead, of a chained chair, however, there was a raised stone dais in the centre of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

'Who's there?' said Harry, jumping down on to the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway.

'Careful!' whispered Hermione.

Harry scrambled down the benches one by one until he reached the stone bottom of the sunken pit. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller from where he now stood than it had when he'd been looking down on it from above. Still the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it.

'Sirius?' Harry spoke again, but more quietly now that he was nearer.

He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

'Let's go,' called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. 'This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go.'

She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it.

'Harry, let's go, OK?' Said Hermione more forcefully.

'OK,' he said, but did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil.

'What are you saying?' he said, very loudly, so that his words echoed all around the stone benches.

'Nobody's talking, Harry!' said Hermione, now moving over to him.

'Someone's whispering behind there,' he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. 'Is that you, Ron?'

'I'm here, mate,' said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway.

'Can't anyone else hear it?' Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais.

'I can hear them too,' breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. 'There are people in there!'

'What do you mean, "in there"?' demanded Hermione, jumping down from the bottom step and sounding much angrier than the occasion warranted, 'there isn't any "in there", it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Harry, stop it, come away--'

She grabbed his arm and pulled, but he resisted.

'Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!' she said in a high-pitched, strained voice.

'Sirius,' Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerised, at the continuously swaying veil. 'Yeah ...'

Something finally slid back into place in his brain; Sirius, captured, bound and tortured, and he was staring at this archway ...

He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil.

'Let's go,' he said.

'That's what I've been trying to--well, come on, then!' said Hermione, and she led the way back around the dais. On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny's arm,

Ron grabbed Neville's, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door.

'What d'you reckon that arch was?' Harry asked Hermione as they regained the dark circular room.

'I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous,' she said firmly, again inscribing a fiery cross on the door.

Once more, the wall span and became still again. Harry approached another door at random and pushed. It did not move.

'What's wrong?' said Hermione.

'It's ... locked ...' said Harry, throwing his weight at the door, but it didn't budge.

'This is it, then, isn't it?' said Ron excitedly, joining Harry in the attempt to force the door open. 'Bound to be!'

'Get out of the way!' said Hermione sharply. She pointed her wand at the place where a lock would have been on an ordinary door and said, 'Alohomora!'

Nothing happened.

'Sirius's knife!' said Harry. He pulled it out from inside his robes and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall. The others all watched eagerly as he ran it from top to bottom, withdrew it and then flung his shoulder again at the door. It remained as firmly shut as ever. What was more, when Harry looked down at the knife, he saw the blade had melted.

'Right, we're leaving that room,' said Hermione decisively.

'But what if that's the one?' said Ron, staring at it with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

'It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream,' said Hermione, marking the door with another fiery cross as Harry replaced the now-useless handle of Sirius's knife in his pocket.

'You know what could be in there?' said Luna eagerly, as the wall started to spin yet again.

'Something blibbering, no doubt,' said Hermione under her breath and Neville gave a nervous little laugh.

The wall slid to a halt and Harry, with a feeling of increasing desperation, pushed the next door open.

'This is it!'

He knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry's eyes became accustomed to the brilliant glare, he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

'This way!'

Harry's heart was pumping frantically now that he knew they were on the right track; he led the way down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

'Oh, took!' said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

'Keep going!' said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg's progress back into a bird.

'You dawdled enough by that old arch!' she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

'This is it,' Harry said again, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt it must interfere with his speech, 'it's through here--'

He glanced around at them all; they had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. He looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. He could not hear anything or see the slightest sign of movement.

'You said it was row ninety-seven,' whispered Hermione.

'Yeah,' breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-three.

'We need to go right, I think,' whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. 'Yes ... that's fifty-four ...'

'Keep your wands ready,' Harry said softly.

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

They passed row eighty-four ... eighty-five ... Harry was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement, but Sirius might be gagged now, or else unconscious ... or, said an unbidden voice inside his head, he might already be dead ...

I'd have felt it, he told himself, his heart now hammering against his Adam's apple, I'd already know ...

'Ninety-seven!' whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

'He's right down at the end,' said Harry, whose mouth had become slightly dry. 'You can't see properly from here.'

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed ...

'He should be near here,' whispered Harry, convinced that every step was going to bring the ragged form of Sirius into view on the darkened floor. 'Anywhere here ... really close ...'

'Harry?' said Hermione tentatively, but he did not want to respond. His mouth was very dry.

'Somewhere about ... here ...' he said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight, There was nobody there. All was echoing, dusty silence.

'He might be ...' Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. 'Or maybe ...' He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

'Harry?' said Hermione again.

'What?' he snarled.

'I ... I don't think Sirius is here.'

Nobody spoke. Harry did not want to look at any of them. He felt sick. He did not understand why Sirius was not here. He had to be here. This was where he, Harry, had seen him ...

He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Empty aisle after empty aisle flickered past. He ran the other way, back past his staring companions. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, nor any hint of a struggle.

'Harry?' Ron called.

'What?'

He did not want to hear what Ron had to say; did not want to hear Ron tell him he had been stupid or suggest that they ought to go back to Hogwarts, but the heat was rising in his face and he felt as though he would like to skulk down here in the darkness for a long while before facing the brightness of the Atrium above and the others' accusing stares ...

'Have you seen this?' said Ron.

'What?' said Harry, but eagerly this time--it had to be a sign that Sirius had been there, a clue. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

'What?' Harry repeated glumly.

'It's--it's got your name on,' said Ron.

Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

'My name?' said Harry blankly.

He stepped forwards. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

and (?)Harry Potter

Harry stared at it.

'What is it?' Ron asked, sounding unnerved. 'What's your name doing down here?'

He glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf.

'I'm not here,' he said, sounding perplexed. 'None of the rest of us are here.'

'Harry, I don't think you should touch it,' said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

'Why not?' he said. 'It's something to do with me, isn't it?'

'Don't, Harry,' said Neville suddenly. Harry looked at him. Neville's round face was shining slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense.

'It's got my name on,' said Harry.

And feeling slightly reckless, he closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make their long and dangerous journey worth while after all, Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust.

And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice spoke.

'Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.'

Chapter 33 Fight and Flight

Harry had no idea what Hermione was planning, or even whether she had a plan. He walked half a pace behind her as they headed down the corridor outside Umbridge's office, knowing it would look very suspicious if he appeared not to know where they were going. He did not dare attempt to talk to her; Umbridge was walking so closely behind them that he could hear her ragged breathing.

Hermione led the way down the stairs into the Entrance Hall. The din of loud voices and the clatter of cutlery on plates echoed from out of the double doors to the Great Hall--it seemed incredible to Harry that twenty feet away were people who were enjoying dinner, celebrating the end of exams, not a care in the world ...

Hermione walked straight out of the oak front doors and down the stone steps into the balmy evening air. The sun was falling towards the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest now, and as Hermione marched purposefully across the grass--Umbridge jogging to keep up--their long dark shadows rippled over the grass behind them like cloaks.

'It's hidden in Hagrid's hut, is it?' said Umbridge eagerly in Harry's ear.

'Of course not,' said Hermione scathingly. 'Hagrid might have set it off accidentally.'

'Yes,' said Umbridge, whose excitement seemed to be mounting. 'Yes, he would have done, of course, the great half-breed oaf.'

She laughed. Harry felt a strong urge to swing round and seize her by the throat, but resisted. His scar was throbbing in the soft evening air but it had not yet burned white-hot, as he knew it would if Voldemort had moved in for the kill.

'Th en ... where is it? asked Umbridge, with a hint or uncertainty in her voice as Hermione continued to stride towards the Forest.

'In there, of course,' said Hermione, pointing into the dark trees. 'It had to be somewhere that students weren't going to find it accidentally, didn't it?'

'Of course,' said Umbridge, though she sounded a little apprehensive now. 'Of course ... very well, then ... you two stay ahead of me.'

'Can we have your wand, then, if we're going first?' Harry asked her.

'No, I don't think so, Mr. Potter,' said Umbridge sweetly, poking him in the back with it. 'The Ministry places a rather higher value on my life than yours, I'm afraid.'

As they reached the cool shade of the first trees, Harry tried to catch Hermione's eye; walking into the Forest without wands seemed to him to be more foolhardy than anything they had done so far this evening. She, however, merely gave Umbridge a contemptuous glance and plunged straight into the trees, moving at such a pace that Umbridge, with her shorter legs, had difficulty in keeping up.

'Is it very far in?' Umbridge asked, as her robe ripped on a bramble.

'Oh yes,' said Hermione, 'yes, it's well hidden.'

Harry's misgivings increased. Hermione was not taking the path they had followed to visit Grawp, but the one he followed three years ago to the lair of the monster Aragog. Hermione had not been with him on that occasion; he doubted she had any idea what danger lay at the end of it.

'Er--are you sure this is the right way?' he asked her pointedly.

'Oh yes,' she said in a steely voice, crashing through the undergrowth with what he thought was a wholly unnecessary amount of noise. Behind them, Umbridge tripped over a fallen sapling. Neither of them paused to help her up again; Hermione merely strode on, calling loudly over her shoulder, 'It's a bit further in!'

'Hermione, keep your voice down,' Harry muttered, hurrying to catch up with her. 'Anything could be listening in here--'

'I want us heard,' she answered quietly, as Umbridge jogged noisily after them. 'You'll see ...'

They walked on for what seemed a long time, until they were once again so deep into the Forest that the dense tree canopy blocked out all light. Harry had the feeling he had had before in the Forest, one of being watched by unseen eyes.

'How much further?' demanded Umbridge angrily from behind him.

'Not far now!' shouted Hermione, as they emerged into a dim, dank clearing. 'Just a little bit --'

An arrow flew through the air and landed with a menacing thud in the tree just over her head. The air was suddenly full of the sound of hooves; Harry could feel the Forest floor trembling; Umbridge gave a little scream and pushed him in front of her like a shield--

He wrenched himself free of her and turned. Around fifty centaurs were emerging on every side, their bows raised and loaded, pointing at Harry, Hermione and Umbridge. They backed slowly into the centre of the clearing, Umbridge uttering odd little whimpers of terror. Harry looked sideways at Hermione. She was wearing a triumphant smile.

'Who are you?' said a voice.

Harry looked left. The chestnut-bodied centaur called Magorian was walking towards them out of the circle: his bow, like those of the others, was raised. On Harry's right, Umbridge was still whimpering, her wand trembling violently as she pointed it at the advancing centaur.

'I asked you who are you, human,' said Magorian roughly.

'I am Dolores Umbridge!' said Umbridge in a high-pitched, terrified voice. 'Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!'

'You are from the Ministry of Magic?' said Magorian, as many of the centaurs in the surrounding circle shifted restlessly.

'That's right!' said Umbridge, in an even higher voice, 'so be very careful! By the laws laid down by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds such as yourselves on a human--'

'What did you call us?' shouted a wild-looking black centaur, whom Harry recognised as Bane. There was a great deal of angry muttering and tightening of bowstrings around them.

'Don't call them that!' Hermione said furiously, but Umbridge did not appear to have heard her. Still pointing her shaking wand at Magorian, she continued, 'Law Fifteen "B" states clearly that "any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions--'

'"Near-human intelligence"?' repeated Magorian, as Bane and several others roared with rage and pawed the ground. 'We consider that a great insult, human! Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstrips your own.'

'What are you doing in our Forest?' bellowed the hard-faced grey centaur Harry and Hermione had seen on their last trip into the Forest. 'Why are you here?'

'Your Forest?' said Umbridge, shaking now not only with fright but also, it seemed, with indignation. 'I would remind you that you live here only because the Ministry of Magic permits you certain areas of land--'

An arrow flew so close to her head that it caught at her mousy hair in passing: she let out an ear-splitting scream and threw her hands over her head, while some of the centaurs bellowed their approval and others laughed raucously. The sound of their wild, neighing laughter echoing around the dimly lit clearing and the sight of their pawing hooves was extremely unnerving.

'Whose Forest is it now, human?' bellowed Bane.

'Filthy half-breeds!' she screamed, her hands still tight over her head. 'Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!'

'Be quiet!' shouted Hermione, but it was too late: Umbridge pointed her wand at Magorian and screamed, 'Incarcerous!'

Ropes flew out of midair like thick snakes, wrapping themselves tightly around the centaur's torso and trapping his arms: he gave a cry of rage and reared on to his hind legs, attempting to free himself, while the other centaurs charged.

Harry grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the ground; face down on the Forest floor, he knew a moment of terror as hooves thundered around him, but the centaurs leapt over and around them, bellowing and screaming with rage.

'Nooooo!' he heard Umbridge shriek. 'Noooooo ... I am Senior Undersecretary ... you cannot--Unhand me, you animals ... nooooo!'

