Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (91 page)

‘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 stowed 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 feet 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 tugging 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 came back into the room, holding open the door for 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, observing 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 Umbridge, 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!’ shouted Umbridge angrily, and Snape looked away from Harry back into her furiously quivering face. ‘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 time 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 are 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 …’