Harry saw a flash of red light and knew she had attempted to Stun one of them; then she screamed very loudly. Lifting his head a few inches, Harry saw that Umbridge had been seized from behind by Bane and lifted high into the air, wriggling and yelling with fright. Her wand fell from her hand to the ground, and Harry's heart leapt. If he could just reach it--'

But as he stretched out a hand towards it, a centaur's hoof descended upon the wand and it broke cleanly in half.

'Now!' roared a voice in Harry's ear and a thick hairy arm descended from thin air and dragged him upright. Hermione, too, had been pulled to her feet. Over the plunging, many-coloured backs and heads of the centaurs, Harry saw Umbridge being borne away through the trees by Bane. Screaming non-stop, her voice grew fainter and fainter until they could no longer hear it over the trampling of hooves surrounding them.

'And these?' said the hard-faced, grey centaur holding Hermione.

'They are young,' said a slow, doleful voice from behind Harry. 'We do not attack foals.'

'They brought her here, Ronan,' replied the centaur who had such a firm grip on Harry. 'And they are not so young ... he is nearing manhood, this one.'

He shook Harry by the neck of his robes.

'Please,' said Hermione breathlessly, 'please, don't attack us, We don't think like her, we aren't Ministry of Magic employees! We only came in here because we hoped you'd drive her off for us.'

Harry knew at once, from the look on the face of the grey centaur holding Hermione, that she had made a terrible mistake in saying this. The grey centaur threw back his head, his back legs stamping furiously, and bellowed, 'You see, Ronan? They already have the arrogance of their kind! So we were to do your dirty work, were we, human girl? We were to act as your servants, drive away your enemies like obedient hounds?'

'No!' said Hermione in a horrorstruck squeak. 'Please--I didn't mean that! I just hoped you'd be able to--to help us--'

But she seemed to be going from bad to worse.

'We do not help humans!' snarled the centaur holding Harry, tightening his grip and rearing a little at the same time, so that Harry's feet left the ground momentarily. 'We are a race apart and proud to be so. We will not permit you to walk from here, boasting that we did your bidding!'

'We're not going to say anything like that!' Harry shouted. 'We know you didn't do what you did because we wanted you to--'

But nobody seemed to be listening to him.

A bearded centaur towards the back of the crowd shouted, 'They came here unasked, they must pay the consequences!'

A roar of approval met these words and a dun-coloured centaur shouted, 'They can join the woman!'

'You said you didn't hurt the innocent!' shouted Hermione, real tears sliding down her face now. 'We haven't done anything to hurt you, we haven't used wands or threats, we just want to go back to school, please let us go back--'

'We are not all like the traitor Firenze, human girl!' shouted the grey centaur, to more neighing roars of approval from his fellows. 'Perhaps you thought us pretty talking horses? We are an ancient people who will not stand wizard invasions and insults! We do not recognise your laws, we do not acknowledge your superiority, we are--'

But they did not hear what else centaurs were, for at that moment there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of them, Harry, Hermione and the fifty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. Harry's centaur let him fall to the ground again as his hands flew to his bow and quiver of arrows. Hermione had been dropped, too, and Harry hurried towards her as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Grawp the giant appeared in the gap.

The centaurs nearest him backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face now looming over them from just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Grawp's lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; they could see his bricklike yellow teeth glimmering in the half-light, his dull sludge-coloured eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the creatures at his feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.

He opened his mouth even wider.

'Hagger.'

Harry did not know what 'hagger' meant, or what language it was from, nor did he much care; he was watching Grawp's feet, which were almost as long as Harry's whole body. Hermione gripped his arm tightly; the centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giant, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as he continued to peer amongst them as though looking for something he had dropped.

'Hagger!' he said again, more insistently.

'Get away from here, giant!' called Magorian. 'You are not welcome among us!'

These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Grawp. He stooped a little (the centaurs' arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, 'HAGGER!'

A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.

'Harry!' she whispered. 'I think he's trying to say "Hagrid"!'

At this precise moment Grawp caught sight of them, the only two humans in a sea of centaurs. He lowered his head another foot or so, staring intently at them. Harry could feel Hermione shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, 'Hermy.'

'Goodness,' said Hermione, gripping Harry's arm so tightly it was growing numb and looking as though she was about to faint, 'he--he remembered!'

'HERMY!' roared Grawp. 'WHERE HAGGER?'

'I don't know!' squealed Hermione, terrified. 'I'm sorry, Grawp, I don't know!'

'GRAWP WANT HAGGER!'

One of the giants massive hands reached down. Hermione let out a real scream, ran a few steps backwards and fell over. Devoid of a wand, Harry braced himself to punch, kick, bite or whatever else it took as the hand swooped towards him and knocked a snow-white centaur off his legs.

It was what the centaurs had been waiting for--Grawp's outstretched fingers were a foot from Harry when fifty arrows soared through the air at the giant, peppering his enormous face, causing him to howl with pain and rage and straighten up, rubbing his face with his enormous hands, breaking off the arrow shafts but forcing the arrowheads in still deeper.

He yelled and stamped his enormous feet and the centaur; scattered out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Grawp's blood showered Harry as he pulled Hermione to her feet and the pair of them ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the trees. Once there they looked back; Grawp was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down his face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Harry and Hermione watched Grawp give another roar of fury and plunge after them, smashing more trees aside as he went.

'Oh no,' said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. 'Oh, that was horrible. And he might kill them all.'

'I'm not that fussed, to be honest,' said Harry bitterly.

The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant grew fainter and fainter. As Harry listened to them, his scar gave another great throb and a wave of terror swept over him.

They had wasted so much time--they were even further from rescuing Sirius than they had been when he had had the vision. Not only had Harry managed to lose his wand but they were stuck in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with no means of transport whatsoever.

'Smart plan,' he spat at Hermione, having to release some of his fury. 'Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?'

'We need to get back up to the castle,' said Hermione faintly.

'By the time we've done that, Sirius'll probably be dead!' said Harry, kicking a nearby tree in temper. A high-pitched chattering started up overhead and he looked up to see an angry Bowtruckle flexing its long twiglike fingers at him.

'Well, we can't do anything without wands,' said Hermione hopelessly, dragging herself up again. 'Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?'

'Yeah, we were just wondering that.' said a familiar voice from behind her.

Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.

Ron came into sight, closely followed by Ginny, Neville and Luna. All of them looked a little the worse for wear--there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny's cheek; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville's right eye; Ron's lip was bleeding worse than ever--but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.

'So,' said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, 'had any ideas?'

'How did you get away?' asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.

'Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx,' said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. 'But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy--Bat Bogey Hex--it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?'

'She got carried away,' said Harry. 'By a herd of centaurs.'

'And they left you behind?' asked Ginny, looking astonished.

'No, they got chased off by Grawp,' said Harry.

'Who's Grawp?' Luna asked interestedly.

'Hagrid's little brother,' said Ron promptly. 'Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or--?'

'Yes,' said Harry, as his scar gave another painful prickle, 'and I'm sure Sirius is still alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him.'

They all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing them seemed insurmountable.

'Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?' said Luna, in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice Harry had ever heard her use.

'OK,' said Harry irritably, rounding on her. 'First of all, "we" aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron's me only one with a broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so--'

'I've got a broom!' said Ginny.

'Yeah, but you're not coming,' said Ron angrily.

'Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!' said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

'You're too--' Harry began, but Ginny said fiercely, 'I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Philosophers Stone, and it's because of me that Malfoy's stuck back in Umbridge's office with giant flying bogies attacking him--'

'Yeah, but--'

'We were all in the DA together,' said Neville quietly. 'It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it? And this is the first chance we've had to do something real--or was that all just a game or something?'

'No--of course it wasn't--' said Harry impatiently.

'Then we should come too,' said Neville simply. 'We want to help.'

'That's right,' said Luna, smiling happily.

Harry's eyes met Ron's. He knew Ron was thinking exactly what he was: if he could have chosen any members of the DA, in addition to himself, Ron and Hermione, to join him in the attempt to rescue Sirius, he would not have picked Ginny, Neville or Luna.

'Well, it doesn't matter, anyway,' said Harry through gritted teeth, 'because we still don't know how to get there--'

'I thought we'd settled that,' said Luna maddeningly. 'We're flying!'

'Look,' said Ron, barely containing his anger, 'you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings whenever we--'

'There are ways of flying other than with broomsticks,' said Luna serenely.

'I s'pose we're going to ride on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever it is?' Ron demanded.

'The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can't fly,' said Luna in a dignified voice, 'but they can, and Hagrid says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for.'

Harry whirled round. Standing between two trees, their white eyes gleaming eerily, were two Thestrals, watching the whispered conversation as though they understood every word.

'Yes!' he whispered, moving towards them. They tossed their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and Harry stretched out his hand eagerly and patted the nearest one's shining neck; how could he ever have thought them ugly?

'Is it those mad horse things?' said Ron uncertainly, staring at a point slightly to the left of the Thestral Harry was patting. 'Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'How many?'

'Just two.'

'Well, we need three,' said Hermione, who was still looking a little shaken, but determined just the same.

'Four, Hermione,' said Ginny, scowling.

'I think there are six of us, actually,' said Luna calmly, counting.

'Don't be stupid, we can't all go!' said Harry angrily. 'Look, you three--' he pointed at Neville, Ginny and Luna, 'you're not involved in this, you're not--'

They burst into more protests. His scar gave another, more painful, twinge. Every moment they delayed was precious; he did not have time to argue.

'OK, fine, it's your choice,' he said curtly, 'but unless we can find more Thestrals you're not going to be able--'

'Oh, more of them will come,' said Ginny confidently, who like Ron was squinting in quite the wrong direction, apparently under the impression that she was looking at the horses.

'What makes you think that?'

'Because, in case you hadn't noticed, you and Hermione are both covered in blood,' she said coolly, 'and we know Hagrid lures Thestrals with raw meat. That's probably why these two turned up in the first place.'

Harry felt a soft tug on his robes at that moment and looked down to see the closest Thestral licking his sleeve, which was damp with Grawp's blood.

'OK, then,' he said, a bright idea occurring, 'Ron and I will take these two and go ahead, and Hermione can stay here with you three and she'll attract more Thestrals--'

'I'm not staying behind!' said Hermione furiously.

'There's no need,' said Luna, smiling. 'Look, here come more now ... you two must really smell ...'

Harry turned: no fewer than six or seven Thestrals were picking their way through the trees, their great leathery wings folded tight to their bodies, their eyes gleaming through the darkness. He had no excuse now.

'All right,' he said angrily, 'pick one and get on, then.'

Chapter 32 Out of the Fire

'I'm not going ... I don't need the hospital wing ... I don't want ...'

He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring.

I'm--I'm fine, sir,' Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. 'Really ... I just fell asleep ... had a nightmare ...'

'Pressure of examinations!' said the old wizard sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. 'It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?'

'Yes,' said Harry wildly. 'I mean ... no ... I've done--done as much as I can, I think ...'

'Very well, very well,' said the old wizard gently. 'I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down.'

'I'll do that,' said Harry, nodding vigorously. 'Thanks very much.'

The second that the old man's heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey--who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montague's open mouth--to shriek in alarm.

'Potter, what do you think you're doing?'

'I need to see Professor McGonagall,' gasped Harry, the breath tearing his lungs. 'Now ... it's urgent!'

'She's not here, Potter,' said Madam Pomfrey sadly. 'She was transferred to St. Mungo's this morning. Four Stunning Spells straight to the chest at her age? It's a wonder they didn't kill her.'

'She's ... gone?' said Harry, shocked.

The bell rang just outside the dormitory and he heard the usual distant rumbling of students starting to flood out into the corridors above and below him. He remained quite still, looking at Madam Pomfrey. Terror was rising inside him.

There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had gone, but he had always expected Professor McGonagall to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present ...

'I don't wonder you're shocked, Potter,' said Madam Pomfrey, with a kind of fierce approval in her face. 'As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face-on by daylight! Cowardice, that's what it was ... despicable cowardice ... if I wasn't worried what would happen to you students without me, I'd resign in protest.'

'Yes,' said Harry blankly.

He wheeled around and strode blindly from the hospital wing into the teeming corridor where he stood, buffeted by the crowd, panic expanding inside him like poison gas so that his head swam and he could not think what to do ...

Ron and Hermione, said a voice in his head.

He was running again, pushing students out of the way, oblivious to their angry protests. He sprinted, back down two floors and was at the top of the marble staircase when he saw them hurrying towards him.

'Harry!' said Hermione at once, looking very frightened. 'What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?'

'Where have you been?' demanded Ron.

'Come with me,' Harry said quickly. 'Come on, I've got to tell you something.'

He led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind Ron and Hermione the moment they were inside, and leaned against it, facing them.

'Voldemorts got Sirius.'

'What?'

'How d'you--?'

'Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam.'

'But--but where? How?' said Hermione, whose face was white.

'I dunno how,' said Harry. 'But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they're at the end of row ninety-seven ... he's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there ... he's torturing him ... says he'll end by killing him!'

Harry found his voice was shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself.

'How're we going to get there?' he asked them.

There was a moment's silence. Then Ron said, 'G-get there?'

'Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!' Harry said loudly.

'But--Harry ...' said Ron weakly.

'What? What?' said Harry.

He could not understand why they were both gaping at him as though he was asking them something unreasonable.

'Harry,' said Hermione in a rather frightened voice, 'er ... how ... how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realising he was there?'

'How do I know?' bellowed Harry. 'The question is how we're going to get in there!'

'But ... Harry, think about this,' said Hermione, taking a step towards him, 'it's five o'clock in the afternoon ... the Ministry of Magic must be full of workers ... how would Voldemort and Sirius have got in without being seen? Harry ... they're probably the two most wanted wizards in the world ... you think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?'

'I dunno, Voldemort used an Invisibility Cloak or something!' Harry shouted. 'Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been--'

'You've never been there, Harry,' said Hermione quietly. 'You've dreamed about the place, that's all.'

'They're not normal dreams!' Harry shouted in her face, standing up and taking a step closer to her in turn. He wanted to shake her. 'How d'you explain Ron's dad then, what was all that about, how come I knew what had happened to him?'

'He's got a point,' said Ron quietly, looking at Hermione.

'But this is just --just so unlikely!' said Hermione desperately. 'Harry, how on earth could Voldemort have got hold of Sirius when he's been in Grimmauld Place all the time?'

'Sirius might've cracked and just wanted some fresh air,' said Ron, sounding worried. 'He's been desperate to get out of that house for ages--'

'But why,' Hermione persisted, 'why on earth would Voldemort want to use Sirius to get the weapon, or whatever the thing is?'

'I dunno, there could be loads of reasons!' Harry yelled at her. 'Maybe Sirius is just someone Voldemort doesn't care about seeing hurt--'

'You know what, I've just thought of something,' said Ron in a hushed voice. 'Sirius's brother was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Maybe he told Sirius the secret of how to get the weapon!'

'Yeah--and that's why Dumbledore's been so keen to keep Sirius locked up all the time!' said Harry.

'Look, I'm sorry,' cried Hermione, 'but neither of you is making sense, and we've got no proof for any of this, no proof Voldemort and Sirius are even there--'

'Hermione, Harry's seen them!' said Ron, rounding on her.

'OK,' she said, looking frightened yet determined, 'I've just got to say this--'

'What?'

'You ... this isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do ... sort of ... I mean--don't you think you've got a bit of a--a--saving-people thing?' she said.

He glared at her.

'And what's that supposed to mean, a "saving-people thing"?'

'Well ... you ...' she looked more apprehensive than ever. 'I mean ... last year, for instance ... in the lake ... during the Tournament ... you shouldn't have ... I mean, you didn't need to save that little Delacour girl ... you got a bit ... carried away ...'

A wave of hot, prickly anger swept through Harry's body; now could she remind him of that blunder now?

'I mean, it was really great of you and everything,' said Hermione quickly, looking positively petrified at the look on Harry's face, 'everyone thought it was a wonderful thing to do--'

'That's funny,' said Harry through gritted teeth, 'because I definitely remember Ron saying I'd wasted time acting the hero ... is that what you think this is? You reckon I want to act the hero again?'

'No, no, no!' said Hermione, looking aghast. 'That's not what I mean at all!'

'Well, spit out what you've got to say, because we're wasting time here!' Harry shouted.

'I'm trying to say --Voldemort knows you, Harry! He took Ginny down into the Chamber of Secrets to lure you there, it's the kind of thing he does, he knows you're the--the sort of person who'd go to Sirius's aid! What if he's just trying to get you into the Department of Myst--?'

'Hermione, it doesn't matter if he's done it to get me there or not--they've taken McGonagall to St. Mungo's, there isn't anyone from the Order left at Hogwarts who we can tell, and if we don't go, Sirius is dead!'

'But Harry--what if your dream was--was just that, a dream?'

Harry let out a roar of frustration. Hermione actually stepped back from him, looking alarmed.

'You don't get it!' Harry shouted at her, 'I'm not having nightmares, I'm not just dreaming! What d'you think all the Occlumency was for, why d'you think Dumbledore wanted me prevented from seeing these things? Because they're REAL, Hermione--Sirius is trapped, I've seen him. Voldemort's got him, and no one else knows, and that means we're the only ones who can save him, and if you don't want to do it, fine, but I'm going, understand? And if I remember rightly, you didn't have a problem with my saving-people thing when it was you I was saving from the dementors, or--he rounded on Ron--when it was your sister I was saving from the Basilisk--'

'I never said I had a problem!' said Ron heatedly.

'But Harry, you've just said it,' said Hermione fiercely, 'Dumbledore wanted you to learn to shut these things out of your mind, if you'd done Occlumency properly you'd never have seen this--'

'IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN--'

'Sirius told you there was nothing more important than you learning to close your mind!'

'WELL, I EXPECT HE'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I'D JUST--'

The classroom door opened. Harry, Ron and Hermione whipped around. Ginny walked in, looking curious, closely followed by Luna, who as usual looked as though she had drifted in accidentally.

'Hi,' said Ginny uncertainly. 'We recognised Harry's voice. What are you yelling about?'

'Never you mind,' said Harry roughly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

'There's no need to take that tone with me,' she said coolly, 'I was only wondering whether I could help.'

'Well, you can't,' said Harry shortly.

'You're being rather rude, you know,' said Luna serenely.

Harry swore and turned away. The very last thing he wanted now was a conversation with Luna Lovegood.

'Wait,' said Hermione suddenly. 'Wait ... Harry, they can help.'

Harry and Ron looked at her.

'Listen,' she said urgently, 'Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left Headquarters.'

'I've told you, I saw--'

'Harry, I'm begging you, please!' said Hermione desperately. 'Please let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London. If we find out he's not there, then I swear I won't try to stop you. I'll come, I'll d--do whatever it takes to try and save him.'

'Sirius is being tortured NOW!' shouted Harry. 'We haven't got time to waste.'

'But if this is a trick of Voldemort's, Harry, we've got to check, we've got to.'

'How?' Harry demanded. 'How're we going to check?'

'We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him, said Hermione, who looked positively terrified at the thought. 'We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Ginny and Luna.'

Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Ginny said immediately, 'Yeah, we'll do it,' and Luna said, 'When you say "Sirius", are you talking about Stubby Boardman?'

Nobody answered her.

'OK,' Harry said aggressively to Hermione, 'OK, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now.'

'The Department of Mysteries?' said Luna, looking mildly surprised. 'But how are you going to get there?'

Again, Harry ignored her.

'Right,' said Hermione, twisting her hands together and pacing up and down between the desks. 'Right ... well ... one of us has to go and find Umbridge and--and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from her office. They could tell her--I don't know--that Peeves is up to something awful as usual ...'

'I'll do it,' said Ron at once. 'I'll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way.'

It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Hermione made no objection to the smashing up of the Transfiguration department.

'OK,' she said, her brow furrowed as she continued to pace. 'Now, we need to keep students right away from her office while we force entry, or some Slytherin's bound to go and tip her off.'

'Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor,' said Ginny promptly, 'and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garrotting Gas.' Hermione looked surprised at the readiness with which Ginny had come up with this lie; Ginny shrugged and said, 'Fred and George were planning to do it before they left.'

'OK,' said Hermione. 'Well then, Harry, you and I will be under the Invisibility Cloak and we'll sneak into the office and you can talk to Sirius--'

'He's not there, Hermione!'

'I mean, you can --can check whether Sirius is at home or not while I keep watch, I don't think you should be in there alone, Lee's already proved the windows a weak spot, sending those Nifflers through it.'

Even through his anger and impatience, Harry recognised Hermione's offer to accompany him into Umbridge's office as a sign of solidarity and loyalty.

'I ... OK, thanks,' he muttered.

'Right, well, even if we do all of that, I don't think we're going to be able to bank on more than five minutes,' said Hermione, looking relieved that Harry seemed to have accepted the plan, 'not with Filch and the wretched Inquisitorial Squad floating around.'

'Five minutes'll be enough,' said Harry 'C'mon, let's go--'

'Now?' said Hermione, looking shocked.

'Of course now!' said Harry angrily. 'What did you think, we're going to wait until after dinner or something? Hermione, Sirius is being tortured right now!'

'I--oh, all right,' she said desperately. 'You go and get the Invisibility Cloak and we'll meet you at the end of Umbridge's corridor, OK?'

Harry didn't answer, but flung himself out of the room and began to fight his way through the milling crowds outside. Two floors up he met Seamus and Dean, who hailed him jovially and told him they were planning a dusk-till-dawn end-of-exams celebration in the common room. Harry barely heard them. He scrambled through the portrait hole while they were still arguing about how many black-market Butterbeers they would need and was climbing back out of it, the Invisibility Cloak and Sirius's knife secure in his bag, before they noticed he had left them.

'Harry, d'you want to chip in a couple of Galleons? Harold Dingle reckons he could sell us some Firewhisky--'

But Harry was already tearing away back along the corridor, and a couple of minutes later was jumping the last few stairs to join Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna, who were huddled together at the end of Umbridge's corridor.

'Got it,' he panted. 'Ready to go, then?'

'All right,' whispered Hermione as a gang of loud sixth-years passed them. 'So Ron--you go and head Umbridge off ... Ginny, Luna, if you can start moving people out of the corridor ... Harry and I will get the Cloak on and wait until the coast is clear ...'

Ron strode away, his bright-red hair visible right to the end of the passage; meanwhile Ginny's equally vivid head bobbed between the jostling students surrounding them in the other direction, trailed by Luna's blonde one.

'Get over here,' muttered Hermione, tugging at Harry's wrist and pulling him back into a recess where the ugly stone head of a medieval wizard stood muttering to itself on a column. 'Are--are you sure you're OK, Harry? You're still very pale.'

'I'm fine,' he said shortly, tugging the Invisibility Cloak from out of his bag. In truth, his scar was aching, but not so badly that he thought Voldemort had yet dealt Sirius a fatal blow; it had hurt much worse than this when Voldemort had been punishing Avery ...

'Here,' he said; he threw the Invisibility Cloak over both of them and they stood listening carefully over the Latin mumblings of the bust in front of them.

'You can't come down here!' Ginny was calling to the crowd. 'No, sorry, you're going to have to go round by the swivelling staircase, someone's let off Garrotting Gas just along here--'

They could hear people complaining; one surly voice said, 'I can't see no gas.'

'That's because it's colourless,' said Ginny in a convincingly exasperated voice, 'but if you want to walk through it, carry on, then we'll have your body as proof for the next idiot who doesn't believe us.'

Slowly, the crowd thinned. The news about the Garrotting Gas seemed to have spread; people were not coming this way any more. When at last the surrounding area was quite clear, Hermione said quietly, 'I think that's as good as we're going to get, Harry--come on, let's do it.'

They moved forwards, covered by the Cloak. Luna was standing with her back to them at the far end of the corridor. As they passed Ginny, Hermione whispered, 'Good one ... don't forget the signal.'

'What's the signal?' muttered Harry, as they approached Umbridge's door.

'A loud chorus of "Weasley is our King" if they see Umbridge coming,' replied Hermione, as Harry inserted the blade of Sirius's knife in the crack between door and wall. The lock clicked open and they entered the office.

The garish kittens were basking in the late-afternoon sunshine that was warming their plates, but otherwise the office was as still and unoccupied as last time. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

'I thought she might have added extra security after the second Niffler.'

They pulled off the Cloak; Hermione hurried over to the window and stood out of sight, peering down into the grounds with her wand out. Harry dashed over to the fireplace, seized the pot of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the grate, causing emerald flames to burst into life there. He knelt down quickly, thrust his head into the dancing fire and cried, 'Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!'

His head began to spin as though he had just got off a fairground ride though his knees remained firmly planted on the cold office floor. He kept his eyes screwed up against the whirling ash and when the spinning stopped he opened them to find himself looking out at the long, cold kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

There was nobody there. He had expected this, yet was not prepared for the molten wave of dread and panic that seemed to burst through his stomach at the sight of the deserted room.

'Sirius?' he shouted. 'Sirius, are you there?'

His voice echoed around the room, but there was no answer except a tiny scuffing sound to the right of the fire.

'Who's there?' he called, wondering whether it was just a mouse.

Kreacher the house-elf crept into view. He looked highly delighted about something, though he seemed to have recently sustained a nasty injury to both hands, which were heavily bandaged.

'It's the Potter boy's head in the fire,' Kreacher informed the empty kitchen, stealing furtive, oddly triumphant glances at Harry. 'What has he come for, Kreacher wonders?'

'Where's Sirius, Kreacher?' Harry demanded.

The house-elf gave a wheezy chuckle.

'Master has gone out, Harry Potter.'

'Where's he gone? Where's he gone, Kreacher?'

Kreacher merely cackled.

'I'm warning you!' said Harry, fully aware that his scope for inflicting punishment upon Kreacher was almost non-existent in this position. 'What about Lupin? Mad-Eye? Any of them, are any of them there?'

'Nobody here but Kreacher!' said the elf gleefully, and turning away from Harry he began to walk slowly towards the door at the end of the kitchen. 'Kreacher thinks he will have a little chat with his mistress now, yes, he hasn't had a chance in a long time, Kreacher's master has been keeping him away from her--'

'Where has Sirius gone?' Harry yelled after the elf. 'Kreacher, has he gone to the Department of Mysteries?'

Kreacher stopped in his tracks. Harry could just make out the back of his bald head through the forest of chair legs before him.

'Master does not tell poor Kreacher where he is going,' said the elf quietly.

'But you know!' shouted Harry. 'Don't you? You know where he is!'

There was a moment's silence, then the elf let out his loudest cackle yet.

'Master will not come back from the Department of Mysteries!' he said gleefully. 'Kreacher and his mistress are alone again!'

And he scurried forwards and disappeared through the door to the hall.

'You--'!'

But before he could utter a single curse or insult, Harry felt a great pain at the top of his head; he inhaled a lot of ash and, choking, found himself being dragged backwards through the flames, until with a horrible abruptness he was staring up into the wide, pallid face of Professor Umbridge who had dragged him backwards out of the fire by the hair and was now bending his neck back as far as it would go, as though she were going to slit his throat.

'You think,' she whispered, bending Harry's neck back even further, so that he was looking up at the ceiling, 'that after two Nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy. Take his wand,' she barked at someone he could not see, and he felt a hand grope inside the chest pocket of his robes and remove the wand. 'Hers, too.'

Harry heard a scuffle over by the door and knew that Hermione had also just had her wand wrested from her.

'I want to know why you are in my office,' said Umbridge, shaking the fist clutching his hair so that he staggered.

'I was--trying to get my Firebolt!' Harry croaked.

'Liar.' She shook his head again. 'Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?'

'No one--' said Harry, trying to pull away from her. He felt several hairs part company with his scalp.

'Liar!' shouted Umbridge. She threw him from her and he slammed into the desk. Now he could see Hermione pinioned against the wall by Millicent Bulstrode. Malfoy was leaning on the windowsill, smirking as he threw Harry's wand into the air one-handed and caught it again.

There was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Luna and--to Harry's bewilderment--Neville, who was trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked in imminent danger of suffocation. All four of them had been gagged.

'Got 'em all,' said Warrington, shoving Ron roughly forwards into the room. 'That one,' he poked a thick finger at Neville, 'tried to stop me taking her,' he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, 'so I brought him along too.'

'Good, good,' said Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. 'Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?'

Malfoy laughed loudly and sycophantically. Umbridge gave her wide, complacent smile and settled herself into a chintz-covered armchair, blinking up at her captives like a toad in a flowerbed.

'So, Potter,' she said. 'You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon,' she nodded at Ron--Malfoy laughed even louder--'to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes-- Mr. Filch having just informed me so.'

'Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone.'

Malfoy and a few of the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed some more at that. Harry found he was so full of rage and hatred he was shaking.

'It's none of your business who I talk to,' he snarled.

Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten.

'Very well,' she said in her most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. 'Very well, Mr. Potter ... I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco-- fetch Professor Snape.'

Malfoy slowed Harry's wand inside his robes and left the room smirking, but Harry hardly noticed. He had just realised something; he could not believe he had been so stupid as to forget it. He had thought that all the members of the Order, all those who could help him save Sirius, were gone--but he had been wrong. There was still a member of the Order of the Phoenix at Hogwarts--Snape.

There was silence in the office except for the fidgetings and scufflings resulting from the Slytherins' efforts to keep Ron and the others under control. Ron's lip was bleeding on to Umbridge's carpet as he struggled against Warrington's half-nelson; Ginny was still trying to stamp on the feel of the sixth-year girl who had both her upper arms in a tight grip; Neville was turning steadily more purple in the face while lugging at Crabbe's arms; and Hermione was attempting, in vain, to throw Millicent Bulstrode off her. Luna, however, stood limply by the side of her captor, gazing vaguely out of the window as though rather bored by the proceedings.

Harry looked back at Umbridge, who was watching him closely. He kept his face deliberately smooth and blank as footsteps were heard in the corridor outside and Draco Malfoy entered the room, closely followed by Snape.

'You wanted to see me, Headmistress?' said Snape, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

'Ah, Professor Snape,' said Umbridge, smiling widely and standing up again. 'Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please.'

'You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter,' he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. 'Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient.'

Umbridge flushed.

'You can make some more, can't you?' she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

'Certainly,' said Snape, his lip curling. 'It takes a full moon-cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month.'

'A month?' squawked Umbndge, swelling toadishly. 'A month!But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!'

'Really?' said Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked round at Harry. 'Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules.'

His cold, dark eyes were boring into Harry's, who met his gaze unflinchingly, concentrating hard on what he had seen in his dream, willing Snape to read it in his mind, to understand ...

'I wish to interrogate him!' repeated Umbridge angrily, and Snape looked away from Harry back into her furiously quivering lace. 'I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!'

'I have already told you,' said Snape smoothly, 'that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter--and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did--I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much lime for truth-telling.'

Snape looked back at Harry, who stared at him, frantic to communicate without words.

Voldemort's got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, he thought desperately. Voldemort's got Sirius--'

'You are on probation!' shrieked Professor Umbridge, and Snape looked back at her, his eyebrows slightly raised. 'You arc being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!'

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave. Harry knew his last chance of letting the Order know what was going on was walking out of the door.

'He's got Padfoot!' he shouted. 'He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!'

Snape had stopped with his hand on Umbridge's door handle.

'Padfoot?' cried Professor Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Snape. 'What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?'

Snape looked round at Harry. His face was inscrutable. Harry could not tell whether he had understood or not, but he did not dare speak more plainly in front of Umbridge.

'I have no idea,' said Snape coldly. 'Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little. If Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job.'

He closed the door behind him with a snap, leaving Harry in a state of worse turmoil than before: Snape had been his very last hope. He looked at Umbridge, who seemed to be feeling the same way; her chest was heaving with rage and frustration.

'Very well,' she said, and she pulled out her wand. 'Very well ... I am left with no alternative ... this is more than a matter of school discipline ... this is an issue of Ministry security ... yes ... yes ...'

She seemed to be talking herself into something. She was shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at Harry, beating her wand against her empty palm and breathing heavily As he watched her, Harry felt horribly powerless without his own wand.

'You are forcing me, Potter ... I do not want to,' said Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, 'but sometimes circumstances justify the use ... I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice ...'

Malfoy was watching her with a hungry expression on his face.

'The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue,' said Umbridge quietly.

'No!' shrieked Hermione. 'Professor Umbridge--it's illegal.'

But Umbridge took no notice. There was a nasty eager, excited look on her face that Harry had never seen before. She raised her wand.

'The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!' cried Hermione.

'What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him,' said Umbridge, who was now panting slightly as she pointed her wand at different parts of Harry's body in turn, apparently trying to decide where it would hurt most. 'He never knew I ordered dementors to go after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same.'

'It was you?' gasped Harry. 'You sent the dementors after me?'

'Somebody had to act,' breathed Umbridge, as her wand came to rest pointing directly at Harry's forehead. They were all bleating about silencing you somehow--discrediting you --but I was the one who actually did something about it ... only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter? Not today though, not now--' And taking a deep breath, she cried, 'Cruc--'

'NO!' shouted Hermione in a cracked voice from behind Millicent Bulstrode. 'No--Harry-- we'll have to tell her!'

'No way!' yelled Harry, staring at the little of Hermione he could see.

'We'll have to, Harry, she'll force it out of you anyway, what's ... what's the point?'

And Hermione began to cry weakly into the back of Millicent Bulstrode's robes. Millicent stopped trying to squash her against the wall immediately and dodged out of her way looking disgusted.

'Well, well, well!' said Umbridge, looking triumphant. 'Little Miss Question-all is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!'

'Er--my--nee-- no!' shouted Ron through his gag.

Ginny was staring at Hermione as though she had never seen her before. Neville, still choking for breath, was gazing at her, too. But Harry had just noticed something. Though Hermione was sobbing desperately into her hands, there was no trace of a tear.

'I'm--I'm sorry everyone,' said Hermione. 'But--I can't stand it--'

'That's right, that's right, girl!' said Umbridge, seizing Hermione by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. 'Now then ... with whom was Potter communicating just now?'

'Well,' gulped Hermione into her hands, 'well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore.'

Ron froze, his eyes wide; Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor's toes; and even Luna looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, the attention of Umbridge and her minions was focused too exclusively upon Hermione to notice these suspicious signs.

'Dumbledore?' said Umbridge eagerly. 'You know where Dumbledore is, then?'

'Well ... no!' sobbed Hermione. 'We've tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog's Head--'

'Idiot girl-- Dumbledore won't be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry's looking for him!' shouted Umbridge, disappointment etched in every sagging line of her face.

'But--but we needed to tell him something important!' wailed Hermione, holding her hands more tightly over her face, not, Harry knew, out of anguish, but to disguise the continued absence of tears.

'Yes?' said Umbridge with a sudden resurgence of excitement. 'What was it you wanted to tell him?'

'We ... we wanted to tell him it's r--ready!' choked Hermione.

'What's ready?' demanded Umbridge, and now she grabbed Hermione's shoulders again and shook her slightly. 'What's ready, girl?'

'The ... the weapon,' said Hermione.

'Weapon? Weapon?' said Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. 'You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?'

'Y--y--yes,' gasped Hermione, 'but he had to leave before it was finished and n--n--now we've finished it for him, and we c--c--can't find him t--t--to tell him!'

'What kind of weapon is it?' said Umbridge harshly, her stubby hands still tight on Hermione's shoulders.

'We don't r--r-- really understand it,' said Hermione, sniffing loudly. 'We j--j--just did what P--P--Professor Dumbledore told us t--t--to do.'

Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant.

'Lead me to the weapon,' she said.

'I'm not showing ... them,' said Hermione shrilly, looking around at the Slytherins through her fingers.

'It is not for you to set conditions,' said Professor Umbridge harshly.

'Fine,' said Hermione, now sobbing into her hands again. 'Fine ... let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th--that would serve you right--oh, I'd love it if the wh-- whole school knew where it was, and how to u--use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll, be able to s--sort you out!'

These words had a powerful impact on Umbridge: she glanced swiftly and suspiciously around at her Inquisitorial Squad, her bulging eyes resting for a moment on Malfoy, who was too slow to disguise the look of eagerness and greed that had appeared on his face.

Umbridge contemplated Hermione for another long moment, then spoke in what she clearly thought was a motherly voice.

'All right, dear, let's make it just you and me ... and we'll take Potter, too, shall we? Get up, now.'

'Professor,' said Malfoy eagerly, 'Professor Umbridge, I think some of the Squad should come with you to look after--'

'I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?' asked Umbridge sharply. 'In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these--' she gestured around at Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna '--escape.'

'All right,' said Malfoy, looking sulky and disappointed.

'And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way,' said Umbridge, pointing at Harry and Hermione with her wand. 'Lead on.'

Chapter 31 Owls

Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match, so Harry and Hermione found it very difficult to find an opening in which to mention Grawp. Not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring Ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first--he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King'--but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good.

They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.

'Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought--you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop-- my right, obviously, his left--but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left--his right, I mean--and--well--you saw what happened,' he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them--a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs--had heard him. 'And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later--What?' Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. 'Why are you grinning?'

'I'm not,' said Harry quickly, and looked down at his Transfiguration notes, attempting to straighten his lace. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree. 'I'm just glad we won, that's all.'

'Yeah,' said Ron slowly, savouring the words, 'we won.Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?'

'I suppose she cried, did she?' said Harry bitterly.

'Well, yeah-- more out of temper than anything, though ...' Ron frowned slightly. 'But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?'

'Er--' said Harry.

'Well, actually ... no, Ron,' said Hermione with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at him apologetically. 'As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal.'

Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. 'You didn't watch?' he said faintly, looking from one to the other. 'You didn't see me make any of those saves?'

'Well--no,' said Hermione, stretching out a placatory hand towards him. 'But Ron, we didn't want to leave--we had to!'

'Yeah?' said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. 'How come?'

'It was Hagrid,' said Harry. 'He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway ...'

The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity.

'He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?'

'Yep,' said Harry grimly.

'No,' said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. 'No, he can't have.'

'Well, he has,' said Hermione firmly. 'Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me,' she snorted, 'as Hermy.'

Ron gave a nervous laugh.

'And Hagrid wants us to ... ?'

'Teach him English, yeah,' said Harry.

'He's lost his mind,' said Ron in an almost awed voice.

'Yes,' said Hermione irritably, turning a page of Intermediate Transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. 'Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise.'

'Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all,' said Ron firmly. 'I mean, come on ... we've got exams and we're about that far--' he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger almost touching '--from being chucked out as it is. And anyway ... remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?'

'I know, it's just that--we promised,' said Hermione in a small voice.

Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied.

'Well,' he sighed, 'Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all.'

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last.

Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from Harry's mind, though he did wonder occasionally during Potions lessons whether Lupin had ever told Snape that he must continue giving Harry Ooclumency tuition. If he had, then Snape had ignored Lupin as thoroughly as he was now ignoring Harry. This suited Harry very well; he was quite busy and tense enough without extra classes with Snape, and to his relief Hermione was much too preoccupied these days to badger him about Occlumency; she was spending a lot of time muttering to herself, and had not laid out any elf clothes for days.

She was not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs drew steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices.

'How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?' he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.

'I dunno,' said Ron. 'A few.'

'More or less than eight?'

'Less, I s'pose,' said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.

'I'm doing eight,' said Ernie, puffing out his chest. 'Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday--only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday--'

Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic.

'Of course, it's not what you know,' he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, 'it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years--old Griselda Marchbanks--we've had her round for dinner and everthing ...'

'Do you think that's true?' Hermione whispered in alarm to Harry and Ron.

'Nothing we can do about it if it is,' said Ron gloomily.

'I don't think it's true,' said Neville quietly from behind them. 'Because Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's, and she's never mentioned the Malfoy's.'

'What's she like, Neville?' asked Hermione at once. 'Is she strict?'

'Bit like Gran, really,' said Neville in a subdued voice.

'Knowing her won't hurt your chances, though, will it?' Ron told him encouragingly.

'Oh, I don't think it will make any difference,' said Neville, still more miserably. 'Gran's always telling Professor Marchbanks I'm not as good as my dad ... well ... you saw what she's like at St. Mungo's ...'

Neville looked fixedly at the floor. Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, but didn't know what to say. It was the first time Neville had acknowledged that they had met at the wizarding hospital.

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Harry and Ron were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine 'Outstanding' OWLs he had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. Ron assured Harry he would reimburse him for his half the moment he left Hogwarts and got a job, but before they could close the deal, Hermione had confiscated the bottle from Carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet.

'Hermione, we wanted to buy that!' shouted Ron.

'Don't be stupid,' she snarled. 'You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it.'

'Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?' said Ron eagerly.

'Not any more,' said Hermione. 'I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know.'

'Dragon claw does work!' said Ron. 'It's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours--Hermione, let me have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt--'

'This stuff can,' said Hermione grimly. 'I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried doxy droppings.'

This information took the edge off Harry and Ron's desire for brain stimulants.

They received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Transfiguration lesson.

'As you can see,' Professor McGonagall told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, 'your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night.

'Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new--Headmistress--' Professor McGonagall pronounced the word with the same look on her face that Aunt Petunia had whenever she was contemplating a particularly stubborn bit of dirt '--has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely--because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school--'

Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh; Harry saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare.

'--however, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about.'

'Please, Professor,' said Hermione, her hand in the air, 'when will we find out our results?'

'An owl will be sent to you some time in July,' said Professcr McGonagall.

'Excellent,' said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper, 'so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays.'

Harry imagined sitting in his bedroom in Privet Drive in six weeks' time, waiting for his OWL results. Well, he thought dully, at least he would be sure of one bit of post that summer.

Their first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Harry agreed to test Hermione after lunch on Sunday, but regretted it almost at once; she was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had got the answer completely right, finally hitting him hard on the nose with the sharp edge of Achievements in Charming.

'Why don't you just do it yourself?' he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering.

Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus Finnigan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table.

Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate.

'Oh, my goodness,' she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. 'Is that them? Is that the examiners?'

Harry and Ron whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge, Harry was pleased to see, looked rather nervous.

'Shall we go and have a closer look?' said Ron.

Harry and Hermione nodded and they hastened towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall, slowing down as they stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners. Harry thought Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her deferentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Professor Umbridge very loudly considering they were only a foot apart.

'Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!' she said impatiently. 'Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!' she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. 'No idea where he is, I suppose?'

'None at all,' said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. 'But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough.'

'I doubt it,' shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, 'not it Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know ... examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs ... did things with a wand I'd never seen before.'

'Yes ... well ...' said Professor Umbridge as Harry, Ron and Hermione dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, 'let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey.'

It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Harry went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. He remembered his careers consultation and McGonagall's furious declaration that she would help him become an Auror if it was the last thing she did. He wished he had expressed a more achievable ambition now that exam time was here. He knew he was not the only one lying awake, but none of the others in the dormitory spoke and finally, one by one, they fell asleep.

None of the fifth-years talked very much at breakfast next day, either: Parvati was practising incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched; Hermione was rereading Achievements in Charming so fast that her eyes appeared blurred; and Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade.

Once breakfast was over, the fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, they were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged exactly as Harry had seen it in the Pensieve when his father, Sirius and Snape had been taking their OWLs; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet, she said, 'You may begin,' and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment.

Harry turned over his paper, his heart thumping hard--three rows to his right and four seats ahead Hermione was already scribbling--and lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly.

Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll ... smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write.

'Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?' asked Hermione anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. 'I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much--and on question twenty-three--'

'Hermione,' said Ron sternly, 'we've been through this before ... we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once.'

The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake.

Hermione's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. Students who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so Harry and Ron had no idea how Hermione had done.

'She'll be fine, remember she got a hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests?' said Ron.

Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, 'Parkinson, Pansy--Patil, Padma--Patil, Parvati--Potter, Harry.'

'Good luck,' said Ron quietly. Harry walked into the Great Hall, clutching his wand so tightly his hand shook.

'Professor Tofty is free, Potter,' squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Draco Malfoy.

'Potter, is it?' said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. 'The famous Potter?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine-glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at him encouragingly.

'That's it,' he said in his quavery old voice, 'no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.'

On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy's had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake. He was glad Hermione had not been in the Hall at the time and neglected to mention it to her afterwards. He could tell Ron, though; Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened.

There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day; Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with complex spell models and theories.

He forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during his written paper next morning but thought his practical could have been a lot worse. At least he managed to Vanish the whole of his iguana, whereas poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minute; while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall.

They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, Harry felt he had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Here, for the first time, Harry felt sure he had passed. He had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall.

'Oh, bravo!' cried Professor Tolty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell. 'Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter ... unless ...'

He leaned forwards a little.

'I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point ... ?'

Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge and imagined her being sacked.

'Expecto patronum!'

His silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.

'Excellent!' he said. 'Very well, Potter, you may go!'

As Harry passed Umbridge beside the door, their eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around her wide, slack mouth, but he did not care. Unless he was very much mistaken (and he was not planning on telling anybody, in case he was), he had just achieved an 'Outstanding' OWL.

On Friday, Harry and Ron had a day off while Hermione sat her Ancient Runes exam, and as they had the whole weekend in front of them they permitted themselves a break from revision. They stretched and yawned beside the open window, through which warm summer air was wafting as they played wizard chess. Harry could see Hagrid in the distance, teaching a class on the edge of the Forest. He was trying to guess what creatures they were examining--he thought it must be unicorns, because the boys seemed to be standing back a little--when the portrait hole opened and Hermione clambered in, looking thoroughly bad-tempered.

'How were the Runes?' said Ron, yawning and stretching.

'I mis-translated ehwaz,' said Hermione furiously. 'It means partnership, not defence,I mixed it up with eihwaz.'

'Ah well,' said Ron lazily, 'that's only one mistake, isn't it, you'll still get--'

'Oh, shut up!' said Hermione angrily. 'It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another Niffler in Umbridge's office. I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off--by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg--'

'Good,' said Harry and Ron together.

'It is not good!' said Hermione hotly. 'She thinks it's Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!'

'He's teaching at the moment; she can't blame him,' said Harry, gesturing out of the window.

'Oh, you're so naive sometimes, Harry. You really think Umbridge will wait for proof?' said Hermione, who seemed determined to be in a towering temper, and she swept off towards the girls' dormitories, banging the door behind her.

'Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl,' said Ron, very quietly, prodding his queen forward to beat up one of Harry's knights.

Hermione's bad mood persisted for most of the weekend, though Harry and Ron found it quite easy to ignore as they spent most of Saturday and Sunday revising for Potions on Monday, the exam which Harry had been looking forward to least--and which he was sure would be the downfall of his ambitions to become an Auror. Sure enough, he found the written paper difficult, though he thought he might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion; he could describe its effects accurately, having taken it illegally in his second year.

The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as he had expected, it to be. With Snape absent from the proceedings, he found that he was much more relaxed than he usually was while making potions. Neville, who was sitting very near Harry, also looked happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class. When Professor Marchbanks said, 'Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over,' Harry corked his sample flask feeling that he might not have achieved a good grade but he had, with luck, avoided a fail.

'Only four exams left,' said Parvati Patil wearily as they headed back to Gryffindor common room.

'Only!' said Hermione snappishly. 'I've got Arithmancy and it's probably the toughest subject there is!'

Nobody was foolish enough to snap back, so she was unable to vent her spleen on any of them and was reduced to telling off some first-years for giggling too loudly in the common room.

Harry was determined to perform well in Tuesday's Care of Magical Creatures exam so as not to let Hagrid down. The practical examination took place in the afternoon on the lawn on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where students were required to correctly identify the Knarl hidden among a dozen hedgehogs (the trick was to offer them all milk in turn: Knarls, highly suspicious creatures whose quills had many magical properties, generally went berserk at what they saw as an attempt to poison them); then demonstrate correct handling of a Bowtruckle; feed and clean out a Fire Crab without sustaining serious burns; and choose, from a wide selection of food, the diet they would give a sick unicorn.

Harry could see Hagrid watching anxiously out of his cabin window. When Harry's examiner, a plump little witch this time, smiled at him and told him he could leave, Harry gave Hagrid a fleeting thumbs-up before heading back to the castle.

The Astronomy theory paper on Wednesday morning went well enough. Harry was not convinced he had got the names of all Jupiter's moons right, but was at least confident that none of them was inhabited by mice. They had to wait until evening for their practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted instead to Divination.

Even by Harry's low standards in Divination, the exam went very badly. He might as well have tried to see moving pictures on the desktop as in the stubbornly blank crystal ball; he lost his head completely during tea-leaf reading, saying it looked to him as though Professor Marchbanks would shortly be meeting a round, dark, soggy stranger, and rounded off the whole fiasco by mixing up the life and head lines on her palm and informing her that she ought to have died the previous Tuesday.

'Well, we were always going to fail that one,' said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he had told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in his crystal ball, only to look up and realise he had been describing his examiner's reflection.

'We shouldn't have taken the stupid subject in the first place,' said Harry.

'Still, at least we can give it up now.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'No more pretending we care what happens when Jupiter and Uranus get too friendly.'

'And from now on, I don't care if my tea-leaves spell die, Ron, die--I'm just chucking them in the bin where they belong.'

Harry laughed just as Hermione came running up behind them. He stopped laughing at once, in case it annoyed her.

'Well, I think I've done all right in Arithmancy,' she said, and Harry and Ron both sighed with relief. 'Just time for a quick look over our star-charts before dinner, then ...'

When they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower at eleven o'clock, they found a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of them set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbanks gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star-chart they had been given.

Professors Marchbanks and Tofty strolled among them, watching as they entered the precise positions of the stars and planets they were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then ar hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the: ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished.

As Harry completed the constellation Orion on his chart, however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where he was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. Harry glanced down as he made a slight adjustment to the position of his telescope and saw five or six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut and the lawn became a sea of darkness once more.

Harry put his eye back to his telescope and refocused it, now examining Venus. He looked down at his chart to enter the planet there, but something distracted him; pausing with his quill suspended over the parchment, he squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they had not been moving, and the moonlight had not been gilding the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they walked. Even at this distance, Harry had a funny feeling he recognised the walk of the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group.

He could not think why Umbridge would be taking a stroll outside after midnight, much less accompanied by five others. Then somebody coughed behind him, and he remembered that he was halfway through an exam. He had quite forgotten Venus's position. Jamming his eye to his telescope, he found it again and was once more about to enter it on his chart when, alert for any odd sound, he heard a distant knock which echoed through the deserted grounds, followed immediately by the muffled barking of a large dog.

He looked up, his heart hammering. There were lights on in Hagrid's windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and he distinctly saw six sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence.

Harry felt very uneasy. He glanced around to see whether Ron or Hermione had noticed what he had, but Professor Marchbanks came walking behind him at that moment and, not wanting to look as though he was sneaking looks at anyone else's work, Harry hastily bent over his star-chart and pretended to be adding notes to it while really peering over the top of the parapet towards Hagrid's cabin. Figures were now moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light.

He could feel Professor Marchbanks's eyes on the back of his neck and pressed his eye again to his telescope, staring up at the moon though he had marked its position an hour ago, but as Professor Marchbanks moved on he heard a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around Harry ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered instead in the direction of Hagrid's cabin.

Professor Tofty gave another dry little cough.

'Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls,' he said softly.

Most people returned to their telescopes. Harry looked to his left. Hermione was gazing transfixed at Hagrid's cabin.

'Ahem--twenty minutes to go,' said Professor Tofty.

Hermione jumped and returned at once to her star-chart; Harry looked down at his own and noticed that he had mis-labelled Venus as Mars. He bent to correct it.

There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried 'Ouch!' when they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes as they hastened to see what was going on below.

Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

'No!' cried Hermione.

'My dear!' said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. 'This is an examination!'

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and still, as far as Harry could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, 'Be reasonable, Hagrid!'

Hagrid roared, 'Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!'

Harry could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth; Harry looked round at Ron and saw that he, too, was looking scared. None of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before.

'Look!' squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light was spilling out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.

'Now, really!' said Professor Tofty anxiously. 'Only sixteen minutes left, you know!'

But nobody paid him the slightest attention: they were watching the person now sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid's cabin.

'How dare you!' the figure shouted as she ran. 'How dare you!'

'It's McGonagall!' whispered Hermione.

'Leave him alone! Alone,I say!' said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. 'On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such--'

Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

'Galloping gargoyles!' shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. 'Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!'

'COWARDS!' bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. 'RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT-- AN' THAT--'

'Oh my--' gasped Hermione.

Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold. Harry saw Hagrid double over, and thought he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back--then Harry realised that bangs limp body was draped around his shoulders.

'Get him, get him!' screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

There was a long minute's quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, 'Um ... five minutes to go, everybody.'

Though he had only filled in two-thirds of his chart, Harry was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last he, Ron and Hermione forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of the students were going to bed; they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed.

'That evil woman!' gasped Hermione, who seemed to be having difficulty talking due to rage. 'Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!'

'She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's,' said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them.

'Hagrid did well, didn't he?' said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. 'How come all the spells bounced off him?'

'It'll be his giant blood,' said Hermione shakily. 'Its very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough ... but poor Professor McGonagall ... four Stunners straight in the chest and she's not exactly young, is she?'

'Dreadful, dreadful,' said Ernie, shaking his head pompously. 'Well, I'm off to bed. Night, all.'

People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen.

'At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban,' said Ron. 'I 'spect he's gone to join Dumbledore, hasn't he?'

'I suppose so,' said Hermione, who looked tearful. 'Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too.'

They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

'But why sack Hagrid now?' asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. 'It's not like Trelawney; he's been teaching much better than usual this year!'

'Urnbridge hates part-humans,' said Hermione bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. 'She was always going to try and get Hagrid out.'

'And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office,' piped up Katie Bell.

'Oh, blimey,' said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. 'It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window.'

'She'd have sacked him anyway,' said Dean. 'He was too close to Dumbledore.'

'That's true,' said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione's.

'I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right,' said Lavender tearfully.

'They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,' said Colin Creevey. 'She didn't look very well.'

'Madam Pomfrey will sort her out,' said Alicia Spinnet firmly. 'She's never failed yet.'

It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him; he was so angry with Umbridge he could not think of a punishment bad enough for her, though Ron's suggestion of having her fed to a box of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts had its merits. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested.

Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. Harry would very much have liked to go back to bed after breakfast, but he had been counting on the morning for a spot of last-minute revision, so instead he sat with his head in his hands by the common-room window, trying hard not to doze off as he read through some of the three-and-a-half-feet-high stack of notes that Hermione had lent him.

The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Harry felt exhausted. He just wanted this to be over, so that he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch--he was going to have a fly on Ron's broom--and savour their freedom from revision.

'Turn over your papers,' said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. 'You may begin '

Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer.

He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere.

He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join.

I know this, Harry thought, though his brain felt torpid and slack. He could visualise a heading, in Hermione's handwriting: The formation of the International Confederation of Wizards ... he had read those notes only this morning.

He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair. Once or twice he found himself staring at the tiny golden lights that glistened in it when she moved her head slightly, and had to give his own head a little shake to clear it.

... the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the wizarding community of Liechtenstein, because--

All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry had a feeling it had something to do with trolls ... he gazed blankly at the back of Parvati's head again. If he could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of her head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Pierre Bonaccord and Liechtenstein ...

Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights ... but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls ... that was it.

He opened his eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment. Slowly, he wrote two lines about the trolls, then read through what he had done so far. It did not seem very informative or detailed, yet he was sure Hermione's notes on the Confederation had gone on for pages and pages.

He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember ... the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that already ...

Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted ... he had written that, too ...

And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come ...

Think, he told himself, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hour-glass at the front ...

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last ... the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors ...

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door ... patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry ...

He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others ...

Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres ... his heart was beating very fast now ... he was going to get there this time ... when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows ...

But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal ... Harry's stomach contracted with fear ... with excitement ...

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness ...

'Take it for me ... lift it down, now ... I cannot touch it ... but you can ...'

The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm ... heard the high, cold voice say 'Crucio!'

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless.

'Lord Voldemort is waiting ...'

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance ...

'You'll have to kill me,' whispered Sirius.

'Undoubtedly I shall in the end,' said the cold voice. 'But you will fetch it for me first, Black ... you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again ... we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream ...'

But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him.

Chapter 30 Grawp

The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwart's legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, 'Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place,' or else, 'One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley.'

Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.

Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.

Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.

Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes; Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day as she had sprouted antlers.

Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridge--itis'. After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.

But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and George's departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, 'It unscrews the other way.'

To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet; he remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.

'Should we say something?' said Hermione in a worried voice, pressing her cheek against the Charms window so that she could see Mr. and Mrs. Montague marching inside. 'About what happened to him? In case it helps Madam Pomfrey cure him?'

'Course not, he'll recover,' said Ron indifferently.

'Anyway, more trouble for Umbridge, isn't it?' said Harry in a satisfied voice.

He and Ron both tapped the teacups they were supposed to be charming with their wands. Harry's spouted four very short legs that could not reach the desk and wriggled pointlessly in midair. Ron's grew four very thin spindly legs that hoisted the cup off the desk with great difficulty, trembled for a few seconds, then folded, causing the cup to crack into two.

'Reparo,' said Hermione quickly, mending Ron's cup with a wave of her wand. 'That's all very well, but what if Montague's permanently injured?'

'Who cares?' said Ron irritably, while his teacup stood up drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. 'Montague shouldn't have tried to take all those points from Gryffindor, should he? If you want to worry about anyone, Hermione, worry about me!'

'You?' she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs, and replacing it in front of her. 'Why should I be worried about you?'

'When Mum's next letter finally gets through Umbridge's screening process,' said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, 'I'm going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if she's sent another Howler.'

'But--'

'It'll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,' said Ron darkly. 'She'll say I should've stopped them leaving, I should've grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something ... yeah, it'll be all my fault.'

'Well, if she doe's say that it'll be very unfair, you couldn't have done anything! But I'm sure she won't, I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley, they must have been planning this for ages.'

'Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?' said Ron, hitting his teacup so hard with his wand that its legs collapsed again and it lay twitching before him. 'It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley. She'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold.'

'Well, yes, that occurred to me, too,' said Hermione, allowing her teacup to jog in neat little circles around Harry's, whose stubby little legs were still unable to touch the desktop, 'I've been wondering whether Mundungus has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful.'

'He hasn't,' said Harry curtly.

'How do you know?' said Ron and Hermione together.

'Because--' Harry hesitated, but the moment to confess finally seemed to have come. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Fred and George were criminals. 'Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June.'

There was a shocked silence, then Hermione's teacup jogged right over the edge of the desk and smashed on the floor.

'Oh, Harry, you didn't!' she said.

'Yes, I did,' said Harry mutinously. 'And I don't regret it, either. I didn't need the gold and they'll be great at running a joke shop.'

'But this is excellent!' said Ron, looking thrilled. 'It's all your fault, Harry--Mum can't blame me at all! Can I tell her?'

'Yeah, I suppose you'd better,' said Harry dully, ' 'specially if she thinks they're receiving stolen cauldrons or something.'

Hermione said nothing at all for the rest of the lesson, but Harry had a shrewd suspicion that her self-restraint was bound to crack before long. Sure enough, once they had left the castle for break and were standing around in the weak May sunshine, she fixed Harry with a beady eye and opened her mouth with a determined air.

Harry interrupted her before she had even started.

'It's no good nagging me, it's done,' he said firmly. 'Fred and George have got the gold-- spent a good bit of it, too, by the sounds of it--and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. So save your breath, Hermione.'

'I wasn't going to say anything about Fred and George!' she said in an injured voice.

Ron snorted disbelievingly and Hermione threw him a very dirty look.

'No, I wasn't!' she said angrily. 'As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Harry when he's going to go back to Snape and ask for more Occlumency lessons!'

Harry's heart sank. Once they had exhausted the subject of Fred and George's dramatic departure, which admittedly had taken many hours, Ron and Hermione had wanted to hear news of Sirius. As Harry had not confided in them the reason he had wanted to talk to Sirius in the first place, it had been hard to think of what to tell them; he had ended up saying, truthfully, that Sirius wanted Harry to resume Occlumency lessons. He had been regretting this ever since; Hermione would not let the subject drop and kept reverting to it when Harry least expected it.

'You can't tell me you've stopped having funny dreams,' Hermione said now, 'because Ron told me you were muttering in your sleep again last night.'

Harry threw Ron a furious look. Ron had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

'You were only muttering a bit,' he mumbled apologetically. 'Something about "just a bit further".'

'I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch,' Harry lied brutally. 'I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit further to grab the Quaffle.'

Ron's ears went red. Harry felt a kind of vindictive pleasure; he had not, of course, dreamed anything of the sort.

Last night, he had once again made the journey along the Department of Mysteries corridor. He had passed through the circular room, then the room full of clicking and dancing light, until he found himself again inside that cavernous room full of shelves on which were ranged dusty glass spheres.

He had hurried straight towards row number ninety-seven, turned left and run along it ... it had probably been then that he had spoken aloud ... just a bit further ... for he felt his conscious self struggling to wake ... and before he had reached the end of the row, he had found himself lying in bed again, gazing up at the canopy of his four-poster.

'You are trying to block your mind, aren't you?' said. Hermione, looking beadily at Harry. 'You are keeping going with your Occlumency?'

'Of course I am,' said Harry, trying to sound as though this question was insulting, but not quite meeting her eye. The truth was he was so intensely curious about what was hidden in that room full of dusty orbs, that he was quite keen for the dreams to continue.

The problem was that with just under a month to go until the exams and every free moment devoted to revision, his mind seemed so saturated with information when he went to bed he found it very difficult to get to sleep at all; and when he did, his overwrought brain presented him most nights with stupid dreams about the exams. He also suspected that part of his mind--the part that often spoke in Hermione's voice--now felt guilty on the occasions it strayed down that corridor ending in the black door, and sought to wake him before he could reach the journey's end.

'You know,' said Ron, whose ears were still flaming red, 'if Montague doesn't recover before Slytherin play Hufflepuff, we might be in with a chance of winning the Cup.'

'Yeah, I s'pose so,' said Harry, glad of a change of subject.

'I mean, we've won one, lost one--if Slytherin lose to Hufflepuff next Saturday--'

'Yeah, that's right,' said Harry, losing track of what he was agreeing to. Cho Chang had just walked across the courtyard, determinedly not looking at him.

The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goal-keeping record. He, however, seemed to have found a new optimism.

'I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?' he told Harry and Hermione grimly over breakfast on the morning of the match. 'Nothing to lose now, is there?'

'You know,' said Hermione, as she and Harry walked down to the pitch a little later in the midst of a very excitable crowd, 'I think Ron might do better without Fred and George around. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence.'

Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head.

'Oh, gosh, I forgot!' said Hermione, watching the eagle flapping its wings as Luna walked serenely past a group of cackling and pointing Slytherins. 'Cho will be playing, won't she?'

Harry, who had not forgotten this, merely grunted.

They found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, ckar day; Ron could not wish for better, and Harry found himself hoping against hope that Ron would not give the Slytherins cause for more rousing choruses of 'Weasley is our King'.

Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto.

'... Bradley ... Davies ... Chang,' he said, and Harry felt his stomach perform, less of a back flip, more a feeble lurch as Cho walked out on to the pitch, her shiny black hair rippling in the slight breeze.He was not sure what he wanted to happen any more, except that he could not stand any more rows. Even the sight of her chatting animatedly to Roger Davies as they prepared to mount their brooms caused him only a slight twinge of jealousy.

'And they're off!' said Lee. 'And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well ... he's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot--and--and--' Lee swore very loudly. 'And he's scored.'

Harry and Hermione groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. Predictably, horribly the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing:

'Weasley cannot save a thing

He cannot block a single ring ... '

'Harry,' said a hoarse voice in Harry's ear. 'Hermione ...'

Harry looked round and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats. Apparently, he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first- and second-years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else.

'Listen,' he whispered, 'can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?'

'Er ... can't it wait, Hagrid?' asked Harry. 'Till the match is over?'

'No,' said Hagrid. 'No, Harry, it's gotta be now ... while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way ... please?'

Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Harry had not seen him this close-up since his return to the school; he looked utterly woebegone.

'Course,' said Harry at once, 'course we'll come.'

He and Hermione edged back along their row of seats, causing much grumbling among the students who had to stand up for them. The people in Hagrid's row were not complaining, merely attempting to make themselves as small as possible.

'I 'ppreciate this, you two, I really do,' said Hagrid as they reached the stairs. He kept looking around nervously as they descended towards the lawn below. 'I jus' hope she doesn' notice us goin'.'

'You mean Umbridge?' said Harry. 'She won't, she's got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her, didn't you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match.'

'Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt,' said Hagrid, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the stretch of lawn between there and his cabin was deserted. 'Give us more time.'

'What is it, Hagrid?' said Hermione, looking up at him with a concerned expression on her face as they hurried across the grass towards the edge of the Forest.

'Yeh--yeh'll see in a mo',' said Hagrid, looking over his shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind them. 'Hey--did someone jus' score?'

'It'll be Ravenclaw,' said Harry heavily.

'Good ... good ...' said Hagrid distractedly. 'Tha's good ...'

They had to jog to keep up with him as he strode across the lawn, looking around with every other step. When they reached his cabin, Hermione turned automatically left towards the front door. Hagrid, however, walked straight past it into the shade of the trees on the outermost edge of the Forest, where he picked up a crossbow that was leaning against a tree. When he realised they were no longer with him, he turned.

'We're goin' in here,' he said, jerking his shaggy head behind him.

'Into the Forest?' said Hermione, perplexed.

'Yeah,' said Hagrid. 'C'mon now, quick, before we're spotted!'

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then ducked into the cover of the trees behind Hagrid, who was already striding away from them into the green gloom, his crossbow over his arm. Harry and Hermione ran to catch up with him.

'Hagrid, why are you armed?' said Harry.

'Jus' a precaution,' said Hagrid, shrugging his massive shoulders.

'You didn't bring your crossbow the day you showed us the Thestrals,' said Hermione timidly.

'Nah, well, we weren' goin' in so far then,' said Hagrid. 'An' anyway, tha' was before Firenze left the Forest, wasn' it?'

'Why does Firenze leaving make a difference?' asked Hermione curiously.

' 'Cause the other centaurs are good an' riled at me, tha's why,' said Hagrid quietly, glancing around. 'They used ter be--well, yeh couldn' call 'em friendly--but we got on all righ'. Kept 'emselves to 'emselves, bu' always turned up if I wanted a word. Not any more.'

He sighed deeply.

'Firenze said they're angry because he went to work for Dumbledore,' Harry said, tripping on a protruding root because he was busy watching Hagrid's profile.

'Yeah,' said Hagrid heavily. 'Well, angry doesn' cover it. Ruddy livid. If I hadn' stepped in, I reckon they'd've kicked Firenze ter death--'

'They attacked him?' said Hermione, sounding shocked.

'Yep,' said Hagrid gruffly, forcing his way through several low-hanging branches. 'He had half the herd on to him.'

'And you stopped it?' said Harry, amazed and impressed. 'By yourself?'

'Course I did, couldn't stand by an' watch 'em kill 'im, could I?' said Hagrid. 'Lucky I was passin', really ... an' I'd've thought Firenze mighta remembered tha' before he started sendin' me stupid warnin's!' he added hotly and unexpectedly.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, startled, but Hagrid, scowling, did not elaborate.

'Anyway,' he said, breathing a little more heavily than usud, 'since then the other centaurs've bin livid with me, an' the trouble is they've got a lot of influence in the Forest ... cleverest creatures in here.'

'Is that why we're here, Hagrid?' asked Hermione. 'The centaurs?'

'Ah, no,' said Hagrid, shaking his head dismissively, 'no, it's not them. Well, o' course, they could complicate the problem, yeah ... but yeh'll see what I mean in a bit.'

On this incomprehensible note he fell silent and forged a little ahead, taking one stride for every three of theirs, so that they had great trouble keeping up with him.

The path was becoming increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as they walked further and further into the Forest that it was as dark as dusk. They were soon a long way past the clearing where Hagrid had shown them the Thestrals, but Harry felt no sense of unease until Hagrid stepped unexpectedly off the path and began wending his way in and out of trees towards the dark heart of the Forest.

'Hagrid!' said Harry, fighting his way through thickly knotted brambles, over which Hagrid had stepped with ease, and remembering very vividly what had happened to him on the other occasion he had stepped off the Forest path. 'Where are we going?'

'Bit further,' said Hagrid over his shoulder. 'C'mon, Harry ... we need ter keep together now.'

It was a great struggle to keep up with Hagrid, what with branches and thickets of thorn through which Hagrid marched as easily as if they were cobwebs, but which snagged Harry and Hermione's robes, frequently entangling them so severely that they had to stop for minutes at a time to free themselves. Harry's arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. They were so deep in the Forest now that sometimes all Harry could see of Hagrid in the gloom was a massive dark shape ahead of him. Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused Harry to peer through the gloom for a culprit. It occurred to him that he had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature; their absence struck him as rather ominous.

'Hagrid, would it be all right if we lit our wands?' said Hermione quietly.

'Er ... all righ',' Hagrid whispered back. 'In fact--'

He stopped suddenly and turned around; Hermione walked right into him and was knocked over backwards. Harry caught her just before she hit the Forest floor.

'Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can ... fill yeh in,' said Hagrid. 'Before we ge' there, like.'

'Good!' said Hermione, as Harry set her back on her feet. They both murmured 'Lumos!' and their wand-tips ignited. Hagrid's face swam through the gloom by the light of the two wavering beams and Harry saw again that he looked nervous and sad.

'Righ',' said Hagrid. 'Well ... see ... the thing is ...'

He took a great breath.

'Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now,' he said.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then back at him.

'But you've lasted this long--' Hermione said tentatively. 'What makes you think--'

'Umbridge reckons it was me that put tha' Niffler in her office.'

'And was it?' said Harry, before he could stop himself.

'No, it ruddy well wasn'!' said Hagrid indignantly. 'On'y any-thin' ter do with magical creatures an' she thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me. Yeh know she's bin lookin' fer a chance ter get rid of me ever since I got back. I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer ... well ... the special circumstances I'm abou' ter explain to yeh, I'd leave righ' now, before she's go' the chance ter do it in front o' the whole school, like she did with Trelawney.'

Harry and Hermione both made noises of protest, but Hagrid overrode them with a wave of one of his enormous hands.

'It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledore once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. An you lot'll have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll--yeh'll get through yer exams fine ...'

His voice trembled and broke.

'Don' worry abou' me,' he said hastily, as Hermione made to pat his arm. He pulled his enormous spotted handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and mopped his eyes with it. 'Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this at all if I didn' have ter. See, if I go ... well, I can' leave withou' ... withou' tellin' someone ... because I'll--I'll need yeh two ter help me. An' Ron, if he's willin'.'

'Of course we'll help you,' said Harry at once. 'What do you want us to do?'

Hagrid gave a great sniff and patted Harry wordlessly on the shoulder with such force Harry was knocked sideways into a tree.

'I knew yeh'd say yes,' said Hagrid into his handkerchief, 'but I won' ... never ... forget ... well ... c'mon ... jus' a little bit further through here ... watch yerselves, now, there's nettles ...'

They walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes; Harry had opened his mouth to ask how much further they had to go when Hagrid threw out his right arm to signal that they should stop.

'Really easy,' he said softly. 'Very quiet, now ...'

They crept forwards and Harry saw that they were facing a large, smooth mound of earth nearly as tall as Hagrid that he thought, with a jolt of dread, was sure to be the lair of some enormous animal. Trees had been ripped up at the roots all around the mound, so that it stood on a bare patch of ground surrounded by heaps of trunks and boughs that formed a kind of fence or barricade, behind which Harry, Hermione and Hagrid now stood.

'Sleepin',' breathed Hagrid.

Sure enough, Harry could hear a distant, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like a pair of enormous lungs at work. He glanced sideways at Hermione, who was gazing at the mound with her mouth slightly open. She looked utterly terrified.

'Hagrid,' she said in a whisper barely audible over the sound of the sleeping creature, 'who is he?'

Harry found this an odd question ... 'What is it?' was the one he; had been planning on asking.

'Hagrid, you told us--' said Hermione, her wand now shaking in her hand, 'you told us none of them wanted to come!'

Harry looked from her to Hagrid and then, as realisation hit him, he looked back at the mound with a small gasp of horror.

The great mound of earth, on which he, Hermione and Hagrid could easily have stood, was moving slowly up and down in time with the deep, grunting breathing. It was not a mound at all. 'It was the curved back of what was clearly--'

'Well--no--he didn' want ter come,' said Hagrid, sounding desperate. 'But I had ter bring him, Hermione, I had ter!'

'But why?' asked Hermione, who sounded as though she wanted to cry. 'Why--what--oh, Hagrid!'

'I knew if I jus' got him back,' said Hagrid, sounding close to tears himself, 'an'--an' taught him a few manners--I'd be able ter take him outside an' show ev'ryone he's harmless!'

'Harmless!' said Hermione shrilly, and Hagrid made frantic hushing noises with his hands as the enormous creature before them grunted loudly and shifted in its sleep. 'He's been hurting you all this time, hasn't he? That's why you've had all these injuries!'

'He don' know his own strength!' said Hagrid earnestly. 'An' he's gettin' better, he's not fightin' so much any more--'

'So, this is why it took you two months to get home!' said Hermione distractedly. 'Oh, Hagrid, why did you bring him back if he didn't want to come? Wouldn't he have been happier with his own people?'

'They were all bullyin' him, Hermione, 'cause he's so small!' said Hagrid.

'Small?' said Hermione. 'Small?'

'Hermione, I couldn' leave him,' said Hagrid, tears now trickling down his bruised face into his beard. 'See--he's my brother!'

Hermione simply stared at him, her mouth open.

'Hagrid, when you say "brother",' said Harry slowly, 'do you mean--?'

'Well-- half-brother,' amended Hagrid. 'Turns out me mother took up with another giant when she left me dad, an' she went an' had Grawp here--'

'Grawp?' said Harry.

'Yeah ... well, tha's what it sounds like when he says his name,' said Hagrid anxiously. 'He don' speak a lot of English ... I've bin tryin' ter teach him ... anyway, she don' seem ter have liked him much more'n she liked me. See, with giantesses, what counts is producin' good big kids, and he's always been a bit on the runty side fer a giant--on'y sixteen foot--'

'Oh, yes, tiny!' said Hermione, with a kind of hysterical sarcasm. 'Absolutely minuscule!'

'He was bein' kicked aroun' by all o' them--I jus' couldn' leave him--'

'Did Madame Maxime want to bring him back?' asked Harry.

'She--well, she could see it was right importan' ter me,' said Hagrid, twisting his enormous hands. 'Bu'--bu' she got a bit tired o' him after a while, I must admit ... so we split up on the journey home ... she promised not ter tell anyone, though ...'

'How on earth did you get him back without anyone noticing?' said Harry.

'Well, tha's why it took so long, see,' said Hagrid. 'Could on'y travel by nigh' an' through wild country an' stuff. Course, he covers the ground pretty well when he wants ter, but he kep' wantin' ter go back.'

'Oh, Hagrid, why on earth didn't you let him!' said Hermione, flopping down on to a ripped up tree and burying her face in her hands. 'What do you think you're going to do with a violent giant who doesn't even want to be here!'

'Well, now-- "violent"--tha's a bit harsh,' said Hagrid, still twisting his hands agitatedly. 'I'll admit he mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when he's bin in a bad mood, but he's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well.'

'What are those ropes for, then?' Harry asked.

He had just noticed ropes thick as saplings stretching from around the trunks of the largest nearby trees towards the place where Grawp lay curled on the ground with his back to them.

'You have to keep him tied up?' said Hermione faintly.

'Well ... yeah ...' said Hagrid, looking anxious. 'See--it's like I say--he doesn' really know 'is own strength.'

Harry understood now why there had been such a suspicious lack of any other living creature in this part of the Forest.

'So, what is it you want Harry and Ron and me to do?' Hermione asked apprehensively.

'Look after him,' said Hagrid croakily. 'After I'm gone.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged miserable looks, Harry uncomfortably aware that he had already promised Hagrid that he would do whatever he asked.

'What--what does that involve, exactly?' Hermione enquired.

'Not food or anythin'!' said Hagrid eagerly. 'He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff ... no, it's company he needs. I xxjus' knew someone was carryin on trying ter help him a bit ... teachin' him, yeh know.'

Harry said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of them. Unlike Hagrid, who simply looked like an oversized human, Grawp looked strangely misshapen. What Harry had taken to be a vast mossy boulder to the left of the great earthen mound he now recognised as Grawp's head. It was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, close-growing hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large, fleshy ear was visible on top of the head, which seemed to sit, rather like Uncle Vernon's, directly upon the shoulders with little or no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Grawp slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough seams of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. Harry could see the soles of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting one on top of the other on the earthy Forest floor.

'You want us to teach him,' Harry said in a hollow voice. He now understood what Firenze's warning had meant. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it.Of course, the other creatures who lived in the Forest would have heard Hagrid's fruitless attempts to teach Grawp English.

'Yeah--even if yeh jus' talk ter him a bit,' said Hagrid hopefully. ' 'Cause I reckon, if he can talk ter people, he'll understand more that we all like 'im really, an' want 'im ter stay.'

Harry looked at Hermione, who peered back at him from between the fingers over her face.

'Kind of makes you wish we had Norbert back, doesn't it?' he said, and she gave a very shaky laugh.

'Yeh'll do it, then?' said Hagrid, who did not seem to have caugit what Harry had just said.

'We'll ...' said Harry, already bound by his promise. 'We'll try, Hagrid.'

'I knew I could count on yeh, Harry,' Hagrid said, beaming in a very watery way and dabbing at his face with his handkerchief again. 'An' I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much, like ... I know yeh've got exams ... if yeh could jus' nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with 'im. I'll wake 'im up, then--introduce yeh--'

'Wha--no!' said Hermione, jumping up. 'Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need--'

But Hagrid had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of them and was proceeding towards Grawp. When he was about ten feet away, he lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Harry and Hermione, then poked Grawp hard in the middle of the back with the end of the bough.

The giant gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. In front of Harry and Hermione, meanwhile, the gigantic Grawp was rising from the ground, which shuddered as he placed an enormous hand upon it to push himself on to his knees. He turned his head to see who and what had disturbed him.

'All righ', Grawpy?' said Hagrid, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Grawp again. 'Had a nice sleep, eh?'

Harry and Hermione retreated as far as they could while still keeping the giant within their sights. Grawp knelt between two trees he had not yet uprooted. They looked up into his startlingly huge face that resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy greenish-brown and just now were half-gummed together with sleep. Grawp raised dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to his eyes, rubbed vigorously, then, without warning, pushed himself to his feet with surprising speed and agility.

'Oh my!' Harry heard Hermione squeal, terrified, beside him.

The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Grawp's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. He was, as Hagrid had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Grawp reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Hagrid threw his arms over his head to protect himself.

'Anyway, Grawpy,' shouted Hagrid, looking up apprehensively in case of further falling eggs, 'I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember, when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh fer a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?'

But Grawp merely gave another low roar; it was hard to say whether he was listening to Hagrid or whether he even recognised the sounds Hagrid was making as speech. He had now seized the top of the pine tree and was pulling it towards him, evidently for the simple pleasure of seeing how far it would spring back when he let go.

'Now, Grawpy, don' do that!' shouted Hagrid. 'Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others-- '

And sure enough, Harry could see the earth around the tree's roots beginning to crack.

'I got company for yeh!' Hagrid shouted. 'Company, see! Look down, yeh big buffoon, I brought yeh some friends!'

'Oh, Hagrid, don't,' moaned Hermione, but Hagrid had already raised the bough again and gave Grawp's knee a sharp poke.

The giant let go of the top of the tree, which swayed alarmingly and deluged Hagrid with a rain of pine needles, and looked down.

'This,' said Hagrid, hastening over to where Harry and Herrmone stood, 'is Harry, Grawp! Harry Potter! He migh' be comin' ter visit yeh if I have ter go away, understand?'

The giant had only just realised that Harry and Hermione were there. They watched, in great trepidation, as he lowered his huge boulder of a head so that he could peer blearily at them.

'An' this is Hermione, see? Her--' Hagrid hesitated. Turning to Hermione, he said, 'Would yeh mind if he called yeh Hermy, Hermione? On'y it's a difficult name fer him ter remember.'

'No, not at all,' squeaked Hermione.

'This is Hermy, Grawp! An' she's gonna be comin' an' all! Is'n' tha' nice? Eh? Two friends fer yeh ter--GRAWPY, NO!'

Grawp's hand had shot out of nowhere towards Hermione; Harry seized her and pulled her backwards behind the tree, so that Grawp's fist scraped the trunk but closed on thin air.

'BAD BOY, GRAWPY!' they heard Hagrid yelling, as Hermione clung to Harry behind the tree, shaking and whimpering. 'VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON' GRAB--OUCH!'

Harry poked his head out from around the trunk and saw Hagrid lying on his back, his hand over his nose. Grawp, apparently losing interest, had straightened up and was again engaged in pulling back the pine as far as it would go.

'Righ',' said Hagrid thickly, getting up with one hand pinching his bleeding nose and the other grasping his crossbow, 'well ... there yeh are ... yeh've met him an' --an' now he'll know yeh when yeh come back. Yeah ... well ...'

He looked up at Grawp, who was now pulling back the pine with an expression of detached pleasure on his boulderish face; the roots were creaking as he ripped them away from the ground.

'Well, I reckon tha's enough fer one day,' said Hagrid. 'We'll--'er--we'll go back now, shall we?'

Harry and Hermione nodded. Hagrid shouldered his crossbow again and, still pinching his nose, led the way back into the trees.

Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant Grawp had pulled over the pine tree at last. Hermione's face was pale and set. Harry could not think of a single thing to say. What on earth was going to happen when somebody found out that Hagrid had hidden Grawp in the Forbidden Forest? And he had promised that he, Ron and Hermione would continue Hagrid's totally pointless attempts to civilise the giant. How could Hagrid, even with his immense capacity to delude himself that fanged monsters were loveably harmless, fool himself that Grawp would ever be fit to mix with humans?

'Hold it,' said Hagrid abruptly, just as Harry and Hermione were struggling through a patch of thick knotgrass behind him. He pulled an arrow out of the quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. Harry and Hermione raised their wands; now that they had stopped walking, they, too, could hear movement close by.

'Oh, blimey,' said Hagrid quietly.

'I thought we told you, Hagrid,' said a deep male voice, 'That you are no longer welcome here?'

A man's naked torso seemed for an instant to be floating towards them through the dappled green half-light; then they saw that his waist joined smoothly into a horse's chestnut body. This centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed; a quiverful of arrows and a longbow were slung over his shoulders.

'How are yeh, Magorian?' said Hagrid warily.

The trees behind the centaur rustled and four or five more centaurs emerged behind him. Harry recognised the black-bodied and bearded Bane, whom he had met nearly four years ago on the same night he had met Firenze. Bane gave no sign that he had ever seen Harry before.

'So,' he said, with a nasty inflection in his voice, before turning immediately to Magorian. 'We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human ever showed his face in the Forest again?'

'"This human" now, am I?' said Hagrid testily. 'Jus' fer stoppin' all of yeh committin' murder?'

'You ought not to have meddled, Hagrid,' said Magorian. 'Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Firenze has betrayed and dishonoured us.'

'I dunno how yeh work that out,' said Hagrid impatiently. 'He's done nothin' except help Albus Dumbledore--'

'Firenze has entered into servitude to humans,' said a grey centaur with a hard, deeply lined face.

'Servitude!' said Hagrid scathingly. 'He's doin' Dumbledore a favour is all--'

'He is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans,' said Magorian quietly. 'There can be no return from such disgrace.'

'If yeh say so,' said Hagrid, shrugging, 'but personally I think yeh're makin' a big mistake--'

'As are you, human,' said Bane, 'coming back into our Forest when we warned you--'

'Now, yeh listen ter me,' said Hagrid angrily. 'I'll have less of the "our" Forest, if it's all the same ter yeh. It's not up ter yeh who comes an' goes in here--'

'No more is it up to you, Hagrid,' said Magorian smoothly. 'I shall let you pass today because you are accompanied by your young--'

'They're not his!' interrupted Bane contemptuously. 'Students, Magorian, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Firenze's teachings.'

'Nevertheless,' said Magorian calmly, 'the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime--we do not touch the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Firenze escape us.'

'I won' be kept outta the Fores' by a bunch o' old mules like yeh!' said Hagrid loudly.

'Hagrid,' said Hermione in a high-pitched and terrified voice, as both Bane and the grey centaur pawed at the ground, 'let's go, please let's go!'

Hagrid moved forwards, but his crossbow was still raised and his eyes were still fixed threateningly upon Magorian.

'We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!' Magorian called after them, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. 'And our tolerance is waning!'

Hagrid turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Magorian.

'Yeh'll tolerate 'im as long as he's here, it's as much his Forest as yours!' he yelled, as Harry and Hermione both pushed with all their might against Hagrid's moleskin waistcoat in an effort to keep him moving forwards. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them both pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it.

'Calm down, you two,' he said, turning to walk on while they parted along behind him. 'Ruddy old mules, though, eh?'

'Hagrid,' said Hermione breathlessly, skirting the patch of nettles they had passed on their way there, 'if the centaurs don't want humans in the Forest, it doesn't really look as though Harry and I will be able--'

'Ah, you heard what they said,' said Hagrid dismissively, 'they wouldn't hurt foals--I mean, kids. Anyway, we can' let ourselves be pushed aroun' by that lot.'

'Nice try,' Harry murmured to Hermione, who looked crestfallen.

At last they rejoined the path and, after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.

'Was that another goal?' asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. 'Or d'yeh reckon the match is over?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione miserably. Harry saw that she looked much the worse for wear; her hair was full of twigs and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. He knew he must look little better.

'I reckon it's over, yeh know!' said Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. 'Look-- there's people comin' out already--if yeh two hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know yeh weren't there!'

'Good idea,' said Harry. 'Well ... see you later, then, Hagrid.'

'I don't believe him,' said Hermione in a very unsteady voice, the moment they were out of earshot of Hagrid. 'I don't believe him. I really don't believe him.'

'Calm down,' said Harry.

'Calm down!' she said feverishly. 'A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I--don't--believe-- him!'

'We haven't got to do anything yet!' Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. 'He's not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out and that might not even happen.'

'Oh, come off it, Harry!' said Hermione angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so that the people behind had to swerve to avoid her. 'Of course he's going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?'

There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears.

'You didn't mean that,' said Harry quietly.

'No ... well ... all right ... I didn't,' she said, wiping her eyes angrily. 'But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself--for us?'

'I dunno--'

'Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He didn't let the Quaffle in,

Weasley is our King ...'

'And I wish they'd stop singing that stupid song,' said Hermione miserably, 'haven't they gloated enough?'

A great tide of students was moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch.

'Oh, let's get in before we have to meet the Slytherins,' said Hermione.

'Weasley can save anything,

He never leaves a single ring,

That's why Gryffindors all sing:

Weasley is our King. '

'Hermione ...' said Harry slowly.

The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders.

'Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He didn't let the Quaffle in,

Weasley is our King ...'

'No?' said Hermione in a hushed voice.

'YES!' said Harry loudly.

'HARRY! HERMIONE!' yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. 'WE DID IT! WE WON!'

They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Harry and Hermione watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of 'Weasley is our King' died away. Then they turned to each other, their smiles fading.

'We'll save our news till tomorrow, shall we?' said Harry.

'Yes, all right,' said Hermione wearily. 'I'm not in any hurry.'

They climbed the steps together. At the front doors both instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest. Harry was not sure whether or not it was his imagination, but he rather thought he saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the tree tops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots.